by Rachel Lacey
“Easier said than done.”
“Tell me about it. But right now, I’ve got to open the shop, with or without butterscotch minis.” She stood and walked to the oven, where the scorched cookies sat cooling. She tipped the tray and dumped them all into the trash.
“You’ve got plenty of other things to offer,” her grandmother said with a wink as she headed into the store to flip the sign from CLOSED to OPEN.
Carly stood behind the counter, arranging this morning’s batch of cinnamon buns.
“You’ve got folks lined up this morning waiting for you to open,” her grandmother said from the front door. “Well, one folk anyway, and oh my, he’s a looker.”
“What?” Carly’s breath caught in her chest. It couldn’t be…
Her grandmother unlocked the front door and pulled it open, smiling up at the man in the doorway, a man that made Carly’s heart somersault in her chest. He didn’t wear a baseball cap pulled low this morning. Nope, he stood there in his leather jacket and jeans, famous smile on display for anyone who might come inside.
“Sam? What are you doing here?” Because they’d agreed…
But dammit, she was so happy to see him. It was like she’d taken her first full, deep breath since she’d walked out his front door a week ago. Oh, she’d missed him so much, but why wasn’t he in LA?
“Good mornin’,” he said, turning his blinding smile on her grandmother. “Sam Weiss.”
“You the one that’s got my granddaughter burning all her cookies this week?” Marlene asked.
Sam chuckled. “I sure hope so.”
“Well, then it sounds like you two have some catching up to do. I’ll just be over here with my morning coffee.” Her grandmother retreated to the table in the corner where she often sat.
Sam walked to the counter and stood facing her, his blue eyes even more dazzling than she’d remembered. Her whole body flooded with warmth.
“Funny thing,” he said, tipping his head to the side. “I wrote five songs while you were at my house, and not a single one since.”
She pressed her fingers against the countertop. “What about your duet?”
“Recorded it day before yesterday.”
So he had gone back to LA. Uncertainty swam in her stomach. “Then why are you here?”
“Because of you.” He stepped closer, his voice lower, more intimate. Except the whole damn display case was between them. “I didn’t want to be there. Not without you.”
Her chest squeezed, and she couldn’t draw breath. “What?”
“I need you. I miss you. Please come to LA with me, even if it’s just for a few days.”
“But…my shop—”
Sam glanced over his shoulder with a smile. “Maybe your grandmother would be willing to take over the reins for a few days?”
Marlene popped out of her seat, grinning like a fool. “Oh, yes. Take as long as you need.”
Carly scrunched her brow. “But why LA? Why not stay here in Haven for a few days? I don’t see what difference it makes…”
“Because I know we could make it here in Haven. Carly, I’m falling for you. Hell, I think I’ve already fallen.”
“What?” Her knees nearly buckled beneath her. He was falling for her? Was he saying…
He reached across the counter and took her hands in his. “And if I need to move here to make this work, I will. But a part of my life will always be in LA. I want to share that part of myself with you. So what do you say, will you come with me?”
“Say yes, Carly,” her grandmother urged from behind him.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Now you need to go around the counter and kiss her,” Marlene told Sam.
“Yes, ma’am.” He walked to the end of the counter, lifted the gate, and walked into her arms. He pulled her up against him and kissed her until everything that had been out of balance since she’d left his house last week fell back into place.
“God, I missed you,” he whispered against her lips.
“Me, too.” Her arms tightened around him. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“You said we shouldn’t see each other again, and I wanted to respect your wishes, Carly, I really did. But nothing felt right after I left. The whole time I was recording that duet, I was thinking about you, missing you. I was afraid I was being selfish by wanting to see you again because the last thing I want is for you to get hurt. But then I thought…what if it hurts more to just walk away before we give ourselves a chance? I want a chance with you, Carly.”
“I want that, too. More than anything.” She pressed her face against his chest. His heart thumped against her cheek. “We might totally rock together.”
“I know we will, baby. We already do.”
And that sounded like music to her ears.
Epilogue
She would never get used to the noise. Carly looked out the window of their limousine, watching the crowd converge around them. It was thick with women, all screaming Sam’s name at the top of their lungs.
“You ready?” he asked, reaching over to squeeze her hand.
She nodded.
He pushed open the back door of the limo and stood, his hand still locked on hers. She scooted across the seat and stood behind him, momentarily dazzled by all the commotion. Cameras flashed, cell phones were thrust in their faces, and the screaming intensified. Two big guys with security badges cleared a path for them through the crowd.
Sam gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then released it to greet his fans as they slowly made their way toward the back entrance of the Avalon Hollywood, where he was hosting a release party tonight for his new album, Hot as Ice.
She watched as he shook hands, signed autographs, and posed for selfies with the throng of fans gathered outside the theater. She’d seen him in action a few times already, but tonight was the biggest event they had attended together, and wow, this was really part of her life now.
Sam signed a final autograph, then turned with a warm smile to take her hand. “Ready?”
