Mac’s Daring Heart: Sweethearts of Country Music, Book 6

by Layne, Sandi

  Dad’s eyes bugged out and he choked on his Perrier. “What?” he managed to ask around a cough.

  “Boyfriend? Meet the parents before running off with the daughter? Shake hands?” She smoothed her hands over her short, outdoor-barbecue, denim skirt and plucked at the light, white crocheted top she wore over a red tank top. She was going for patriotic, but not showy.

  Her father, wearing dark jeans and a white button down, drew in a breath and then finished off his water before gesturing with the empty bottle. “Running off with my daughter? What?”

  “Dad! Not running off, running off. Running off as in away from the family parties. A date, y’know?”

  He took another sip from his Perrier bottle. “Right. Okay, so . . . good. Blakemore. He works with that shelter in Nashville.”

  Shocked, Mac rocked back on her sandaled feet. “You know The Place?”

  With that sort of elevated expression that indicated he knew he had the upper hand—she’d seen this look often during her younger years—Dad nodded slowly. “Of course. We don’t go to the benefit events, no. But we do contribute annually.”

  Surprise was still sparking under her skin. “Well, cool. Derek’s going to take me to The Place and show me around before the CMA Fest.”

  “Right. That.” Her dad darted a glance around before taking a step toward the house, lightly pressing her back to compel her to join him. “Why aren’t you playing the violin?”

  “I just did at Andy’s wedding, Dad,” she reminded him with a certain amount of asperity. “I play bass guitar for the band. You coming to the CMA Fest? It’s in a week and a half.”

  “You know your mother has never been into the country music stuff, sweetheart. She’s much more of a classical music person.” He glanced quickly around and lowered his voice a bit. “She appreciates the tradition of it. The dignity.”

  Mac bit back the things she felt she could argue with on that score. Retorts like, “Mozart was considered kind of a radical back in his day, you know.” Or maybe, “Liszt had rabid fans who begged for his hair clippings!” But she didn’t. Instead, she sighed. “Well. If you want to come, we’ll be on the Riverfront Stage. Saturday afternoon. I know it isn’t as nice as this, but folks bring blankets or small chairs and make a day of it. The hard part is finding parking.”

  Her father nodded slowly but didn’t commit to anything. “Thank you.”

  “Ben!” her mother called, waving a hand and smiling. “Mira Annice! Where’s your brother? I thought we’d get a family picture, this year.”

  Dad held up one hand. “Elizabeth! C’mon. We’re going to meet Mira’s boyfriend!”

  Elizabeth Cunningham stilled before she nodded. “Of course! Perhaps he could take the picture!”

  Mac groaned, not at all privately, as her mother flanked her and linked elbows. “What about your guests?” She jerked her head back to indicate the clustered guests who were sipping at drinks and nibbling at the tidbits left after the excellent grilled salmon and asparagus they’d had for lunch. Fresh fruit and some interesting munchies remained on the round tables, along with appropriate dips.

  “Mira’s boyfriend’s coming,” her mother announced grandly, as if the occasion had been expected and would presage great things in Clan Cunningham. “We’ll be right back. Sheri? You know where the ice cream is, if y’all want some.”

  “Ice cream?” Mac giggled a little helplessly. “Um, Micah and I kind of raided the freezer, Mom.”

  “Of course you did.” Her mother waved her free hand. “You didn’t eat all the Bruster’s did you?”

  Mac made herself go wide-eyed at the mention of her favorite ice cream brand. Bruster’s had a store in Brentwood, maybe fifteen minutes from Mom and Dad’s house. “Only the chocolate chip. Well, Micah had some of the Coffee Cake Streusel.”

  Dad smiled at Mom, and it was an expression Mac hadn’t ever really noticed before. It rocked her. Hard. All the way to her carefully polished toes. The folks had their roles in the family, were dedicated to their pursuits, and pushy with their children. All these labels told who they were. Honest and straightforward, pillars of the community, married for decades—such could read the headstones of Benjamin Abner Cunningham and Elizabeth Lydia Cunningham, one day. Hopefully a day far, far in the future. One important part of them, though, was clearly visible to her eyes at that precise moment.

