by Kristi Gold
When Brett stepped back, Cammie’s hand immediately went to her chest where she felt the rapid-fire beat of her heart. The moments were so surreal, she felt as if she might be having an out-of-body experience.
“On your knees, son,” Pat yelled, sending her out of her momentary stupor.
“Hold your horses, I’m getting to that.” As Brett knelt on one knee and opened the box to reveal an unbelievable diamond ring, the crowd went wild and Cammie started to cry. “Camille Carson, will you do me the honor of marrying probably the most flawed man you’ve ever met? But flaws and all, I love you more than all the fame and the awards and this insane career.”
She could never have imagined this beautiful gesture would come from the love of her life, who now wore his heart on his sleeve and in his incredible blue eyes. However, that didn’t mean she was beyond drawing out the suspense. “Do you promise I don’t have to sing if I don’t want to?”
“Yeah, if you’ll promise to help me write my songs.”
“Agreed. Babies?”
He gave her a winning grin. “You bet. Five or six.”
“I’ll settle for two or three.”
After someone yelled, “Hurry up,” they both laughed.
“Baby, you heard the man. Give me your answer before my knees permanently lock up. And it better be yes. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to show my face again in Nashville, much less the rest of the good old U.S. of A.”
Deciding to put him out of his misery, Cammie held out a hand to him that he took without hesitation. She considered the only word that came to mind. The only word that mattered at the moment. “Yes.”
Brett leaned over to the microphone. “Hell, yeah, she said yes.”
Cammie was sure the thunderous outcry from the crowd was sufficient enough to wake every dog in the county. The kiss Brett gave her was hot enough to set the stage on fire.
When Bull hollered, “You forgot the ring, Brett!” they finally parted.
As he pulled the ring from the holder and pocketed the box, Cammie held out her left hand for him to slip the emerald-cut diamond on her finger. Once that important act was done, he went back to the microphone. “The show’s over, folks, but the champagne’s on the house.”
Just one more reason for the fans to get whipped into a frenzy, and an expensive reason at that. But Cammie only cared about finding out where Brett was leading her at the moment. They stopped behind the stage where Lacey and his mother were waiting, both looking tremendously pleased.
Brett tugged her forward and rested his palms on her shoulders for the official presentation. “Lacey, this is Cammie.”
“It’s great to meet you, Lacey,” she said. “And thanks for assisting your dad.”
Taking Cammie by surprise, the girl gave her a hug. “Nice to meet you, too.” When she stepped away, she rocked back and forth on her heels as if she had a live wire attached to her purple flip-flops. “That was pretty cool, huh? I can’t wait to tell my friends about it back home. Can I be in the wedding? We could wear purple dresses. Oh, and I love my room at Daddy’s house—”
“Simmer down, motormouth.” A woman stepped forward, her eyes the same color as Brett’s, a shock of white running through one side of her black hair. “I’m Linda, Cammie, Brett’s mother, and please excuse my son’s and granddaughter’s lack of manners.”
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, too.”
Linda took Cammie’s offered hand and pulled her into a tight embrace. “We’re huggers,” she said after she released her. “And welcome to the family.”
She truly felt welcome. “Thank you.”
“And while we’re at it, let me say a few words regarding my son—”
“Careful, Mother.”
Cammie glanced back to see Brett’s scowl before she gave her full attention to Linda. “Please. I’m all ears.”
“Make him put up his own laundry because that’s what he’s been taught to do. If he pouts, just ignore him because he’ll eventually come around. He’s really ticklish right around the ribs, so that’s a good weapon. And if he gives you any crap, call me and I’ll give him what-for.”
Cammie laughed. “Thanks so much for the info.”
“You forgot the part about me burping the alphabet when I was in junior high,” Brett said, a hint of annoyance in his tone.
Linda reached up and patted his cheek. “I’m sure I’ll fill in the blanks for Cammie when you bring her home to meet the relatives.”
“That’s our cue to leave,” Brett said. “Otherwise, she’ll start listing them, including the cousins three times removed.”
“Can Cammie ride back to the house with us on the bus?” Lacey asked.
“Actually,” Cammie began, “I have to head home because I’m in the company truck.”
“It’s late so you should come back to the house,” Brett said. “Besides, I plan to go back with you to Memphis in the morning to officially ask your granddad for your hand.”
Cammie hoped Jed had put the shotgun away. “I’m sure he’d appreciate that.” And she’d like nothing better than to spend the night with Brett, but with an impressionable preteen in the house, not to mention a future mother-in-law, the sleeping arrangements could get complicated. “I suppose I could sleep on the sofa in the great room and head back in the morning.”
“Nonsense,” Linda said. “I’ll sleep with Lacey and you can have the other guest room closest to the master bedroom. Of course, it doesn’t actually have a bed, but I imagine the two of you can figure something out.” She topped off the comment with a wink, flooding Cammie’s face with heat.
