by Jen Gilroy
“I . . . thanks.” He swallowed the unexpected lump of emotion and took an involuntary step back. He never talked about Amanda, but something about Annie soothed him. At the same time, though, being around her made his stomach flutter in an unfamiliar way. He hadn’t been celibate since Amanda walked out, but until now, he’d never met a woman he wanted to get close to in a way that went way beyond anything physical. “I’m not used to big families.”
“I’ve never known anything but big families. My mom’s one of eight kids, and my dad was one of six. When the whole clan gets together, it’s almost as big as the church picnic.” She laughed then worried her bottom lip. “Hannah’s an only child. As far as producing kids goes, I fell way short of the family standard.”
Seth winced at the sadness in her voice. Somebody, sometime, had hurt her bad. Both that tone and the pain lodged deep in her gentle blue eyes came from more than grief over Jake’s death. “There’s nothing wrong with only children. I’m one and so is Dylan.”
A sweet smile tugged one corner of her mouth. “If your son comes to visit while you’re here, Mom will want to invite him over for a meal, too. She loves feeding people.”
“Dylan’s busy at school.” Seth dug in the pocket of his jeans and curled his fingers around his truck keys until the metal dug into his palm.
“It’s good he’s focused on college. Hannah needs to think more about college and her future.” Her expression tightened as she glanced at her daughter, who stood by the side of the stage with a rapt expression on her face. “I have to get Duncan home, and if I don’t drag Hannah out of here, she’ll want to listen to that music for the rest of the night, and she has school tomorrow. I’ll leave Mom’s address under the door of Jake’s apartment. She and Duncan live three streets over from the bakery beyond the Catholic church. Their place is easy to find.”
“The Catholic church?” From what he’d seen so far, Irish Falls had an abundance of churches, most of them historic.
“The one with the statues of saints out front.” She gave him a small smile.
“Thanks.” His hands got damp. He couldn’t have feelings for Annie. He’d only met her yesterday. Besides, he wasn’t at the right place in his life to have feelings for any woman, especially not one who lived here. Irish Falls and everything about it was temporary. “I didn’t know about Jake’s funeral, but where was he laid to rest? I’d like to pay my respects.”
“Of course.” Annie’s face went pink. “I’ll take you. What about tomorrow afternoon? I get off work at two. The cemetery’s a few miles out of town.”
“I don’t want to bother you. I’m sure I can find it on my own if you point me in the right direction. My GPS works fine.” Besides, if he limited the time he spent with her, he’d limit that prickle of attraction toward her too.
“Not in this area it won’t.” Amusement tinged her voice. “You might find yourself in the middle of a creek or halfway up a mountain.” The pink on her face deepened, and she cleared her throat. “It’s no bother. Now the snow’s gone, I want to go out there to tidy up and . . . you know . . . visit. My dad and my grandmother are buried there, too. I haven’t done anything about a headstone for Jake. I thought you’d want to organize that.”
“Of course.” He stared at his feet. The rituals of death were familiar and yet foreign, especially for a man he barely remembered.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” The sympathy in Annie’s tone made him feel like he’d known her for years. “And good luck with the show. We’ll all be listening.” She touched his arm, then, with a little wave, she was gone. A fresh floral scent lingered in her wake and masked the stale roadhouse smell.
The blonde singer shook her curvy hips and squeaked out a high note. The guitarist glanced at Seth, raised his sandy eyebrows, and shrugged.
Under the cover of the music, Seth choked out a laugh. He’d messed things up with his son, and even though it hadn’t been his fault, his career was messed up, too, and his creative muse was missing in action. But although he might be down, he sure wasn’t out.
He shrugged into his jacket and straightened his shoulders. Nobody, not even Dylan, would ever have to know the real reason he’d decided to stick around Irish Falls. Jake’s station was in surprisingly good shape and, although he didn’t have anything to prove, maybe running it for a while was exactly what he needed. If anybody back in LA ever asked, it was a business opportunity. And when he did return to the City of Angels, he’d have cleared his name, and found respect with himself again, and, most importantly, from his son.
