Love in a Small Town Box Set 1

by Tawdra Kandle

  Mason stood up and lifted me into his arms. His lips covered mine, both possessing and giving. Surrendering.

  “Take me home.” I whispered the request against his throat.

  “Darlin,’ those are the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard.” Mason held me closer and carried me into the light of the rising sun.

  THE END

  “THERE’S NOTHING LIKE A beach wedding.” Emmy Carter sighed as she shifted in her wooden slatted chair.

  “And they’ve got the perfect day.” Abby Donavan adjusted the straw hat she wore to protect her pale skin. “I can’t believe how many people are here.”

  “Well, pretty much the whole Cove’s turned out for today, and then you have all the folks who drove down from Georgia. Oh, look, here come the bridesmaids.”

  Four women in lilac dresses of varying styles made their way across the narrow walkway to the tent. The first carried a pretty baby girl dressed in the same shade and held the hand of a little boy in a tuxedo.

  “Lindsay looks wonderful, doesn’t she? And how sweet are those babies? I swear, DJ looks more like Joseph every day.”

  Emmy nodded. “You didn’t know Daniel, but DJ resembles him, too. And Lindsay and Joseph are doing a wonderful job running the Tide.”

  “Who’s the next bridesmaid?” Abby squinted in the sun.

  “Oh, that’s Meghan’s college roommate, Laura. She’s married to a Marine. They flew in from California for the wedding.”

  “She’s lovely. And the other two?”

  Emmy smiled. “Rilla Wallace. She’s one of Meghan’s friends from Burton. Look at how she’s holding her flowers over her stomach. She’s just beginning to show, and I think she’s a little self-conscious about it. See that big guy over on the side of the tent? The one holding the little girl? That’s her husband, Mason. They’re the sweetest couple. The way he looks at her ... it makes me believe in true love again.”

  Abby put her hand to her heart. “Emmy Carter, are you getting soft in your old age?”

  Emmy snorted. “Hardly. And shut up, I’m not old. Just older than you. But thirty-five is not ancient.”

  “I’m just teasing you. Oh, that’s Sam’s sister bringing up the rear, right?”

  “Yes, and her daughter’s with her. Her husband is Sam’s best man. See, here they come.”

  The back door of The Rip Tide opened, and three men emerged. “Wow, they grow ’em sexy up there in Georgia, don’t they? Makes me think I might have to look into relocating.”

  “Don’t you dare. First of all, Jude and Logan need you to run the bed and breakfast. And second, I don’t want to lose my best friend.”

  “You mean your only single friend.” Abby elbowed her. “Don’t worry. I don’t have any plans to move. Oh my gosh, here comes Jude with Joseph. She looks so beautiful.”

  Joseph Hawthorne escorted his mother to her seat before stopping to kiss his baby and his wife, patting his son on the head as he passed. He greeted Sam, Flynn and the minister and joined them to stand in the front.

  The music from the trio in the front changed from the soft classical notes to something decidedly more country.

  “What’s this song?” Abby whispered. “You’re the country music expert.”

  “It’s called It’s Your Love. Tim McGraw and Faith Hill sang it. It’s the perfect wedding song.” Emmy sniffled and touched a tissue to her eyes beneath the sunglasses.

  “Emmy, are you crying?” Abby’s voice sounded a little teary.

  “Of course not. I’m just—I got something in my eye. Oh. Oh, Abby, look. She’s just breathtaking. Have you ever seen such a gorgeous bride?”

  Meghan walked toward the tent, holding tight to Logan’s arm. At the sight, half of the guests dug for tissues or hankies. Although no one spoke his name, there was not a doubt that Daniel Hawthorne was in every Cove heart as his best friend escorted his daughter down the aisle.

  Emmy turned a little. Two rows back, Cooper Davis glanced at her, holding her gaze for a beat before she dropped her eyes.

  Sam Reynolds’ face shone with a transcendent happiness when his bride reached his side, and now it was time for the guests from Burton to wipe away a few tears.

  “If only Joe and Elizabeth could be here to see this day ...” Ellen Nelson squeezed her husband’s hand. “Wouldn’t they be proud of Sam?”