  They loved each other. Really, truly, loved each other. In a flash of warmth that soothed and settled, Mac had a clearer understanding of her family than she had ever had in her whole life.

  Why had she never seen it before? Was it just that her relationship with Derek had made her, what, more sensitive to that kind of emotion? Was she maybe, oddly, growing up?

  Her parents had kept her in motion while her mind raced and danced and reconfigured itself in the space of a few heartbeats. It wasn’t until she heard her mother say, “Micah loves the Graham Canyon flavor, sweetheart, you know that,” that Mac was tugged out of her introspection.

  “He really does,” she murmured as they went into the cool comfort of the house. “But you only got one pint of it, so he went with the Streusel.”

  “What?”

  “Ah, Bambi, you’re telling on me!”

  Micah emerged from the downstairs hallway and slung an arm around her, effectively getting her out from between their parents. Mac elbowed him. “If you weren’t so greedy . . .”

  “I’m not the one with a hot date,” he retorted, clearly trying to rile her and their parents.

  He failed, as Dad and Mom merely nodded their acceptance. “We know, Micah,” Mom said in her cool, public voice. She also had an arm wrapped around her husband’s waist, which, again, threw Mac for a loop. “Mira wanted to introduce us.”

  “Didn’t you meet him at the wedding?”

  “Not as her boyfriend,” Dad shot back, hackles up as he set his empty Perrier bottle down on an end table.

  Amused, Mac shook her head. “Dad, Andy vetted him already. They were roomies for years, on and off campus at Vanderbilt.” Dad calmed down in a clearly visible way and she patted his back a bit before a text-alert tone on her phone sounded. “That’s him!”

  Anticipation bounced in her chest as she jogged to the front door. The house was kind of imposing, she had heard from school friends before she was banished to Maryland, and she wanted to be the one to welcome him to it. A brick house sounded cozy, but with wide steps, wrought iron rails, Gone With the Wind columns, and a heavy, glass-bracketed front door, just ringing the doorbell could be a work of intestinal fortitude.

  Still, she let Derek ring it and then counted to five. Because this was the first time he’d picked her up at her parents’ house and for some stupid reason, she felt like a teenager going on her first date. Then, unable to stop her grin, she opened the door to see Derek, dressed in his nearly trademarked khakis and a blue chambray shirt. “Hey!”

  “Hey, hon,” he said in answer, reaching for her hand.

  That smile. Killed her dead every time. He was all clean-shaven that day and she sighed a little over the loss of her favorite scruffy jaw, but her heart was still pounding away like she’d performed at the Ryman instead of just opening her front door. “C’mon in,” she murmured, tugging him gently over the threshold. “Warning—Dad is being all paternal.”

  Derek chuckled before sliding his arm around her shoulders and pressing her into himself for a moment. She closed her eyes and inhaled, long and deep, of heated sandalwood and something reassuring in all of his unique, masculine scent. She could feel him take a deep breath at the same time and she smiled. They were so in sync, at times. He sighed; his breath soft on her head when he asked, “I can be all, what, boyfriend-y?”

  “That’ll be good. Micah’s here, too, to run interference. And he wants to make sure Bethany’s invited to the dinner party.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll make it happen.”

  The walk through the large, airy foyer and into the warmer living room, with
its old brick accents and enormous fireplace, soothed her overexcited heart. Just pacing with her arm around his waist, walking as a couple, was enough. They’d only done so on maybe two occasions in the time they’d been dating, because she’d been gone so much, but still . . . the fit was perfect.

  “Derek! Bambi!”

  Mac growled and pointed her finger at her twin. “Ugh! Stop it already! I will find something equally humiliating to call you in front of Beth if you don’t stop.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’ll help,” Derek said, grinning at Micah.

  That shut Micah up and Mac could not stop herself from rolling up on her toes to kiss Derek’s cheek. “Thank you.” Then, she turned to her parents. “Mom, Dad. Derek Blakemore. You met at Andy’s wedding, right?”