~ ~ ~
“Seth sure has a sexy voice.” Tara inclined her head toward the radio on a shelf in the bakery kitchen and sliced a log of chilled cookie dough in a smooth rhythm. “It’s the kind of voice you could get used to waking up to.” She winked at Annie. “On a pillow next to you.”
“Stop it.” Annie’s stomach lurched and she glanced at Holly, her brother Brendan’s wife, making scones on the other side of the big table.
She only had to pretend it was a morning like any other and Seth doing the show was the same as when Steve did it, or even Jake. It wasn’t anything to get worked up about. When Monday rolled around, she’d be more used to Seth’s voice, warm like hot fudge sauce on cold vanilla ice cream, and how it made her feel.
“No need to hush her for my sake, honey,” Holly said. “Tara’s right. Seth Taggart is exactly what that morning show needs. He’s got a face and body to match his voice, too. The word at yoga last night was he sent Lisa Drysdale into a hot flash when she bumped into him in the produce aisle at Nolan’s grocery. I can sure see why.” Holly grinned and fanned herself with a pot holder.
“Says the woman who’s been married for almost twenty-five years to my big brother, no less.” Annie went to the sink and ran cold water over her floury hands. “Brendan better not hear you talking that way. He’s out front checking a delivery.”
Holly’s throaty laugh rippled out. “Brendan has nothing to worry about. Like a fine wine, he’s only gotten better with age.” She turned the dough onto a floured surface in a deft motion. “Although, these days he’s getting to be more of a silver fox, he’s still my red-hot redhead and he knows it.”
“We don’t know how long Seth will stay here. We can’t get used to him doing the show,” Annie said. She took a shaky breath. It would be all too easy to get used to him, and, after waking up to Seth, nobody in Irish Falls would want to go back to waking up to Steve. Her fingers tingled as she dried them with a kitchen towel. Even when he talked about something as ordinary as the weather, Seth’s voice reached deep inside and made her feel like his words were for her alone.
“We have to convince him to stay.” Tara slid a sheet of cookies into one of the commercial ovens and set the timer.
Annie got out the ingredients for the date and walnut loaf, Quinn’s Friday special. Apart from the specials of the day, the morning routine, comforting and predictable, never varied. “Why would a guy like Seth stay in a place like Irish Falls? He’s a high flier. Look at his clothes and that new truck parked out back.”
But it was more than what was on the outside. Even from the little Annie knew about him, Seth’s attitude was big city, not small town. Whether walking down Malone Street, or sitting in the Black Duck, it was obvious he didn’t belong around these parts. And that was before he opened his mouth and that liquid Southern drawl spilled out to turn her insides to putty.
“Seth’s not as successful as you might think.” Even though the three of them were alone in the kitchen, Holly lowered her voice. “When I got home after yoga, I looked on the Internet. I couldn’t find out exactly what happened, but it sounds like something went wrong with a guy he worked with. Anyway, even though it wasn’t Seth’s fault, he still lost a big contract and had to close down his business.”
“How awful.” Tara glanced at Annie.
>
“It is.” Holly frowned. “I don’t know how some people sleep at night. Up until a month ago, Seth had no idea what was going on. I guess his business partner had been cheating him for ages.”
“A month ago?” Around the time Jake had updated his will. Annie’s heart thumped and adrenaline jolted through her.
“That’s what the article said.” Holly’s brown eyes softened. “If it’s true, Seth needs a break.”
Annie turned to look out the window above the counter. The branches of the wishing tree swayed in the spring breeze, and sunlight danced on its new green buds. Jake had never mentioned Seth to her or any of them, but he must have kept tabs on him.
“We better not say anything. Seth wouldn’t want folks talking about him.” Tara’s voice yanked Annie back to the present.
