I'll See You Again: A Scottish rock star, standalone opposites-attract romance (Reigning Hearts Book 4)

by K. G. Fletcher

  I’ll See You Again

  Reigning Hearts – Book Four

  KG FLETCHER

  Copyright © 2020 Kelly Genelle Fletcher

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-7320240-7-6

  Printed in the United States of America.

  **FAIR WARNING: This book contains scenes of detailed intimacy and liberal use of profanity. It is intended for readers 18+**

  I’ll See You Again

  Reigning Hearts – Book Four

  I’ll See You Again is part of the

  ~Reigning Hearts ~ collection.

  Each book in the series is STANDALONE

  * Run to the Sea

  * Stars Fall From the Sky

  * A Sun So Bright

  *I’ll See You Again

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case the author has not received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  For a complete list of KG’s books visit: www.kgfletcherauthor.com

  Content Editor - C.B. Deem

  Copy Editor - Vicky Burkholder

  Cover art by Bookish Gals

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Dedication

  For Carrie.

  “Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,

  Say, could that lad be I?

  Merry of soul he sailed on a day

  Over the sea to Skye.”

  ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

  Chapter One

  “Mr. Logan? Excuse me, Mr. Logan?”

  As she leaned into the groom’s ear, Nicky kept a professional distance while urging her client to respond. He sat crumpled in a chair near the restrooms — bow tie missing, shirttails hanging out, and his hair plastered to his damp forehead in sweaty pieces. Those impressive table-top dance moves proved a bit over-the-top for him despite the encouragement of the crowd just a few minutes earlier. The attractive young couple had been throwing down all afternoon, and here sat the bride’s beloved hot mess.

  Looking around the empty hallway, Nicky contemplated what to do next. The rambunctious groom had clearly over-indulged during the afternoon wedding reception, consuming countless shots with his fraternity brothers. It wasn’t unusual for a twenty-something wedding party to have a good time with numerous cocktails—the bar tab alone would give her a substantial profit. But her reputation as the premier country-themed event venue this side of the Hudson River was built on her business savvy, her personal touches, and her devotion to her clientele.

  With her hands on her hips, she pursed her lips to the side and shook her head. She knew better than to allow the bartender to keep serving trays of shots to the rowdy bridesmaids and groomsmen, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves – and shouldn’t recent college grads know how to party and hold their liquor? Nicky couldn’t help but grimace knowing what a catastrophe this poor newlywed couple’s first night was going to be as husband and wife. Instead of a night of passion, the bride would no doubt be holding the groom’s hand while he cursed Captain Morgan while worshipping the porcelain god in their hotel bathroom. Oh well… at least they’d have a somewhat funny story to tell their kids someday – about how their daddy was more interested in a pirate than a princess on his wedding day.

  “Here he is,” one of the groomsmen shouted, as he leaned against the wall, staggering to Mr. Logan’s aid. A whole slew of handsome guys in various disarrays of tuxes gathered around the groom and slung his limp arms across their shoulders. The enthusiastic group whisked him back into the reception space just in time to set him on his wobbly feet for the couple’s send-off through a shower of flower petals into the backseat of a fancy convertible.

  “Poor fella,” Marjorie lamented, coming up alongside her daughter as they watched the guests begin to disperse.

  “You got that right,” Nicky replied, releasing a sigh of relief.

  As the guests started to clear out, the staff was already in clean up mode, another successful, albeit drunken wedding in the books.

  “Why don’t you get out of here and I’ll make sure things get locked up after clean up. After all that foolishness, you deserve a night off,” Marjorie insisted.

  “You sure?”

  “Positive. Enjoy the rest of tonight. We can debrief later.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Leave it to her mother to give her a much-needed break, especially under the circumstances.

  After trudging upstairs to her loft apartment above the reception space for a quick change out of her professional wedding planner attire into something more comfortable, Nicky was soon on her way toward the quaint downtown area of Cold Creek. Rolling her neck around a few times while gripping the steering wheel of her SUV, she was more than ready for the laid back evening ahead. The thick foliage of green summer leaves on either side of the road whizzed past her in the lingering daylight, and the only thing on her mind after yet another perfectly-planned wedding, was a tall frosty craft beer from the local pub on Main Street – and catching up with her friend, Amber who owned the place.

  When her thriving business, White Barn Weddings, took off the previous summer, Nicky became intentional about not overdoing it. The last thing she wanted was to inundate her family’s upstate New York organic farm with constant, demanding bride and groom traffic. Early on, she decided to allow only one wedding per weekend. It was all she could reasonably handle with her small staff during the peak season, and even then, her mother often stepped in to help out with the larger groups.

  The family farm renewed a magical hometown heartbeat, and the barn was that pulse. The exterior restoration of the structure emphasized the classic gable roofline with white board batten siding with black trim. The cherry on top was the stacked fieldstone lower siding wrapped like an apron all the way around. The large structure was the perfect setting for a shabby-chic reception in the country. Modern restrooms and an industrial kitchen completed the massive renovations, and the loft was transformed into an onsite living space for her. From the ambient string lights hung in the rafters, to the small stage and state-of-the-art sound equipment ready for a local band, her family’s barn was a sought after reception space for New Yorkers tying the knot. Add the idyllic village of Cold Creek to the mix, and it was a win-win for her family and the community.