  Her mother stepped forward, a shrewd light in her eyes, hand outstretched. “Of course. Andrew’s best man. Good to see you again.” Derek released Mac and shook hands with her mother and then with her father, who stepped up immediately. Micah just watched, eyes brimming with laughter, during the whole Formal Introduction Ritual.

  He could be such a twit.

  Mac claimed Derek’s hand after he’d finished the Ritual. Her father, though, wasn’t quite done with ticking off every single box. Never mind that she had lived on her own for years. Never mind that she was an adult in her mid-twenties. Dad refused to smile as he asked, “And where are you heading to, today?”

  “Dad!”

  “No, it’s fine,” Derek said, meeting her eyes with a smile in his own. “Well, sir, I had planned on taking her to The Place. You’re familiar with it, I understand?”

  “You know, The Place is one of our more down-to-earth charities,” her mother remarked in the tone of voice she had used when Mac had been a little girl being instructed on proper manners. “As soon as Andrew mentioned it to us, years ago, we decided it was a good organization to support.”

  It was a bit overwhelming, but also heartwarming in a strange sort of way. Mac smiled a bit and nodded. “I’m so glad,” she managed to say.

  Eventually, the rituals devolved to the “Come back soon” part of the meeting and Mac was happy to get her man out of the house. He held her hand as they stepped down to the driveway, but he was watching her the whole time.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as they reached his car. He pulled her up against himself and frowned a little while tracing her jaw with his forefinger. “You’ve seemed, I don’t know, like you’re not sure you’re walking straight or something.”

  She sighed and stared into his eyes. “You’re good.” Wrapping both her arms around his torso, she leaned into the strength of his arms at her back. “It’s just been a weird day, I guess.”

  “Good weird or bad weird?” He was smiling, but his eyes were intent, seeking.

  She didn’t mind a bit of show and tell, she supposed. “Good weird? I think? But also bad weird because I feel, I don’t know, like I’ve missed a lot over the years.”

  His focus never wavered from her face. “Like what?”

  “It’s going to sound stupid, maybe, but like knowing my parents love each other.” His arms stiffened briefly but he didn’t turn her loose. When he relaxed again, she continued, still watching all the minutiae of his facial expressions. “And I didn’t know that they had been contributing to The Place for years. Micah takes his bookkeeping seriously.” She took a breath, wondering if she should explain why all of that was hitting her so significantly, but he interrupted.

  “It doesn’t sound stupid. From what you’ve said, you haven’t been home with them very much since you, what, hit puberty?” His smile was crooked and maybe a bit apologetic, but she only nodded before he continued, gathering her close and speaking into her hair. “I see a lot of families, you know.” She nodded. “I look for the love in them. Because if that love is there, they can overcome anything, really. I’ve seen it. They might need to crash at The Place for a while because life’s thrown them a hard curve ball, but they’ll come through all right. Someday,” he drawled, drawing out the vowel sounds, “I hope that I’ll see that look in myself. And in someone . . . else.”

  Mac swallowed over a lump in her throat. “Me, too,” she whispered into his chest. She wondered if he’d seen it already. She felt it . . . and she hadn’t really tried to hide it, had she? No . . .

  The longer silence held sway over them, the harder her heart pounded until Derek nudged her head up and settled his lips possessively over hers, as if to add a layer of meaning to the conversation without adding too much.

  She sighed into the kiss, willing it to last under the warmth of the late May afternoon, loving the way Derek enveloped her, as if he’d bring her right into himself. Then, he dragged his mouth from hers, his lips making a path to her temple before he tilted his head up and back. She knew, right then, that he was the harmony to her melody. Or maybe she was his?

  She hoped so.

  He smiled, his expression a mixture of wariness and hope. “What’re you thinking?”

  She had to laugh. “About making beautiful music together.”

  “I promised!”

  “You totally did!”

  And just like that, the weight of the moment melted, and Mac felt a bit thankful that it had; she’d had a lot of shocking revelations that afternoon and needed time to process.

  “Anyone else making beautiful music? You know, in the group?”