“Of course not.” Maybe the will update was a coincidence. Or maybe not. “But Holly likely won’t be the only one in town to Google him.” If Hannah’s destructive kitten hadn’t taken Annie offline, she’d have done so late last night when she’d lain awake thinking about that sadness in his eyes she’d glimpsed at the Black Duck. Not to mention that unexpected tingle in her fingertips when she’d touched his arm to wish him luck for the show.
“Seth’s taking requests.” Holly’s voice rose above the radio, and she tucked several strands of brown hair back under her hairnet. “Shush.”
“Holly, this song comes to you from Brendan because you’ll always be the love of his life.” Seth’s melodic voice rolled into the sudden silence of the kitchen, and Annie caught her breath. “It’s an oldie but still a goodie. John Michael Montgomery, ‘I Love the Way You Love Me.’”
“Ooh, ooh, he . . . Brendan . . .” Holly squealed. “That’s our song. We danced our first dance to it at our wedding.”
“Who knew my brother could be so romantic?” Tara grabbed a spoon and swayed in time to the music.
Annie chopped walnuts, and her hand tightened around the handle of the knife. It was romantic, but what would it be like to have somebody love you enough to announce it to the whole town? To have that somebody still love you as much as he had when you were eighteen, even after four kids, a mortgage, and all life’s ups and downs.
She glanced at Holly, who stared at the radio with a besotted expression. Then at Tara, who had her eyes closed as she swayed to the music. Both of them believed in happy ever after—Holly because she still had it, and Tara because she’d had it once and would always carry the memories in her heart. Annie dumped the walnuts into a bowl and tore open a package of dates. Seth had sounded so sincere when he’d talked about love. What had happened between him and his ex-wife? And why had he raised his son alone?
The song ended, and a beep signaled the news. It was already eight and they were behind schedule. “Are you two going to do some work? The cake for that fortieth anniversary party won’t ice itself.” Annie’s voice came out sharper than she intended so she forced a smile.
Tara smiled back and tossed the spoon into the sink. “It’s sweet. I wish . . .” Her voice hitched, and guilt smote Annie. “Holly’s lucky.”
“Yeah, she is.” And all that sweetness and luck had Annie tied up in knots. Holly wasn’t only her sister-in-law, she was another sister. And Brendan helped her with something around Nana Gerry’s old house at least once a week. Her ringside seat to their happy marriage had never bothered her before.
“I’ve got fresh cinnamon buns to take up to the station. Annie?” Holly slid a basket along the counter toward her. “Friday’s your day.”
“Can’t you or Tara do it?” Seth’s voice had already unsettled her enough for one morning. She didn’t need to see the man, too.
Holly gave her a cheeky grin. “Nope. As soon as I finish these scones, I want to help Brendan out front. After that song, my hubby needs to know how much I love him. Maybe he can finish early. The guy starts work at four every morning and gets up at three. I think he needs some R&R, don’t you?”
“Please. No more information. That’s my brother you’re talking about.” Annie made a face. “Tara?”
“I can’t leave these cookies.” Tara sliced another log of dough and avoided Annie’s gaze.
“But . . .” Annie stopped. She couldn’t let her sister or Holly guess how—or why—Seth had her all worked up. “Fine. I’ll do it.” She untied her apron, took off her hairnet, and smoothed her hair.
“You look beautiful.” Tara’s voice was soft.
“I’m only going upstairs.” Annie picked up the basket covered with a blue-checked napkin.
Tara reached over to give Annie a one-armed hug. “It’s exactly the same as when Jake and Steve were up in that radio station, isn’t it? Not.” Her soft chuckle was way too smug. “Go on, Annie-Bella.” Her steady gaze met Annie’s across the pungent cinnamon buns. “All you have to do is walk up those stairs.” Her sister’s tone was loving.
Tara was right, except, a few minutes later, looking at Seth through the familiar studio window, Annie pressed a hand to her all-of-a-sudden fluttery stomach. He wore a black, long-sleeved Henley, and his jaw was dark with beard stubble. He sat behind one of the microphones, with headphones over his ears, and his expression focused.