  “They’d be busting their buttons at both their kids.” Fred patted his wife’s shoulder. “They’re here, don’t you doubt it.”

  The minister spoke the opening words of the ceremony, welcoming family and friends to this celebration of love and life.

  When it was time to speak vows, Sam took Meghan’s hands in his. “Meghan, you were the last one I expected to meet. You were the last one I wanted to love. You are my heart, my soul and my life, and I never want to spend another day apart from you. I promise you laughter at the dinner table, evening swims at the river and love every day of your life. You are my last, my first, my only.”

  Meghan smiled through shining eyes. “Sam, you taught me love. You gave me your heart, even when you didn’t want to do it. You’ve given me a life I never dreamed I could have. I promise you art lessons at dawn, dancing whenever I can talk you into it, and love every day of your life. You are my last, my first, my only.”

  Two other couples in the tent sought out each other’s eyes. At the front, Ali smiled at Flynn around the bride and groom. Rilla gazed into the congregation until she found Mason.

  My last, my first, my only.

  Those Crazy Christians Brad Paisley

  On The Verge Collin Raye

  Without You Keith Urban

  Limes Brad Paisley

  Stay Forever Hal Ketchum

  If I Didn’t Have You Thompson Squared

  If You Leave Me Now Suzy Bogguss

  Long, Long Time Mindy McCready

  Me and Jesus Brad Paisley

  I Always Get Lucky With You Suzy Bogguss

  Well, here we are, at the end of The One Trilogy. And what a way to go out.

  When I decided to write Meghan’s story, after The Posse, I had no idea that it would stretch into three books. But the longer I hung around Burton, Georgia, the more at home I felt. I’ve lived in that world for so long now that I could walk you down Central Street, stop in to say hey to Boomer, visit at the hardware store and then maybe swing into Kenny’s Diner for a slice of pie. I can tell you all about The Colonel’s Last Stand, and what the horses on Fred Nelson’s farm look like.

  So leaving that place and those people hurts more than a little. The good news is that we’ll still get pieces of them in the Crystal Cove books. I expect Meghan and Sam will pop down to visit her mom and Logan. It’s even possible Alex and Cal might go check out the beach scene. Who can say?

  First thanks must go to my wonderful readers who have fallen in love with Burton alongside of me. Thank you for loving the people inside my head. You make every bit worthwhile.

  Appreciation to my amazing team: Laura Hidalgo at BookFabulous Design for the gorgeous cover, Brad Olson Photography for the photo, Stacey Blake at Champagne Formats for the beautiful interior, Kelly Baker for being picky and sneaking in Oxford Commas everywhere and Olivia Hardin for beta reading, sanity patrol and rockin’ the rock.

  More gratitude to Jade Eby and Maria Clark, who have begun the process of keeping me organized, on task and productive. Good luck, ladies.

  To my Naughty Temptresses—I seriously <3 you all.

  Of course, my family is my source of inspiration and love always, and big hugs to each and every one.

  A few quick notes: Mason’s mother Naomi is fighting leukemia in this book. I didn’t know the nature of her illness right away, although I knew it was a vague form of cancer. But leukemia is a monster I know too well. I lost my mother to it in 2007, after a stem cell transplant and a brave, well-fought battle. And a friend of mine, Pam, is fighting that war right now, with more grace, dignity and humor than is fair to the rest of the world. I urge you to do tw
o things: first, register with the bone marrow registry http://www.deletebloodcancer.org/). You may have the key to saving a life within your body, and I promise, you won’t regret it. Second: please support The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (https://donate.lls.org). As many of you know, my purple hair is in support of this organization, and they do so much good.

  My last note is about some delicate issues of faith and belief touched on in Rilla’s story. If you read some of it and thought that it would never happen in this day and age ... I promise you, each part of Rilla’s story before Mason happened to different people I knew. I don’t stand in judgment of any person’s beliefs. Our walks are between each of us and God. This was simply part of who Rilla is and why she made choices she did.

  Thank you for spending a season with me in Burton. I’ll see you in Crystal Cove.