  Startled, Mac grinned at him. “Well, Cinnamon and Silas are hitting the Nashville Sounds games as often as they can. They’ll probably catch today’s. They’re big fans. Katie Lyn and her family will be having some good ‘at home’ time, I think.” She angled a brow at him, and he nodded.

  “Sounds like a good idea to me!”

  “C.C. and Dalton—I think they’ve got something family-oriented, too. C.C.’s family is big on getting together and she doesn’t see her grandmother nearly as often a she’d like. And then, Rissa and Jake will probably be at The Turquoise Horse, giving Val and Jack a night off. And honestly, I’m not sure what Taylor has happening. Eddie’s on tour and we’re pretty booked here.” She nuzzled at his collarbone. “Why the interest? What kind of plans did you want me to have?”

  “Wanna go see The Place? We’re having a movie night, family friendly and all, for our current guests. We don’t have to stay, but I’ll give you a tour.”

  “Sounds perfect.” The Outlaws would be doing a benefit performance for The Place later that year, after all, and it behooved her to check it out in person, right?

  On the drive into Nashville, Derek gave her all the information about the shelter. When it had been opened, who was on the Board of Directors, how they had developed the building itself, programming for financial planning, and employment assistance. “We believe that most folks want to be independent, to make it on their own. A lot of our guests have jobs, but they lost their home for one reason or another. Or they need a bit of a boost to have enough to get into a new place. Some of them need daycare so they can work, and we have a facility for that, too. Licensed and everything.”

  “And you manage this while working at Blakemore?”

  He glanced over at her at a red light. “Well, actually, most of the work I’ve been doing lately has been overseeing properties we’re considering for investment opportunities. Dad doesn’t like to travel so much, these days, so I do a lot of it.”

  “That sounds familiar.”

  He grinned just as the light turned green. “I saw you for the first time while on a business trip, remember? I told you that first day at your place.”

  Pressing her head back into the headrest, she tried to remember and then she did. “Red Rock concert, right.”

  “Yep.” She caught him wiggling his eyebrows suggestively when he added, “Loved your boots then, love ‘em now.”

  “And here I am, wearing sandals.”

  He smoothed his hand over her bare knee. “No complaints, I promise.”

  “None from me, either!”


  He squeezed her knee briefly. “Also, I really like the skirt.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  * * *

  The Place itself was very ordinary from the outside. “Looks kind of like a church,” Mac remarked as they drove up to the asphalt parking lot.

  “Well, it used to be a church building, you know.” She let him come around and help her out of the car, as he’d shown a willingness and inclination to do so, and he continued to tell her about The Place as they strolled toward the shaded entry. “It’s solid, has an institutional kitchen, lots of rooms so we can keep families together, plenty of hygienic facilities—”

  “Bathrooms?”

  He laughed softly. “Yeah, but the kids sometimes like to say the ladies’ or men’s rooms. They get self-conscious.” His brow furrowed thoughtfully. “It’s a good thing that they do, you know. Means they aren’t desperate yet. And that’s important.”

  Inside, the atmosphere was as calm and domestic as she expected a place like this could be. But all the surfaces, from the linoleum floors to the flat white ceilings, were very clean. No dust even in the light fixtures. “You must have a great custodial staff,” she said.

  “We try.” He paused and smiled. “You can hear some kids, down the hall there.”

  “Yes? And?”

  “C’mon. They’re pretty cool.”

  Encouraging quotations were painted with lovely lettering along the off-white walls. Exhortations to good cheer, to hope, to dedication and confidence. As Mac and Derek neared the end of the hall, the sounds of a Disney movie poured out open steel doors, and a familiar song reached her ears. Along with the cheerfully raucous voices of little girls singing with their favorite Disney princess.

  Mac made a face, privately, to Derek before they joined the children and any family that were also watching the movie. “I have never seen this one.”

  He appeared surprised. “No? I thought every girl in America saw it.”

  “I was twenty when it was released,” she retorted. “I preferred the Harry Potter movies.” His laughter was silent, but all the more emphatic as she added, “I had a huge crush on the Bill Weasley character, remember.”