“This next song is for Annie Quinn and her family.” His voice came through the overhead speakers. “I want to thank them for what they did for my uncle, Jake Kerrigan. He was a good man, and I know he was a friend to many of you.” Seth’s voice cracked, and he hesitated for a fraction of a second. “It’s a classic Alabama tune I found on one of Jake’s playlists and fits what I’m feeling.”
The haunting notes of “Angels Among Us,” a song Jake had played on his Gibson many times, melded with the lyrics Annie knew by heart.
She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Seth. As if he sensed her gaze, he looked up and half rose from his seat to give her a smile as sweet as it was tender.
“Thanks,” she mouthed through the glass.
“No problem,” he mouthed back.
She took a step toward the closed studio door. Dolly was curled up on the carpet in front of it, the picture of a peaceful and happy dog. She couldn’t go in there. Seth was live on the air. She put the basket of cinnamon buns on top of a filing cabinet and gestured toward it before backing away.
Seth still looked at her through the window as the music rose and fell, like an invisible thread linking the two of them. She pressed her hands to her face. No matter how much she might want to, she couldn’t pretend to herself this morning was like any other. As long as Seth did the show, weekday mornings would never be the same.
Annie went out the door and down the wooden stairs to the bakery. It was no good to want something she couldn’t let herself have. Not even if it was big and sexy, and had a voice hot enough to melt even her ice-like resolve. She’d buried any regrets deep, and she had no intention of digging them up again now.
Chapter 5
Seth nudged the pile of fresh black dirt with the toe of his boot. A small wooden cross with Jake’s name on it was stuck into the end of the plot farthest away from where Seth stood.
The cemetery was three miles outside Irish Falls, down a series of what were, to him, identical tree-lined gravel roads. Without Annie’s help, he doubted he’d have found it. She stood with her back to him, in front of a headstone several rows over. Wrapped up in the blue duffle coat she’d worn the night before, her bright hair glinted in the wintry afternoon sun.
“It’s me, Seth.” He looked at the pile of dirt again. He was here to pay his respects, not obsess about the meaning of life. The wind whistled through the bare tree branches, and he shivered as he stuck his hands into his jacket pockets. “I thought of you a lot over the years.” His throat tightened. “I wondered why I never saw you again.”
The last time had been at his mom’s funeral. Jake had sat at the back of
the church, and in his black jeans and black dress shirt with the silver studs down the front, he’d stood out amongst the other mourners in their conservative suits and dresses.
Afterward, he’d drawn Seth close for a bear hug and whispered, “Take care of yourself, little buddy. And promise me you’ll keep on singing. Music can be a powerful comfort. It’ll get you through hard times when nothing much else will.”
Then his grandmother had pulled Seth away from Jake. Her blue eyes were icy and, although Seth hadn’t heard exactly what she said, her tone was unmistakable. And Jake hadn’t ever dropped by his grandparents’ house again. Sometimes, in the years that followed, Seth wondered if he’d imagined him. His grandparents had never spoken of Jake, at least not in his hearing, and it was like he’d never existed.
Seth crouched beside the dirt. “You were right, Uncle Jake,” he murmured. “Music has been a comfort. But you see . . .” He took a shaky breath of cool air. “I made some mistakes. I want to fix them, but I don’t know how.”
In the tree beside Jake’s grave, a crow cawed, a hoarse grating on Seth’s ears.
“I did your show this morning. I wanted to do you proud.” He picked up two small white stones and stacked one on top of the other. “Thanks for leaving me your Gibson. I’ll take good care of it. I learned to play guitar when I was fourteen.”
And his grandmother had hated it. Seth’s mouth tipped into a half-smile. Despite the piano lessons she’d insisted on, guitar was the instrument he loved. “When I was seventeen, I snuck into a club and heard you play. You were good.” More than good, but Seth had only recognized that much later. “I wanted to talk to you after the set, but I didn’t know what I’d say, or if you’d even remember me.”
Seth had been with friends, and he also hadn’t wanted to look stupid in front of the other guys. Then he’d got caught up in life and never thought to try to contact Jake again. Now it was too late.