by Grea Warner
“Like Garrett.” I felt even more sentimental.
“Well ...” He touched my hand, surely sensing I needed an emotional break. “I was going to say the Audi.”
“The Audi?” My voice went up an octave on the mention of his car that I drove.
“Yeah, it’s been in both of our names the whole time.” He smirked that damn sexy smile of his and then resorted to his real answer. “Yes, like your brother.”
“I can’t believe you with the car.” I rolled my eyes and let it pass. “But, Ry, the kids? Of course I would be honored. They should have a say in it, though.”
“See, just thinking that way ...” He shook his head and bit his upper lip, fighting off his emotions. “You always do that—me going to Iowa, the summer reading group—you think of them. That is why they love you ... and your hugs.” He smiled warmly, surely recalling my scene with Joel that morning. “So, are you good with it ... all of it? The move? Both of us on the show?”
“I always wanted to live in Nashville but kind of landed here.”
“Thank goodness you did.”
The sweet look in his eyes and his upward curved mouth told me he felt exactly the same way I did. How different and lonely my life would have been had I not ended up in California. Neither of us would have ever known such love.
“Yeah,” I agreed softly. “So, absolutely, I would move. But, what about you? Is this really what you want? I love you, Ryan.” I actually got to say those words and proved their meaning by putting him first. “But I don’t want you to make this huge decision because of me or because we were arguing.”
“Listen here, Lenay. As much as I would do anything for you—and I would.” Every smile of his seemed more and more relaxed. “This is about all of us. And I’m not taking it lightly. I devoted the whole day thinking everything through.” There was detailed-oriented Ryan. He always claimed I had the structured, firstborn, Type-A personality, but he had his act most definitely together. “I told you I talked with Joel and Sallie’s counselor. She is going to set us up with a colleague and some resources in Nashville. And just now, I talked with the kids. I stopped at the park on the way back and told them what might be happening. Of course, they had questions, but they’re ready for a new adventure.”
“That’s why you were a little late ... and in the garage.” I put it together.
“Joel couldn’t stop talking about it, and I wanted to be the one to tell you. Because, honestly, I am equally as excited ... more every minute. It wasn’t something I ever thought about but, weirdly, is exactly what I want.”
“I know that feeling.” I reflected once again on our life goals conversation more than a year before. “Like sitting on a sofa with a divorcee and two kids.”
His warm smile told me he knew exactly what I was referring to. He squeezed my hand before throwing me a little tease. “So, Joel, Sallie, and I are moving, and we would really like you to come with us. Are you on board?” As if on cue, his words were bracketed by the sound of Sallie, Joel, and Lyric’s feet running up the steps. “And, if so, same team or game on, wifey?”
“First of all, let me say this. I wasn’t going without you.” I defined each word so my truth was cemented in his brain and heart. “I knew that this morning and ... really? I knew it all along. I told you, I would not bail. I meant that.”
Ryan and I were not Willow and Til. We wanted the same things out of life—both in the present and in the future. We had discussed that very early on in our relationship, and it hadn’t changed. Ryan had said it wouldn’t work, otherwise. And he was one hundred percent right.
“And you know the reason for that?” I continued, citing one of his fears. “It’s because the only thing that could possibly change me is not being with you. I would hate it, and I would hate me, and—”
“Can I admit something to you?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it happen. I’ve seen people change.” He didn’t need to say her name—we both knew. “But I realized it was me, too. I had become a different person. Being with you has helped me find my way back. I love you so very much, Lenay.”
I felt the wave of burning tears trying to make their way to the shore of my brown eyes again, but at least that time it was due to relief and love ... most of all love. “I love you, too.” I wiped at a tear—it was his. “And I most definitely want us to be on the same team.” Ryan and I made the perfect team in so many ways, and writing music was the initial one. I couldn’t imagine trying to compete against him. I wouldn’t want to. I wanted to be that couple again in the living room, learning from and making each other better.
He smiled and then made me do the same. “My thoughts exactly. Just as long as that team doesn’t involve baseball.” He poked his pointer finger into my side.
“Hmmm ...” I sassed back. “Then I might have some negotiation points.”
“Oh, boy.” He shook his head. “Of course you do. Do I have to put on my manager hat, Miss Negotiator Extraordinaire?”
“I hope not.”
“Okay.” His soft sigh was, I’m sure, because the day had been emotionally exhausting but also out of jest since he could trust me, my easygoing tone, and what I would “demand.” “Lay them on me.”
“One ...”
“How many are there?” he interrupted.
“I’m not sure.” I scrunched my nose up. “Is there a limit?”
“I do charge overtime.”
“No, you don’t. Fine. Fine. I’ll make sure to pay you for your services.” With that comment, I gave a wink. “One,” I started again and leaned over to peck a sweet kiss on his lips. “I get a say in picking the new house.”
“Easy. Done. Absolutely. I want you to know ... all those factors in making this decision? One was getting our own completely fresh start—where the memories and the imprints—”
I know he chose that word deliberately because of our talk about Kari and counter space. And I appreciated it. Even though the house was spectacular, I had been living with Kari’s ghost ... even before she died, and that wasn’t healthy for anyone involved.