She nodded and followed him inside. They were whisked upstairs to a room bursting with people. Carly spotted a few familiar faces—Sam’s publicist, his manager, his parents. She saw a few other famous faces she recognized, too, including Tina Torrey. The place was packed with enough star power to set her head spinning.
Sam’s new album was playing over the sound system—songs she’d first heard those days they’d been iced in together at his house in the mountains, songs she’d heard countless times since as they were polished and recorded for Hot as Ice.
Sam drew her in and kissed her. “You look absolutely stunning tonight.”
“And you look like a rock star.” She grinned against his lips. It was true. In his form-fitting retro tee revealing the tattoos inked down his left arm and casually worn yet ridiculously expensive jeans, he looked every inch the bad boy heartthrob that he was.
“I’m your rock star.” His voice was low, possessive, meant only for her ears.
“And I’m your biggest fan.”
“Just not in a creepy, Kathy Bates in Misery kind of way, right?”
She laughed softly. “Only in the ‘you look so hot tonight I’m going to screw your brains out when we get home from this shindig’ kind of way.”
Sam groaned. “You live to torture me. I don’t know how I ever did any of this stuff without you, you know that, right?”
Yeah, she did, but it still sent a thrill up her spine to hear him say it. He introduced her around the room for the next hour or so, and she did her best to stay cool and calm when she met some of the most famous names in Hollywood.
His manager came over and tapped Sam on the shoulder. “They’re ready for you up onstage.”
Sam nodded. He drew her in for another kiss and whispered in her ear, “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” So much her heart was bursting with it. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, babe. That means a lot.” He gave her
one last kiss then took to the stage as the room erupted with cheers and applause.
Carly’s breath caught in her throat as he lifted his guitar—the same one he’d had in the mountains, the one he’d held in his lap while he wrote these songs with her leaning in across it—and stepped up to the microphone stand.
“Thank you all very much for coming out tonight to celebrate with me,” he said, causing even more whoops and cheers from the crowd. “I’m pumped to share this album with you, and I want you all to know the woman who inspired it is standing right over there.” He pointed at Carly, and her heart almost burst out of her chest. “This one’s for you, babe. Love you.”
He played the opening bars of “Crazy Beautiful,” and Carly felt tears well in her eyes. He’d written this song for her, with her, and it absolutely boggled her mind every time she heard it on the radio. Early buzz on Sam’s new album was that it was a hit. Sales for the first single had been his highest to date, and coming on the heels of the duet with Tina Torrey, which had topped the charts for most of the summer, Sam’s future looked brighter than ever.
She’d gotten used to being with him around Los Angeles. She’d visited him here several times now, and he’d spent a lot of time in Haven, too. He’d bought the house he was renting, the one where they’d been stranded together, and was having a recording studio built inside it.
“Crazy beautiful,” he sang, his eyes locked on hers. “That’s what you are.”
A shiver traveled down her spine as she remembered the night he’d written those lyrics. The way he’d whispered them in her ear as they made love in front of the roaring fireplace.
Crazy beautiful. She couldn’t think of a more perfect way to describe their relationship. The crowd around her roared with excitement as he sang, and Carly’s heart was full, with this, her crazy beautiful life with Sam.
Look for the next story in Rachel Lacey’s Risking It All series:
Run to You.
A preview follows.
Chapter One
Ethan Hunter braced his feet against the edge of the wooden platform, glanced down at the ground some forty feet below, and pushed off. With a yank from the harness, he was flying. The wind whistling in his ears, combined with the scream of the hand trolley over steel cable, silenced his thoughts for the first time all morning.
He let out a whoop, an adrenaline-fueled war cry, as he soared between trees and over a small ravine. The zip-line carried him about eight hundred feet, ending on a wooden platform similar to the one he’d kicked off from minutes earlier.
Here he unclipped from the line, unfastened his harness, and took off his helmet to check the Go-Pro camera he’d attached. He thumbed through its menu, searching for the video he’d just recorded. It wasn’t there.
He swore under his breath. Somehow he hadn’t recorded a single moment of his trip down the zip-line. And he had to get this video sent off tonight to the college student he’d hired to design the website. He’d have to hike back and take the whole course again. His empty stomach grumbled in protest.
Ignoring it, Ethan climbed down the ladder and headed for the trail that would take him back to the top. This was the end of the line, the fifth and last leg of the series of zip-lines he’d built, taking him from the main building deep into the forest behind. For now, the zip-lines were his, a place for him and his buddies to get their thrills without putting anyone’s lives at risk.
But soon, when Off-the-Grid Adventures opened, this would be the start of a business venture that could set him, as well as his friends Mark Dalton and Ryan Blake, on the way to fulfilling a dream. A way to put their dare-deviling ways to good use, cementing themselves as upstanding citizens and making some money while they were at it.
And as of last night, bringing this dream to fruition had taken on a new urgency. His grandmother’s words haunted him like an unwelcome ghost, flitting in and out of his vision and making his chest feel too tight.
“An aneurysm,” she’d told him over supper. “I saw it myself on the scan. Because of the location, it’s inoperable. The doctor said it could stay like that indefinitely, but he thinks chances are high that it will rupture sometime in the next few weeks or months.”
