by Dylann Crush
Dwight sat on the metal driver’s seat with Beck standing behind him. They got closer, and Beck jumped down and ran the rest of the way.
“Charlie.” He caught her in a hug, knocking her off-balance and pulling her against his chest.
This couldn’t be happening. She put her palms against his chest and pushed. Even rumpled, without a shower or a chance to brush his teeth, he still sent her heart into a tailspin. But she couldn’t let him get within ten feet of the Rose’s float. She might have entertained thoughts of a future with him. Might have actually seen herself playing Mrs. Manhattan once upon a time. Might have even liked it.
But this was it. Him or Holiday. Her desire for saving her hometown trumped any leftover feelings she’d harbored for the traitor.
“Get away from me.” She shoved with all the might her five-foot-two frame contained.
He didn’t budge. “Hey, I need to talk to you.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you. Not now. Not later. Not ever.”
“I’m going to change your mind about that, I promise. But first, my dad’s here. You were right—he wants to shut down the Rose.”
“I saw him. Waylon disabled their caravan of Escalades. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that. As for you—”
“Charlie,” Darby yelled from the back of the float. “He’s here. I don’t know how he did it, but you’ve got Mr. Holiday and the Dickwad Brigade incoming.”
Beck took her face between his hands. “I should have fought harder for you. For the Rose.”
She closed her eyes, letting herself relish the feel of his hands on her skin for what she was sure would be the very last time.
“What’s going on?” Darby jogged over to where they stood.
“I’ve got to get on that float.” Beck turned Charlie toward the truck and propelled her forward. “If his goons get here before we take off, they’ll never let me get to the end of the route.”
“But if you’re on the float—”
“I’ll get the Rose.”
“And you’ll turn it over to your dad or sell it yourself. I can’t let that happen. I’ve—”
“My dad’s trying to keep me from the float. There’s a loophole in the will. If I don’t inherit the Rose fair and square, he’s going to use every resource at his disposal to make sure the Rambling Rose is ripped away from you.” Beck glanced back. “You’ve got to trust me, Charlie.”
Her heart squeezed. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over.
“It’s yours,” he said. “Sully would have wanted you to have it. But I can’t give it to you unless I get on that float.” Beck leaned down, his eyes searching hers.
She wanted to believe him—desperately wanted to think he’d make good on his word. But her mind kept racing back to when she’d trusted him before. And he’d let her down. “Beck, I—”
His hands wrapped around her arms. “I love you, Charlotte Walker.”
“What are we doing here, Charlie?” Darby had climbed behind the wheel. The floats in front of them had started to move.
Charlie hesitated. Long enough to see the caravan of black Escalades screech to a stop behind them. No time to think. No time for a new plan. No time for second-guessing herself. “Darby, put it in gear. I need you to bump us to the front of the line.”
“You got it, Boss.” Darby stuck a thumbs-up out the window.
Charlie pushed Beck toward the float as Shep jogged across the road with Baby Back on a rhinestone leash, her Sweetest Swine sash stretched around her growing belly. “I don’t have time to explain. Can you get Baby Back on the float and hold on tight?”
“Yeah, sure.” Shep didn’t break his stride. He lifted Baby Back’s front legs onto a set of low steps they’d cut into the side of the float, and she clambered up to take her place of honor.
“You’re sure this is the only way?” She grabbed onto Beck’s hand as they reached the steps of the float.
“I promise.”
She held his gaze for a long moment. Long enough to recognize the love shining in his eyes. What did this mean? Would he stick around? There was no time to talk. He already held her heart in his hands. She’d have to trust him not to crush it to bits. She reached into her pocket and pulled out Sully’s lucky coin, then rose to her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Beck’s cheek while she tucked the half-dollar into his front pocket.
“You need this more than I do right now. I trust you. Now go!”
Beck scrambled up the steps, then looked back and winked at her. That tiny signal spurred her into motion.
She raced to the driver’s side window. “Go, Darby. You’ve got to floor it and get to the end of the parade before it’s too late.”
“You got it, girl.” The fire engine in front of her hadn’t started moving yet, so Darby pulled around it. Past Whitey’s giant pair of Styrofoam cowboy boots. Past Dixie and her dance partner doing a square-dance demo on the flatbed of the classic country AM station’s float. Past the 4-H club members with their goats, cows, horses, and pigs trailing behind them on leads.
Charlie stood on the curb, watching the float careen down the road to finally bust into the lineup in front of the high school’s marching band and behind the crazy clown cars of the Shriners.
Before she could let out a sigh of relief, she caught sight of a couple of Holiday’s thugs. They must have abandoned their SUVs to canvas the crowd on foot. She stepped behind a vendor holding a big bunch of balloons, and they took off again. They’d never get through the crowds lining the parade route. Beck would get his ride.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Beck held on to the float with one hand and Baby Back’s leash with the other. The marching band played while the float crept through the small downtown. He let go every once in a while to wave, calling out to friends and acquaintances he’d made during his time in Holiday. This must be how his grandfather had felt when he’d ridden in the parade every year.