“Everything is just ours,” he continued. “That means a lot to me, and I know it does to you, too. Plus, your singing architect input will be much appreciated.” Ryan mixed sentiment with humor while recalling my fleeting career aspiration when I was much younger.
“Thank you.” I met his lips with mine again. “Two. You let me make you some fresh guac since I may have been a little upset earlier and threw your dinner away.”
“Rock and rolly!”
I had to stop laughing at his reaction before continuing. “And finally—three.” I kissed him again and said, “We never stop fighting”—I paused for the slightest of seconds to emphasize my sincere look into his eyes—“for each other.”
It was his turn to kiss me, and it was long and sweet and so needed. “After asking you to marry me, this sounds like the best deal I’ve ever brokered.”
“For real,” I recited in the comfort of his arms.
“I guess we’re heading to Nashville.”
I knew he didn’t mean the form of the word “head” in reference to our coin, but it made me think of it. So, I confirmed. “Yep, heads it is. Tails must have been California.”
SneAK PEEK AT WHISKEY GIRL
Ella’s story
Coming 2022
I ran my hand along the smooth, cool, silver metal. It was the ideal size to fit inside my pocket. When we purchased the dress, neither my sister nor I had chosen it with that in mind. And my mother most certainly had not. But, oh, it worked out so perfectly.
The boisterous gathering faded as I left the crisp air of the outdoor venue and officially entered the hotel. I knew my destination. I hadn’t officially scouted it out beforehand, but it had been part of the overall checklist.
I brought up the bottom of my floor-length dress so it would be easier for me to slide onto the only empty bar stool. The place was packed. But the noise level
was tolerable, especially since the hockey game—which seemed to have brought in the majority of the patrons—had just finished. The final score on the television screens and the numerous team-jersey-wearing guests told me that.
Outside, some couples were dancing and others were sipping champagne or wine. I felt like neither. I wanted something fitting of the feelings I was trying to bury—feelings I knew weren’t necessarily warranted but fertilized because of simple jealousy. I felt like having something worthy of the silver treasure I had tucked in my pocket earlier in the day.
“Any chance you can fill this up?” I presented the flask to the bartender, who had dutifully made his way over.
“Sure. What’s it gonna be? What’s your pleasure?”
“To not be here.” When I admitted the truth, I could feel more than see the guy to my immediate left turn in my direction. “But, since that isn’t really an option, I guess I’ll have whiskey.”
The bartender swept his arm out and behind to showcase the variety of choices at my disposal. I liked a good drink, but being a connoisseur of brands and proofs and whatever, I was not. While I knew a good ole standby was Jack, my eyes crossed over another brand, which I knew was perfect for my current, personal theme.
“Black Velvet,” I settled on.
I passed the container over as I glanced at my dress. It wasn’t velvet, but it was black and formal for the occasion. I loved the simple style—a square neckline with an open back and no frilly embellishments except for the sides of the legs which were black lace, sparkled every so often with white pearls.
While I waited for the golden colored beverage to be poured, I thought about how I had only used the flask during my senior year in high school. It had been the cool thing to do—sneak into events and add a little extra something-something to an otherwise legal beverage. In college, underage or not, nothing was hidden. But, somehow, now at age twenty-three, I resorted back to those teen years. A lot of it was because I had only accidently come across the silver beauty when looking through old stuff in the room my sister and I had shared growing up. But another part was because the flask screamed secret and naughty, and I kind of liked that.
“Is that to go?” The bartender broke into my thoughts. “Or are you starting a tab?”
“Put it on the groom’s,” I proclaimed.
“The wedding guests are supposed to h—"
The other thing the dress pocket held was my ID, which I promptly placed on the bar. “Sister of the bride. I was the one who actually organized a lot of this gig.” I knew how the bar system was set up for the wedding guests. With a small guest list and wine and champagne already offered outside, we knew few wedding goers would find their way inside. “Is the last name proof enough?”
“Yep. And the attire. Bridesmaid?”
“The one and only.”
“Enjoy, Ella. I’ll put it on Mr. Thompson’s tab.” He slid my card back and walked toward the other end of the bar.
“You’re her sister.”
I turned more definitively to my left and the man who had spoken those words. He was wearing dark pants and a white button down, which made it obvious he wasn’t one of the casual hockey fans. But I hadn’t seen him at the wedding or the reception. And even though I had been preoccupied with attending to all the little details no one else seemed to care about but drove me crazy, I surely would have noticed that man. I mean, he was drop dead gorgeous...in that loose tie and relaxed, slightly wavy but not overly long hair kind-of-way. Almost like one of those Games of Thrones Stark brothers but with a dirty blond hue instead of dark brown.
“Bethany’s sister?” GOT look-alike man inquired again.
I managed to answer. “Depending on the day ... yes.”
