Mountain Charm (Appalachian Heart Series)

by Sydney Logan

  “For Dylan’s bail.”

  “You are unbelievable, do you know that?”

  Celia had warned her daughter to keep her temper in check, but the entire situation was just too ridiculous. Who gets into a drunken brawl with a complete stranger?

  Dylan peered at the speedometer. “You’re going to get a ticket, Angelina.”

  “Now you’re worried about breaking the law?”

  He groaned and closed his eyes.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you have a headache? Am I too loud?”

  “I begged Celia to pick me up,” he muttered under his breath. “Begged her.”

  “Why should my ailing mother have to come bail your sorry ass out of jail? What were you doing at Max’s bar, anyway?”

  Dylan mumbled something, but she ignored him and drove faster toward the motel. Angelina was furious. She’d spent her night tossing and turning because of his stupid kiss while he was out at some backwoods bar with God knows who, doing God knows what.

  “Angelina, you’re doing seventy in a forty-five.”

  “Stop criticizing my driving!”

  But she did ease her foot off the pedal. Despite her aggravation, she didn’t have a death wish.

  “I’m in room fifteen,” Dylan said as they turned into the parking lot.

  The Maple Ridge Lodge wasn’t exactly a four-star hotel. It probably didn’t qualify for any stars at all, but at least it was nice and clean. Dylan invited Angelina inside, and she was surprised to find it wasn’t a complete dump. The bed had been made, and there wasn’t a pair of dirty underwear in sight.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes. “You look surprised.”

  “I am, a little.”

  “Not what you were expecting?”

  “Not really. Most guys are pigs.”

  Dylan chuckled and reached for a bottle of aspirin on his nightstand. He twisted the lid off a half-empty bottle of water sitting next to his bed and downed the pills.

  “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint—again.”

  Angelina sighed and sat down next to him. His eye was already swollen, and she noticed his hands had several small cuts along the knuckles.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Nah. You should see the other guy.” Suddenly, his head snapped up. “Actually, forget I said that. I don’t want you to see him ever again.”

  She was instantly suspicious.

  “You told my mom you got into a fight with someone from out of town.”

  He nodded and sipped his water.

  “Was that a lie?”

  “It wasn’t a lie. You said he lives in Asheville now.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  “Adam? You got into a fight with Adam McDonald?”

  “Don’t get pissed—”

  Anger flooded her, and she jumped to her feet. “I’m already pissed! You got into a fight with Adam? Over me? What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking about you! All I ever do is think about you! Believe me, it’s aggravating as hell, but it doesn’t seem to be something I can control.”

  Too stunned to formulate a response, Angelina dropped back onto the edge of the bed. Dylan stood up and began to pace the room.

  “I couldn’t sleep, Angelina. All I could think about was you and that kiss, so I took a drive around town. I got lost and ended up at some hillbilly tavern on Bluebird Lane. I have no idea how much I drank, but it was too much, obviously. I was trying to sober up before I drove back to the motel, and that’s when I spotted that bastard standing next to the pool table. He made some smartass comment about you, and I saw your face. When I thought about how he hurt you, I just . . . I lost it. All I could think about was kicking his ass, so that’s what I did, and nobody tried to stop me. I was a complete stranger to these people, and they let me beat the crap out of him. The only reason we got arrested at all was because a deputy arrived.”

  Angelina wasn’t too surprised that no one had rushed to Adam’s defense. He’d burned a lot of bridges in Maple Ridge. His violent tendencies hadn’t been limited to just her, and there were plenty of brothers and fathers still eager to get their hands on him.

  Dylan sat down on the bed once again. “I waited until Adam made bail before I called your mom. I didn’t want her to find us in adjoining cells. I thought seeing him might upset her, and I didn’t want that. I would have called Maddie, but I don’t have her number.”

  Angelina’s heart thawed a little. He gotten into a fight and thrown into jail because of her. It was stupid and sweet and a thousand other emotions she couldn’t name.

  “Angelina,” he said softly, turning in her direction, “I’m not rational when it comes to you. It’s driving me a little nuts, to be honest. I wasn’t exaggerating earlier when I said you’re all I think about. I’ve done nothing but think about you since the moment we met. I’ve never been this . . . consumed by a woman before, and I have no idea how to handle it. I am so drawn to you, and I know it sounds crazy because we don’t know each other at all, but I can’t help how I feel. And after last night’s kiss, I know you feel it, too. I know you do.”

  If she’d been any other woman, his speech would have sent her heart into a frantic dance. Instead, Angelina felt nothing but sadness, because she knew why he felt so consumed, and it had absolutely nothing to do with her.

  He reached for her hand. “Say something, please.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes, and she swallowed anxiously, struggling to find the words he needed to hear. Something that would explain the madness. But what could she say? When I was thirteen years old, I wished for you?

  Anything she might say would come out wrong. Instead, she took both his hands and gently traced her fingers over the cuts along his knuckles.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, so it might not work.”

  Dylan looked confused as she took a deep breath and tenderly stroked his hands. Angelina felt the tingling rush to her fingertips, and it was the heat that let her know it was working. It had been years since she’d even tried.