Weeks. Months.
Dixie Hunter was the strongest woman he knew. She’d endured more in her lifetime than anyone ought to, had raised him since he was twelve with a firm hand and a smile on her face, and at seventy years old, she still walked a mile into town each morning to have breakfast at The Sunny Side Up Café because, as she said, she had two perfectly good legs and needed the exercise.
And now he was to believe that a bulging blood vessel in her brain was going to take her life sometime in the next few months?
She’d taken his hand across the table, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I need to see you settled before I go, Ethan. I need to know you’ve got something or someone to keep you out of trouble when I’m not here to nudge you back into line.”
A hawk called overhead, drawing his gaze toward the blue sky peeking through the swaying treetops above. Settled for him would never include a family, but this place would keep him out of trouble. He just needed to make sure Off-the-Grid Adventures opened in time for Gram to see it.
He picked his way across the stream, taking a shortcut back to the start of the course. One more ride on the zip-line, and this time the damned camera had better work. He absolutely could not afford a delay.
Up ahead, a woman sat on a large, flat rock by the stream, her back to him, arms crossed over her knees. Ethan stopped in his tracks. He owned this property, but it bordered the public forest so it wasn’t unheard of to find a hiker wandering through his neck of the woods.
What was unusual was that he didn’t recognize her. The population of Haven, North Carolina, numbered somewhere in the vicinity of seven hundred, and he could say with some confidence that he was acquainted with all the female residents in his age range.
The woman before him had light brown hair hanging almost to her waist in long, loose waves. She wore a white tank top that hugged her slender frame, accentuating the curves at her waist, and a billowy blue skirt that swirled around her ankles. Intriguing. Different. And without seeing her face, he knew he had never seen her before.
“Hi there,” he called out.
She scrambled off her perch with a startled squeak, almost pitching face-first into the creek. With one hand on the rock for balance, she turned to face him.
And hot damn, she was gorgeous. Her eyes were a shade darker than her hair, as wide as they were wary. She looked a little out of place here in the woods dressed like that—he didn’t know any local women who went hiking in a skirt—but most interesting were the black leather boots peeking out from under its folds. Not girly dress-up boots. These looked more like combat boots, and for some reason, paired with the blue skirt, they were smokin’ hot.
“Sorry.” He held his hands out in front of him. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I—well—oh!” She swatted at something near her face. “Ouch!”
He stepped closer. “Something sting you?”
“Yes, it’s okay. I’m not allergic. Ack!” She let out a little shriek, ducking and swatting around her head.
Ethan lunged forward, spotting several yellow jackets buzzing around her head. “You must have disturbed a nest.” He put a hand on her arm and tugged her away from the rock where she’d been sitting.
With another shriek, she jumped, landing flush against him, her face pressed into his shirt. Just as quickly, she pushed past him, leaving behind the faint scent of honeysuckle and the warm impression of her body on his.
Something he’d like to explore…later. He glanced back and spotted the nest she’d accidentally trampled, now easily visible thanks to the swarm of angry wasps flying in and out. “We’ve got to get away from that nest.”
He nudged her ahead of him, swatting at yellow jackets. One of the little fuckers stung his arm, and it hurt like a son of a bitch. He smash
ed it beneath his palm. “You doing okay?” he asked the woman ahead of him. His arm was on fire from one sting, and she’d received several.
“There’s one in my hair. Oh God—” She clawed at her head.
“Let me.” He disentangled her fingers then combed through her hair until he found a yellow jacket busily stinging her scalp. He squashed it. “Got it.”
He inhaled the scent of honeysuckle from her hair, then winced at the angry welt already forming on her scalp.
“My skirt—” She grabbed it in her fists, shaking madly.
They’d gone up her skirt? Oh hell. Ethan wasn’t touching this one with a ten-foot pole. “Ah—”
She stomped and twirled until thankfully a yellow jacket escaped from the folds of her skirt. Ethan ground it into the dirt before it could strike again.
“Please tell me that was the last one.” Her hands flitted anxiously by her face, which had flushed a dark pink. Two red welts had risen on her left cheek, and another was visible on her forehead.
Damn. “I don’t see any more. You said you’re not allergic, right?”
“Yes. I mean, no, I’m not.” She dabbed at one of the welts on her cheek and winced.
“Either you really pissed them off or they like the smell of your shampoo. Let’s keep going to put a little more distance between us and their nest.” He led her along the path by the stream, walking briskly.
“I came from that way.” She pointed in the direction of one of the town’s hiking trails.
“I figured, but you wandered onto my property, so I’ll drive you back to wherever you’re parked.”
“Your property?” She pulled back. “I’m sorry. I—”
He shook his head. “Don’t even worry about it. I think we lost the yellow jackets. Let me have another look at you.”
She stopped short, her pretty face now alarmingly red and splotchy. “Thank you for your help, but I should really go back the way I came.”
“No way I’m letting you out of my sight right now. Hang on. I have an ice pack.” He reached into the pack he wore slung over his right shoulder. “I’m Ethan Hunter, by the way.”