Fresh feelings of loss bubbled up, threatening to turn what should have been the sweet buzz of success into a bittersweet moment of nostalgia. How he wished he’d had the chance to meet Sully. It had taken him a while, but he’d come to see his grandfather in the legacy he’d left behind…in the Rose, in the people of Holiday, in himself. Finally, the float came to a stop at the end of the route, the newly renovated park on the edge of town.
Beck handed Baby Back’s leash over to Shep. “Can you take care of this for me?”
“You got someplace to be?” Shep asked as he wrapped the lead around his hand.
“As a matter of fact, I do. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”
Darby leaned out the window of the truck. “Hey, where are you going?”
“I’ve got a few things to take care of. Tell Charlie I’ll find her in a bit, okay?” He broke into a jog. The first step of his plan was complete, but he needed to see the rest through.
Darby shook her head. “You’d better not be running away.”
He waved her off. No more tricks. No more lies. No more trying to be someone he didn’t want to be. He couldn’t wait to get started. But first, he needed to take care of something. Something that looked a lot like his dad arriving in a caravan of three ridiculously out-of-place, giant, black SUVs.
Beck walked toward his father as he exited the first vehicle. “You’re too late, Dad.”
His father tilted his sunglasses down and peered over the rims, an amused smirk on his lips. “Excuse me?”
“I said you’re too late. It’s done.”
Holiday huffed on the lenses of his glasses and pulled a handkerchief from his front suit pocket. “I forgot how damn dirty this place gets. The dust alone will make you insane.”
“There’s nothing for you here. No reason for you to be here or get involved. Why don’t you head back to New York?”
“I made
you a good offer on that rattrap. It’s not too late to change your mind. I can’t believe you’re going to turn me down and give up the chance to have a piece of the pie, Son.”
“I don’t want a piece of your pie.” Hell, he didn’t even want to sit at the same table as his father anymore. To think that once that had been the sum of his life’s aspirations—to impress his dad and earn a spot on the management team.
“I don’t think you mean that. What about your buddy J.T.? The two of you seemed to be in cahoots. Are you going to walk away from him? Turn your back on a friend?”
That stung. Beck was prepared to take responsibility for trashing his own career. But the thought of causing J.T.’s future to implode nagged at him. “This is all on me. J.T. shouldn’t be punished for one of my decisions.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. The boy shows initiative. I think I’ll put him in charge of that hotel project in the Village when I get back.”
Three months ago, that project had been Beck’s. The threat of his dad ripping it away would have had him begging for another chance. But not anymore. He’d seen the kind of corruption and inflated self-worth his dad’s aspirations had caused.
“Good. He’ll do a great job for you.” For a split second, Beck considered how it might feel to spit at his dad’s feet. He wanted to sully those sassy, shiny Italian loafers.
“What about you, Son? You’ve lost everything. Kind of screwed yourself over now, haven’t you?”
He’d never get it. Wasn’t worth the breath it would take to try to explain things to him. “Yep. That’s me. Self-screwing. All fucked up. I think I’m going to hang out here for a bit. See if I can find a place to crash until I figure out what I want to do next.”
Holiday slid his sunglasses back in place and pocketed the handkerchief. “I’ve got to say, I’m disappointed in you. You’re just like him, you know.”
“Who?”
“Your grandfather. He was a damn fool. Could have made something out of himself, but he wouldn’t leave this hellhole. Enjoy his legacy. It’s all you’ve got left.”
Beck could have let his father go with that. Let him have the final word like he always had. But this might be the last time he’d share air with the man. He had to know the truth.
“That’s why you left, isn’t it? You couldn’t stand not being the most important Holiday in town. So you took the key to Sully’s safety deposit box and cashed in all those savings bonds he had. You built your business on your father’s back. The sad thing is, he would have forgiven you for that. But you couldn’t let it go, could you? You’ve spent your whole life trying to prove to everyone that Beckett Sullivan Holiday Jr. isn’t the piece of shit his father always knew he was.”
Holiday spun around to face him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“But I do, Dad. Sully sent both of us letters. Letters you marked ‘Return to sender.’ He begged you to come home. Said he’d forgive you for stealing the money. He wanted his family back. But you were too proud, weren’t you?”
“He was never a father to me. He loved that damn bar more than he ever cared about his own son. You can’t imagine what that feels like.”
Beck wanted to laugh out loud at the irony of that statement. “I read the letters, Dad. You were jealous of the legacy he was building. The legacy he wanted to leave for you.”
“We’re through here. I’ve got better things to do than listen to you spout off about things you know nothing about.”
“You ever want a real relationship with me, one not based on what I can add to your bottom line or how well I can kiss your ass, you’ll know where to find me.”
His dad didn’t look back. He climbed into the waiting dust-covered SUV. Beck watched until the vehicle became a speck on the horizon, waiting for some sort of emotion to hit him. Nothing.
A few long seconds passed before Dwight shuffled over. “Wow. And I thought my old man was an asshole.”