  It only took a moment, and when Dylan finally looked down at his hands, the tiny scratches that had marred his flesh were completely healed.

  “All better.”

  Dylan’s eyes snapped to hers and then back to his hands once again. There were no cuts, no bruises, no sign that he’d been in a fight.

  “How?” His eyes were wide with disbelief.

  “You’ve probably heard that all of the women in my mother’s family have certain gifts. I’m a . . . healer. And you were right. My touch heals, but it doesn’t cure.”

  Dylan stared as his hands, as if he was trying to find some logical response to what he’d just witnessed.

  It was true. It was all true.

  “Which explains why you couldn’t save your father,” he said.

  “And I won’t be able to save my mom.”

  “But there’s still hope for Celia, right?”

  Tears swam in her eyes, and she nodded. Hope was all she had. There was no magical cure for cancer. No spell or enchantment that could wipe it away.

  Dylan leaned closer, and she trembled as his hand cupped her face.

  “You’re a witch.”

  “A reluctant one, but yes.”

  Dylan chuckled and nuzzled her cheek.

  “Well, that makes perfect sense because I’m pretty sure you’ve performed some kind of wicked voodoo to make me fall head over heels in love with you.”

  Angelina knew he was only joking, but his teasing words still pierced her soul.

  What if I have?

  Angelina closed her eyes as he placed a soft kiss just below her ear.

  Angelina was thankful when Monday morning arrived. She needed to focus on something besides her love life, and there was nothing better than Maple Ridge traffic to help a girl forget her problems.

  The two-lane highway was filled with desperate passengers in their vehicles, eager to get out of town and onto the int
erstate. There weren’t a lot of jobs in Maple Ridge, so most early morning drivers were headed to work in Gatlinburg, Pigeon Forge, or Knoxville, and everyone was in a hurry. Monday mornings were always the worst, and by the time she finally made it to the shop, she was frazzled and desperate for her morning caffeine. Maddie always opened the store and had Angelina’s tea waiting right next to the register.

  “I’m finally here!” Angelina yelled as she walked inside the shop. “Traffic was horrible and I—”

  She stopped in her tracks. It was possible that her tea was right where it should have been, but she couldn’t tell.

  All she could see was the gigantic bouquet of yellow daisies.

  A stunned Angelina walked toward the counter. Reaching forward, she gently trailed her fingers along the petals. She was suddenly reminded of those times as a little girl when she would run around the pond, plucking daisies from the grass.

  “He loves me, he loves me not . . .”

  Angelina’s sweet memory was shattered by a high-pitched shriek coming from the back of the store.

  “Aren’t they gorgeous?” Maddie gushed excitedly as she hurried toward the counter. “I was such a good girl. I didn’t even read the card! You have no idea how hard that was for me.”

  Angelina felt a brief stab of disappointment.

  “Maddie, you should read the card. I’m sure they’re for you.”

  She snorted. “Nick would never send me flowers. Trust me, that vase is for you. I’ll even bet my paycheck they’re from a certain Nashville reporter.”

  With trembling fingers, Angelina reached for the tiny envelope and opened the card.

  Thank you for the dance.

  ~Dylan

  “What does it say?” Maddie said, tugging roughly on her arm until Angelina had no choice but to let her see it. “Wow. That must have been some dance!”

  “It was.”

  She squealed happily. “Tell me all about it! I want to hear every little detail and don’t leave anything out.”

  Maddie was Angelina’s best friend in the whole world, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to bare her soul just yet. Maddie had a tendency to get excited about the most inconsequential things, and confessing that she and Dylan had shared a kiss was sure to make Maddie’s head explode.

  “It was just one dance.”

  Maddie crossed her arms and tapped her foot against the tile. “Go on.”

  “And it was nice.”

  “Just nice?”

  Angelina nodded.

  Maddie tilted her head and studied her face. “You are the worst liar in the history of the world, and I can’t believe you’d keep something like this from me. Do you know how long I’ve waited for someone to walk into your life and make your heart flutter? Do you?”

  Angelina giggled. “Flutter?”

  Maddie’s nostrils flared, and Angelina had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

  “Angelina Clark, you are withholding information from your best friend, which can only mean one thing. That dance was more than nice, and it scares you to death.”

  The door chimed, and Angelina smiled at their first customer of the day.

  “You’re wrong,” she whispered in Maddie’s ear. “It wasn’t the dance that scared me. It was the toe-curling kiss.”

  Maddie’s hazel eyes nearly bulged out of her head, and Angelina laughed. After all, it wasn’t every day her best friend was stunned speechless.

  Chapter 8

  Word spread like wildfire about Dylan’s fight at the tavern. The whole town was buzzing about the news reporter and how he’d defended Angelina’s honor. While nobody would confirm the fight was about her, it was an easy assumption to make. They didn’t know the details, but most people in Maple Ridge were aware of her history with Adam McDonald. Those same folks had watched her dance with Dylan on the night of the festival. The fact that he practically lived at the music store and had dinner at the Clark house almost every night only added fuel to the flames.