  To Kelly, who has been in love with Alex from the start and who has patiently waited for his story.

  “THAT’S A PAIGE BISHOP.”

  I turned, jolted from the staring contest I’d been about to lose with the painting in front of me. The voice that interrupted my reverie was deep, with the same slow Georgia drawl I’d grown up hearing. And the person attached to that voice was tall, hot and hunky, watching me with a measured interest, obviously waiting for me to make an intelligent response to his statement.

  “Huh?”

  Yeah, that was me. King of the witty repartee.

  “The painting. It’s by Paige Bishop. She’s one of our local artists in residence.”

  I nodded as though I knew what the hell that meant. As if I’d been even remotely interested in the beach scene I was looking at. As if I hadn’t just ducked into this gallery because I was early for my appointment at the building next door and it was too damned hot to stand outside.

  “She mostly works in oils and does nature scenes—landscapes, some local wildlife. But she’s begun branching out into watercolor and depicting some of our local historic houses. Those pieces will debut at her show next month.” He paused, and his gaze swept down me. I felt the familiar burn of attraction as his eyes took me in, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Are you local?”

  “I, uh—no. Or, well, sort of. I used to be. Not to Savannah, but nearby.”

  His lip twitched just the slightest bit. “Well, that’s convoluted.”

  I ran a hand over my hair, my go-to gesture when I was particularly nervous. “Yeah. I mean, I grew up in Burton. It’s a little town about forty-five minutes southwest of here. But I went to college in Atlanta, and I stayed there after graduation.”

  He rocked, back on his heels, hands jammed into the pockets of his khakis. “Ah. So what brings you to Savannah?” He smirked, and my heart jumped. Damn, he was sexy. “I’m assuming it wasn’t your passion for art.”

  I couldn’t help laughing, even though he’d totally outed me. “Okay, you got me. I don’t have the faintest idea about oils or watercolor or what the hell the difference is. I’m here for work, and I overestimated how long it was going to take me to walk over from my hotel. I needed to kill fifteen minutes, and it felt good in here. Quiet and cool.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “So any port in a storm?”

  “Pretty much.” I had no shame at this point.

  “Well, damn. At least you could’ve played along a little longer. Let me give you my spiel on our artist-in-residence program and how you can support it.”

  “Sorry about that. But feel free to pretend I didn’t say any of that stuff about art ignorance, and spiel away.”

  He shook his head. “Nah, you’ve ruined it now.” He half pivoted, as though he were going to walk away, and I felt a pang of loss. Not yet, dude. Not before I get your name, at least, and maybe a phone number? Email addy?

  As though he could hear my mental plea, he stopped, glancing at me over his shoulder. “So what do you do, when you’re not impersonating an art aficionado?”

  “Hey, no impersonation here. I came clean right away.” I held up my hands. “I’m a coordinating manager for Scaldar-Whitting. We manage industry events all over the country.”

  “I’ve heard of them.” He kept his voice neutral, so I had no clue whether he’d heard good or bad. It could go either way; working for a huge company like Scalder had both pros and cons. I didn’t want to stay with them forever, but for now, my job paid the bills.

  “Yeah, well, we’re in the running to get the contract on a huge convention that’s going to be held here in Savannah next year. That’s why I’m in town.”

  “Ah.” He nodded, and I wondered if this dude ever expressed an actual opinion on anything. He was so damn non-committal. And because I’m me, the guy who never let anything ride, I decided to push a little.

  “I’m Alex Nelson.” I stuck out my hand, stepping closer to him, clearly intruding on the personal space boundaries.

  To his credit, he didn’t step back. Instead, he stared at my hand so long I wondered if I had something on it. When he finally closed his fingers around mine, something happened. Something I’d never felt before. It was like some weird kind of familiarity, as though I’d held his hand a million times before, but then there was this zing of wild attraction, a jolt of naked desire.

  I didn’t know if he’d felt it, too, but he flexed his fingers, releasing mine and taking one small step backwards.

  “Cal Rhodes.” His jaw tensed.

  “Cal.” I tested it on my tongue. “Short for Calvin?”