Beck shook his head and let out a defeated laugh. “Yeah. At least that’s something my dad will always be best at.”
“Hey, man to man, I’m sorry about earlier. I promise I was only doing what I thought would help Charlie. If you wanna kick the shit outta me—”
Beck clapped a hand on Dwight’s shoulder and turned him toward the tractor. “Forget about it. That’s what family does—look out for each other. Now…want to drive me over to the Rose? I’ve got a Texas-sized apology to make, and I’m going to need some help.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Charlie parked at the edge of the lot and scrambled out of the truck. What a day. Over the past forty-eight hours, she’d grown to appreciate the term bone-tired. Everything ached. She wanted to fall into bed, pull the covers over her eyes, and sleep until Christmas. But it was only four o’clock. In three hours, all of Holiday would descend on the Rose for the annual Founder’s Day Fling. And according to Beck, she’d be in charge. This time not only as manager but as owner and operator of the oldest honky-tonk in Texas. It hadn’t sunk in yet.
She’d spent the past couple hours driving all over Holiday, looking for Beck. He wasn’t downtown where he’d left her at the start of the parade. Wasn’t at Sully’s. Wasn’t at the bomb shelter where Dwight admitted to hiding him overnight. God, she could strangle that idiot with her bare hands for what he’d put both of them through today.
Beck wasn’t answering his phone or responding to any of her texts. There was so much she wanted to say to him. So much she needed to say. He couldn’t avoid her forever. She’d make sure things were ready to go at the Rose and resume her search.
“Hey, Boss.” Angelo called out from the barbecue pit. He’d been smoking brisket for the past two days. “How was the parade?”
She stepped over the long grass on the side of the building. Add that to the list: someone needed to mow the lawn. “Memorable. You ready for tonight?”
“I will be.”
“Good. Should be a big crowd. Everyone setting up inside?”
“Yep.”
Charlie nodded. Where would she be without the reliable help of folks like Angelo and Shep? She owed Darby and Waylon a year’s worth of babysitting for what they’d done for her today. But that’s what it was all about. Looking out for the people she loved and knowing she could count on them to have her back, too. She entered the building and headed toward her office. She expected to hear the sounds of pots clanging in the kitchen, servers setting up the tables in the dance hall, and Shep slinging bottles into the cooler. Instead, music drifted through the speakers. The band wouldn’t set up until six.
As she moved toward the ballroom, the music got louder. She’d recognize Charlie Daniels’s voice anywhere. What was going on?
She paused at the entrance to the room. Thousands of twinkle lights crisscrossed through the rafters. Vases of pink roses decorated every table. Where had everyone gone? She walked to the center of the dance floor and turned in a slow circle, peering into the dark corners of the room. Charlie Daniels sang on, the familiar lyrics like a balm to her soul.
Beck crossed the stage and hopped down onto the dance floor. The sight of him smacked into her like a bucking bronc’s heels to the chest, and she didn’t know whether to hug him or tackle him for all the stress and worry she’d suffered over the past several days.
“Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over town for you.”
He met her in the middle of the dance floor and set down the pink paint cans he held in both hands. “I need to talk to you, Charlie.”
“Where is everyone?”
“I sent them outside.”
“Who did this?” She gestured to the lights and flowers. Darby had suspended some giant pink-tissue-paper balls from the beams crossing the ceiling, but this, the lights, it was breathtaking.
He raised a hand. “Guilty.”
“When?”
&n
bsp; “Just now. Dwight helped. I think he felt bad after he finally confessed about skunking my beer, changing the paint color, and kidnapping me overnight.”
She placed a palm on his chest, preventing him from getting any closer. “He did that all on his own. I just wanted to talk to you.”
He caught her hand. “I know. I should have listened.”
“Where’s your dad?”
“He left. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him again. I met with Mr. Hill right after the parade and signed the paperwork.” He handed her a fat envelope. “The Rose is yours now.”
Her eyes welled, tears threatening to spill over. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do.” He tugged her close and started to sway to the music.
“But what about your park? Your promise to your nanny?”
“I’ll sell my apartment and my car. With the money Sully left me, I can still afford to make the donation in my own name.”
“Are you sure?”
His lips met her hairline, and a shiver raced through her. “Positive. It’s the way it’s meant to be.”
She trembled, chilled by his admission. “But it’s not fair.”
“Yes, it is. Sully would have wanted you to have it.” He stopped moving and pulled back to meet her gaze. “I’m so sorry. I agreed to hand the Rose over to my dad long before I got to know the people in Holiday. Before I really got to know you. At the time, I saw the Rose as my dad’s due and my ticket to a guaranteed seat at the table of his company.”
“And now?” Her breath hitched in her throat. His answer could break her. She braced herself, steeling her heart against his response.
“Now?”
She nodded.
“Now I know what matters. You’ve taught me so much in such a short time. How family doesn’t necessarily mean the people who share your DNA. About putting other people first and not expecting anything in return.” He tipped his head down, his voice so soft, speaking right against her lips. In time with the music, he sang the lyrics with Charlie Daniels: “How very much I love you.”