  Business was slow, which wasn’t unusual after the festival. Angelina had spent the morning dusting instruments and placing some online orders. She had text messaged Dylan to thank him for the flowers, but had yet to hear from him. He didn’t come by at lunch, either, and she was embarrassed to admit how much that disappointed her. She was still exhausted from her sleepless weekend, and Maddie couldn’t stop texting her boyfriend long enough to actually work, so when Angelina suggested they close a little early, it was hard to tell which one of them was happier.

  When Angelina arrived at the house, she was surprised to find her mom walking out the door.

  “You’re home early,” Celia said.

  “Slow day at the shop. Where are you headed?”

  “Did you forget? I signed up for a quilting class down at the Methodist church.”

  “Oh yeah. Do you need a ride?”

  Celia smiled softly. “I can still drive, Angelina.”

  “I know you can.”

  She reached up and patted her daughter’s face. “Dinner’s in the slow cooker. I made soup and sandwiches. Something simple.”

  “Simple sounds great. Thanks.”

  Angelina waved goodbye to her mother before making her way inside. After pouring food into Cash’s bowl, she collapsed against the couch and closed her eyes. She would take a nap, and when she woke up, it would be time for dinner.

  And Dylan.

  Her eyes snapped open.

  With a groan, Angelina climbed off the couch and went to her bedroom to change. She needed a distraction—something to get her mind off him, his beautiful daisies, and the stupid spell that was making her question everything in her life.

  She found her old Bon Jovi shirt and a pair of shorts at the bottom of her drawer. After tying her sneakers and pulling her hair into a ponytail, she headed out back to her old basketball goal. Her father had built it for her when she was in elementary school. He’d even hired someone to lay a strip of asphalt and paint the lines so she could practice her free throws. Angelina wasn’t tall and nowhere near good enough to play in high school, but she had always loved to come out and shoot.

  Angelina grabbed the basketball out of the nearby shed and was amazed to find it wasn’t completely flat. With a smile on her face, she gave it a bounce, and the sound of leather slapping the blacktop echoed through the trees. It had been a long time since she’d played, so she was definitely rusty, but this was exactly what she needed—a little exercise and a lot of distraction from the craziness of her life.

  She was just running toward the goal for a layup when she heard a voice.

  “You look sexy in those shorts.”

  Angelina gasped, and the ball flew upward, hitting the bottom of the rim.

  So much for distractions.

  “You scared the crap out of me, and you made me miss my shot.”

  Dylan smiled and grabbed the rebound before passing the ball back to her.

  “You play?” he asked.

  “Play is a little strong. I shoot, and sometimes, if I’m lucky, it goes in the hoop.”

  Angelina tossed the ball toward the net, and this time, her aim was perfect.

  He nodded approvingly. “Nice shot. I played a little in high school.”

  “Were you any good?”

  “I was a good bench warmer. Does that count?”

  She grinned and tossed him the ball. “In that case, I suppose you’re allowed to play with me.”

  “That’s my dream come true, you realize.”

  Her heart fluttered. Fluttered.

  Maddie would be so proud.

  “Just shoot the ball, Casanova.”

  Dylan haphazardly threw the ball, and she laughed when it completely missed the rim.

  “Wow, you are terrible.”

  Dylan glared at her and tossed the ball in her direction. Bouncing it twice, Angelina lobbed it into the air, banking it off the backboard and through the hoop. She caught the rebound and passed it back. Dylan moved to the foul line and to
ok another shot. This time, he missed the entire goal.

  “This is embarrassing,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I just need some motivation.”

  “Like what?”

  Dylan hoisted another awkward shot into the air.

  “Each time I score, you have to tell me something about yourself that nobody knows. Something I can’t find in my research.”

  Angelina smirked. “Since you’ve yet to hit one basket, I think my secrets are pretty safe.”

  “Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “And if you make your shot, I’ll tell you something nobody knows about me.”

  So tempting.

  “If, by some miracle, you happen to make a bucket or two, will my secrets be in your article?”

  “No, Angelina. These secrets are just for me.”

  The way he said her name made her spine tingle, but she shook it off.

  She had a basketball game to win.

  “Deal.”

  Dylan insisted she take the first shot, and Angelina sunk her first basket. She arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to confess one of his darkest secrets.

  “I hate country music.”

  Angelina placed her hand over her heart and pretended to gasp for air.

  “That’s blasphemy, Mr. Thomas.”

  “I like bluegrass, though. There is a difference, you know.”

  Angelina smiled. “I know.”

  He took his shot, and this time, it barely missed the rim.

  Angelina didn’t make every basket, but she hit most, and in the process, she learned some fascinating things about Dylan Thomas. He had just turned twenty-three and had been working at the magazine for about four months. Dylan had graduated high school with a worse GPA than hers, but his SAT score was off the charts, securing his admission to Vandy. During his freshman year, he had played drums in a punk rock band. His mom—whose name was Patti—was a firm believer in creativity and free expression, but she’d grounded her then nineteen-year-old son for an entire month when he came home with a tattoo.

  Dylan finally hit an easy layup and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I don’t get many chances, so this better be a good one,” he muttered, raising an eyebrow.

  Angelina thought carefully. What would really shock him?