  What really catapulted her small business into a thriving money-maker almost overnight was Fiona Merrill’s wedding to Nicky’s dear friend and part-time neighbor, Chris Ballard. Leave it to Fiona, a billionaire-philanthropist and socialite, to gush about her in last fall’s Modern Bride Magazine, solidifying Nicky’s new business on the map. Fiona went on and on in the article about the intimate reception space and the attention to detail Nicky became known for. What really did the trick was the glossy photo spread of the famous couple staring dreamily at each other in front of a long table laden wi
th picture-perfect food, flowers, and flickering candles against the backdrop of rustic elegance. It was the ideal advertisement for White Barn Weddings, and she was grateful.

  Shaking off the stress of the day, Nicky turned onto Main Street. The collective charm of the town was steeped in historic nineteenth century architecture like that of the River House Inn. The quaint eclectic cafes, trinket shops, boutiques and charming bookstore added to the laid-back village. The Good Pub was the local watering hole, but for Nicky, it was a refreshing retreat from her daily grind. Her best friend, Amber, owned the place, and was known for featuring award-winning local craft beer and spirits—and of course, the best burgers in town.

  Nicky furrowed her brow when she noticed the entrance to Amber’s pub lined with people out the door. This wasn’t unusual per se, since the small town often held a good bit of tourists throughout the summer. But standing in line after the day she had wasn’t part of her retreat and relax plan for the night.

  “Screw this.”

  Steering her way through the throngs of people and cars, Nicky turned into the nearby train station's parking lot. The tracks ran parallel to the Hudson River, and she could see in the distance a boat loaded with passengers heading toward the marina after a long tour, no doubt several of them ending up at the pub later for a cocktail. Quickly, she shoved her keys into the pocket of her frayed denim shorts and hit the pavement. A warm summer breeze blew her thick hair over her shoulders, and she couldn’t help but smile at the sweet pleasures of her hometown, Cold Creek. The Saturday evening crowd buzzed happily around her with shopping bags full of treasures, and little kids snacked on drippy ice cream cones and Italian ice from the local creamery. Nicky darted into the narrow alley that led to the pub's back entrance and pushed the giant metal door with her shoulder. Once inside the kitchen area, she greeted Amber’s staff with a warm welcome.

  “Hey!” Her senses were immediately assaulted with a whiff of spicy Buffalo sauce and chicken wings one of the cooks tossed in a silver bowl. “Easy on the hot sauce, Fred,” she kidded, slapping the young guy on the shoulder. “Where’s Amber?”

  “Hey, Nick. Well, at the moment she’s playing barback and restocking the booze. We’re getting slammed. Did you see the crowd tonight? Fucking crazy!”

  “I know. There’s a line out the door. What’s going on?” she asked, grabbing a carrot stick from the garnishing station and taking a bite.

  “Some hot-shot musician showed up out of the blue. He talked Amber into letting him do an unplugged concert. I guess word got out.”

  During the busy summer season, The Good Pub often hosted bands coming through on their way to the Big Apple, keeping the locals and the influx of tourists entertained. It wasn’t unusual for live music to bring in a large crowd. Nicky swallowed and watched Fred plate the hot wings, wondering why Amber hadn’t mentioned any surprise musicians. As soon as Fred set the dish on the service counter, a waitress clad in shorts and a black t-shirt with the pub logo swooped in and grabbed it.

  “Thanks, Fred. Hey Nicky,” the young waitress hollered, making a beeline out the swivel doors.

  “Hey, Monica!” Nicky shouted back. Taking another bite of the carrot, she turned to Fred. “What’s the musician’s name? Anyone I’d know?”

  The friendly cook was already working on plating several burgers hot off the grill, his hands moving non-stop in the busy kitchen. “I can’t remember his name. I only listen to country music, and this guy isn’t even American. He’s got a funny accent – reddish hair. He and his cousin are hanging out in Amber’s office till showtime.” He motioned his head toward her feet. “I’m sure Amber could use some extra help tonight behind the bar. Good thing you’re wearing closed-toe shoes.”

  Nicky glanced at her worn boat shoes – standard wear in the summertime unless she was feeling extra feisty and wore her cowboy boots. “Sure. I can help.” Stuffing the rest of the carrot into her mouth, she tied her dark hair back with a red bandanna she’d tucked in her pocket before heading toward the swivel doors that led to the bar area. The boisterous crowd could be heard from the other side, the current of excitement in the air buzzing like a live electric wire. Putting her hand out to palm the door open, she nearly collided with Amber.

  “Girl! I’m so glad you’re here,” Amber shrieked, grabbing Nicky’s elbow and pulling her toward the closed door of the office. The bar owner was energetic and quick on her feet, her dirty blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail with several errant wisps floating around her face.

  “Who’s in there?” Nicky asked as she watched her friend blow a puff of air to move a stray piece of hair out of her vision.