  “No.” He sighed. “Calvert. My mother’s family name. She was the only child, and her father was last in the family line, so she gave it to me as my first name. Wasn’t that sweet of her?” The irony in his voice wasn’t quite bitterness, but neither was it out-and-out affection.

  “Moms. What’re you going to do, right?” I shrugged and slid two fingers into the front pocket of my pants. “So, Calvert Rhodes . . .” One side of my mouth lifted up. “Have dinner with me?”

  His forehead furrowed. “Dinner? Oh, I don’t know.”

  Yeah, big surprise there. I hadn’t expected him to say yes. Not right off the bat, anyway. “Don’t you eat?”

  He didn’t blink. “Of course I eat. But I’m just not—I just don’t think—”

  “Look, man. I’m not asking you on a date. I’m not asking for anything but a meal. I haven’t been in Savannah in years, and I don’t have any idea which restaurants are decent. If you don’t take pity on me, I might end up trying some new place and getting food poisoning. You don’t want that on your conscience, do you?”

  One side of his mouth twitched. “I could give you a recommendation.”

  “You could, but I might get lost. Or I might end up at the wrong place. Safer for you to make sure I don’t.” I pulled out the big guns, showing him my dimples. “C’mon. I promise, I don’t bite.”

  With any other prospective date, I might’ve added, Not on the first date, anyway. But I wasn’t going to risk spooking Cal more than he already was.

  “Fine.” He sighed and looked away, his face grim, as though he’d just agreed to a root canal instead of dinner.

  But that was okay. I’d yet to meet the man I couldn’t charm out of his pants.

  “Dean or Sam?” I stabbed a slice of fresh mozzarella and dipped it into the small drizzle of balsamic vinegar.

  “Dean.” Cal nodded. “Used to be Sam, but ever since the hair went long . . . nope.”

  “Agreed. All right, now for the big question. This one’s a deal-breaker, so think carefully.” I slid the cheese into my mouth and chewed slowly, swallowing while Cal watched me expectantly. “Angel or Spike?”

  “Oh, Spike. I mean, that’s a tough one, no doubt, and at one time, it would’ve been Angel, hands down, but by the end, it was definitely Spike.”

  “Tell me why, for bonus points.” I sipped my wine and waited.

  “First of all, they both have souls, but Spike got his voluntarily, at great pain and risk. Angel had his soul forced on him. Also, Spike loved Buffy before he had a soul, while Angel was jus
t bad news whenever his soul went on temporary leave of absence. And last but not least, Spike sacrificed himself for Buffy. Angel left her—yeah, he said it was for her own good, but did anyone really buy that? Spike didn’t. He stayed, even when she treated him like shit, and in the end, he gave up everything to save her. To save the world.”

  I stared, my mouth dropping open a little. Holy crap. “Yeah . . . that’s exactly right. I mean, that’s how I see it, too.”

  Cal’s cheeks went a little red, and he brushed his hair out of his eyes. I’d realized that was his go-to gesture when he was getting nervous. “So now that we’ve established we’re both low-brow enough to watch way too much television, do we move onto plays and movies?”

  I pretended astonishment. “Low brow? Television? No such thing. We’re in the new golden age of television right now, didn’t you know that? At least that’s what Anne Rice says, and who’s going to argue with her?”

  Cal clapped his hand to his heart. “Not this guy. I worship at the vampire shrine to her royal Rice-ness.” He grinned, and I swore my heart tripped. “Besides, have you seen her son? Hot. Totally hot.”

  “Won’t argue with you there.” I leaned back in my wooden chair, tipping it onto the back two legs. “So when did you know you were gay?”

  His eyes flared with a moment of surprise before the smile returned. “Freshman year of college. I met this girl in chem class, and we hit it off pretty well. I asked her out, and we doubled with a couple she knew.” Cal shook his head. “The girl I was with was cute, sure, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off her friend’s boyfriend. I had such a total crush on him that it wasn’t funny. Right about then, a lot of pieces began to fall into place, and I finally owned up to who I’d been all along.”

  I let my chair drop back to the floor. “Did you make a move on the guy?”