Oh, geez. I didn’t know him. I probably shouldn’t have said that ... at least not with the snarky inflection I had. He could have been one of Bethany’s friends, and I didn’t need it to get back to her or our family. I was pretty much already considered the black sheep of the Opala clan and, if not, why add any drama to the day. Especially because, in reality, I loved my older sister—despite some of our two-sides-of-the-same-coin differences. Sometimes, though, it was hard seeing her get all the breaks I couldn’t seem to—a phenomenal and growing career, financial stability, and a romance that love songs were literally written about.
Luckily, my fellow bar mate chuckled. “Hmmm.”
Feeling a little more secure with my initial response, I ventured with, “So, you’re a part of this wedding hoopla? Who ...? I don’t remember seeing you.”
“Yeah, I missed the actual ceremony with my flight being delayed. Just came in for the reception but didn’t stay long. Thought I could handle it. It’s nice they included me, though.”
I took my first swig from the flask ... mostly as a way to put the pieces together that the obvious out-of-towner had presented me with. He was invited but couldn’t handle it? Everyone besides my family was from out of town. Ryan’s family stretched across the United States, and both he and Bethany had friends in California. I couldn’t connect any definitive dots. And the alcohol was not helping the process. I was beginning to realize champagne on an empty stomach topped off by a swig of Black Velvet was making me a bit tipsy.
“I’m sorry. Who are you?” I just came out and directly asked.
“Maks. Maks Hynes.” He took a swig from his glass, half filled with a slightly lighter liquid.
“Hynes.”
Yeah, that name sort of sounded familiar. But, why? I purposefully tried not to scrunch my face in confusion.
“Hynes,” I repeated. “Maks.” And then it hit me ... sort of like the alcohol was starting to.
See how Bethany and Ryan’s story began ...
How did a sheltered girl from Carolina end up in a national scandal involving one of Hollywood’s most powerful music couples?
When want-a-be singer Bethany Opala tries out for a TV talent show, she is rejected. But then comes an amazing offer ... a songwriter’s dream. Bethany has the opportunity to learn and develop her skills with top music manager, Ryan Thompson.
With a mutual passion for music and words, Bethany and Ryan’s writing partnership develops into something more ... something love songs are written about. And while it isn’t wrong, it isn’t right, at least in the public eye.
Surrounded by secrecy and half-truths, Bethany doesn’t know how much she should put up with. Especially, when one more rejection could scar her for good. Will her decision to leave not only Ryan, but the music business and California, come down to the toss of a coin?
Excerpt:
When I lifted my eyes away from the six-year-old, I found her father propped against the staircase banister as if he had been casually standing there watching our entire interaction. He probably had been. But was it because he was a protective father making absolutely sure who was at the door, despite the guard at the gate announcing my arrival? Or, was he doing it to keep his distance from me?
Our eyes only met for the slimmest of seconds before we both took refuge in looking back at Sallie. Yes, it was a good thing we had a buffer. Just spotting his intense deep blue eyes on me was enough to make my body tighten.
“Daddy, can Bethany watch with us?”
“Let her in,” Ryan said a little more succinctly that time.
As Sallie stepped aside, I more properly entered the residence and shut the door behind me. I normally would have instantly shrugged off my shoes and started walking further into the interior of the home. But my sandals remained fastened as did my stance.
Ryan, who I noticed was barefoot, answered his daughter’s question. “Bethany isn’t here to watch princess movies, Tink.” Her lower lip stretched out in the cutest little pout as Ryan continued, “You better go make sure your brother doesn’t change the show. He’s the slyest four-year-old I know.”
With her eyes seemingly growing wide at Ryan’s suggestion, she belted, “He wouldn’t dare!”
My belly bounced at the little girl�
��s dramatic exit. Ryan actually laughed out loud and shook his head. And then ... there we were. Alone.
“So ... uh, about recording ...”
Despite all the conversation starters I had internally scripted on the ride over, that was what came out. It was not even close to being as melodic or smooth as I had hoped. In fact, it was like a stuttering, old vinyl. Although, I suppose anything was better than the silent tension that had invaded the foyer in the matter of seconds.
“Can we deal with the elephant in the room first?”
“There’s nothing—” I tried to just move past the fictional, ugly, gray mammal who wasn’t only occupying the room but also my brain.
But Ryan denied me. “Bethany, we have to talk about the fact that we kissed.”
Available at all book retailers.
Fall in love with the Country Roads series:
A young woman content with her solitary life.
A rising country music star.
They were friends once ... until their lives took them down separate roads.
Now, years later, when a child volunteers his uncle to sing for a fundraiser, LARA FAULKNER realizes it is none other than her college pal, FINN MURPHY. As the two get a chance to reconnect, Lara reveals to a compassionate Finn details of her shocking past and the traumatic decision she had to make.
Through trust and love, the bond between Finn and Lara deepens as the country singer manages to get an emotionally scarred Lara to let down her self-proclaimed walls. But will secrets, lies, and tragedy cause a bumpy detour on their road to complete happiness?
Grab the whole series!
Available in Ebook and Print at all major book retailers.