  Amber was clearly overworked, and overheated, evidence of perspiration dotting her upper lip. A huge smile erupted across her cherub face. “Reid Macpherson and his cousin, James. Can you believe it?” Amber’s big brown eyes were animated as she slid her fingers across the wooden door with reverence.

  “Who?” Nicky tilted her head, trying to recall the name.

  “Oh my god. You need to get out more – or at least fix the damn radio in your SUV. Reid Macpherson!” she scolded as if Nicky should know precisely who that was.

  At the sight of Amber’s flustered state, a giggle erupted from Nicky’s mouth. “Sorry. Doesn’t ring a bell,” she admitted, shaking her head. Sure, she enjoyed good music, but she was an oldies girl, thanks to her father. Give her a crooner in a tux with a full orchestra, and she was a happy camper.

  Amber rolled her eyes and grabbed the doorknob. “You can thank me later.” Swinging the door open with gusto, she revealed two handsome men seated on folding chairs. They looked up with interest with their acoustic guitars perched on their laps and picks in hand. Amber pulled Nicky by the elbow into the room, and as if on cue, the guy with reddish hair and tattoos decorating his muscled arms grinned.

  “Gentlemen. I’d like to introduce you to my good friend, Nicky Sinclair. She’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

  Still staring at the two gorgeous men, Nicky did a double-take before she focused on her friend with eyebrows raised. “I am?” she stuttered, not sure what her friend was up to.

  Amber winked with a nod. “Whatever you want, guys. Just let Nick know, and she’ll get it for you. She’s local and knows everyone in this town. You’re in good hands.”

  By this time, the two men were standing, the one with the reddish hair continuing to grin from ear to ear. His cornflower-blue eyes seemed to rake over her from head to toe. “Nicky – it’s a pleasure. We’re glad to meet ye.”

  When he reached out to shake her hand, Nicky’s focus turned to the intricate designs of the tattoos on his exposed forearms. She’d never seen anything like them. When she slid her hand into his, he leaned forward and kissed her knuckles, causing her skin to tingle. “I’m Reid Macpherson. Ye can call me, Mac. This here is my cousin, James.”

  “How do ye do?” James bowed, his brow arching as if he were trying to hide a definitive smirk.

  Their distinct accents, chivalrous behavior, and large, muscular frames took up most of the space in Amber’s cramped office, and Nicky could feel an unexpected heat rise on the back of her neck. “Nice to meet you, too,” she muttered, befuddled by the two foreigners.

  “Fellas, I gotta go sling some drinks. You good to start in ten?” Amber asked. The spritely woman was all of five feet and stood with her hands on her hips as if she were the tallest person in the room.

  “Aye, ten works,” James replied, taking a seat to tune his guitar strings. Nicky couldn’t help noticing the shimmer of a silver band on his left hand.

  “I’ll be back in ten minutes to get you then.” Amber turned to Nicky and raised an eyebrow. She knew that look – her spirited friend was up to something, for sure, and leaving her in a small room with ridiculously good looking musicians seemed to be part of her plot.

  “Get these guys whatever they want. Just help yourself behind the bar, okay? If they need any food from the kitchen, have Monica ring it up on th
e house tab.” Standing on her tip-toes, she gave Nicky a quick peck on the cheek before exiting, pulling the door shut with a thump. Nicky stood there with her mouth hanging open, speechless.

  Reid Macpherson continued to stare at her, which made her uncomfortable. Clearing her throat, she tucked an errant strand of her hair behind her ear, determined not to come undone. “So, uh…where are you guys from?”

  Mr. Macpherson’s lips curled up into a smile from behind his full beard. “Aberdeen.”

  Nicky nodded, acting like she knew where that was. “Oh, sure.” She rocked back and forth on her heels and snapped her fingers in mock recognition. “Aberdeen…”

  “Scotland,” James added with a distinct brogue.

  “Yes! Scotland. Aberdeen, Scotland. I knew that.” Pressing her lips together, she nodded while averting Mac’s humored blue gaze. “So, what’ll it be fellas? Guinness Stout? Whiskey? Amber carries mostly craft beer and spirits made here in the state of New York.”

  She couldn’t help the way her voice shifted into a Cold Creek tour guide. Living in the small town her entire life, and running a lucrative wedding business full time made her keen to all of the vendors and small companies in the area.

  “The Hillrock Estate Distillery has a nice single malt whiskey I recommend,” she continued. “I’ve been on an excursion there – I learned they import Scottish peat for their Malthouse…” Her sentence ended with a shaky giggle, realizing she was babbling and couldn’t stop. She internally chided herself. It was that, or melt into a puddle underneath the gorgeous Mr. Macpherson’s feet. The man was dressed in black denim, sturdy motorcycle boots, and a black tee that accentuated his rock-hard physique. A silver pendant hung around his neck, and his hair was a shade lighter than the neatly trimmed auburn beard he sported across his fair-skinned face. His coloring was the exact opposite of his cousin, James, who had dark curls and hazel eyes. It was hard to conceive they were actually related.