Rusty, Bull, Pat and Jeremy, who’d been waiting nearby, came up and offered their congratulations where they joined together in a group hug.
“I just have one question for the two of you,” Rusty said.
Cammie worried over what that might be. “Ask away.”
“Who’s going to call Bud and tell him?”
Brett laughed and slipped his arms around Cammie’s waist. “I think we’ll just wait and let him find out when he rejoins us on the next tour.”
“Or sees it in some magazine,” Cammie said. “I’ll call him after I call my grandparents.” She might as well get the fireworks over with all at once.
After Brett sent Linda and Lacey back to the house on the bus, he led Cammie to a secluded spot behind the tent while they waited for the last of the fans to disperse.
“That was quite a proposal, Brett Taylor,” she said. “And I love you for it.”
He gently touched her face. “I love you better. Not better than you love me. Just better than I ever thought I could.”
If she’d had any doubts about that, they’d all been dispelled. “You know, that sounds like a song.”
“You’re right, and we can write it together. Just so you know, I’m going to kiss you and seal the deal.”
And he did kiss her, softly at first, then a little deeper until Cammie began to feel weak in the knees and worried someone might see them.
“You two need to get a room, or at least go in the woods.”
Somewhat embarrassed, Cammie broke the kiss and looked to her right to see Pat standing nearby. “I thought you’d already left.”
He approached them, hat in hand. “Not without saying an official goodbye, and not before I tell the two of you a few things.”
Brett groaned. “I don’t think I can handle any more advice tonight.”
“Too bad, because you’re going to get it.�
�� Pat’s expression turned somber. “Don’t ever forget the way you’re lookin’ at each other tonight, and when you fight, remember that makin’ up is truly the best part. Most important, real love doesn’t come along often, so don’t go squandering it like I did.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Now I’m heading home to my lady and, if I’m lucky, I’ll get some of what you two have been gettin’ only I’ll make sure we’re not putting on a show out in the open.”
“One more thing,” Brett said. “I want you to be the best man.”
Pat sent him a cynical look. “I am the best man so I expect nothing less. But, son, you’re well on your way, too. That means I did something right when I raised you.” With that, he turned around and laughed as he walked away.
Brett faced Cammie again and studied her eyes. “You know, four months ago if you’d told me this day would come, I would’ve said you’re crazy. But then, a lot of people are going to call us crazy for getting engaged after such a short time.”
She kissed him softly and smiled. “Did Pat tell you the story about his grandparents?”
“Not that I recall.”
“Then I’ll tell it to you on the way home. And by the way, someday I will get you back for that whole video-screen proposal....”
As they walked, arms around waists, toward the truck, Cammie agreed they were definitely crazy. Crazy in love. Still, she had no illusions about their future. She expected their life to be filled with as many peaks and valleys as a Smoky Mountain road, along with an abiding love and a passion that knew no bounds. She did have high hopes of how it would end—making beautiful music together for at least sixty-five years.
EPILOGUE
BRETT TAYLOR STOOD at the open door, remaining partially concealed while mentally plotting his course from the tour bus to the rear entrance of the coliseum. As usual, it was near to impossible to sneak past a crowd during a stock show, particularly when parked in wide-open spaces in broad daylight—in the same place where it had all begun two years ago.
After he slipped the new photo into his pocket, he descended the stairs and stepped out onto the lot where the shouting and shoving commenced, sending his security team into action, their beefy arms attempting to hold the crowd at bay.
Fans were good, though. Fans helped pay for college funds and dance lessons and, someday, diapers. But these fans would have to wait until after the show. He was already late and impatient to get to the stage to see his lady for the first time in two weeks.
Brett strode into the back entrance of the arena, past the catch pens and the same cowboys seated on the rails. This time he didn’t have the urge to borrow a horse and ride away like an Old West hero. And he still wasn’t a hero, except maybe to his little girl, who wasn’t so little anymore.
The guards pushed open the heavy metal door, led him down a corridor and then up the stairs to the backstage jungle. After he took his guitar from the roadie, he scanned the area in an attempt to locate the woman behind his reason for hurrying.
He finally spotted her standing near the curtain, wearing her hair piled into a ponytail and a T-shirt that read I Know Joe—the same words that had been painted beneath the Just Married sign plastered to the rear of the bus some eighteen months ago. She still looked as beautiful as she had the day they’d exchanged vows with a song.
After fitting the guitar strap over his shoulder, he bypassed the outskirts of the stage. He no longer needed to see the eager faces to prepare for a performance, only Cammie’s face. He didn’t have to draw energy from the spirited roar or the passionate applause because he had the love of a good woman to sustain him. He still knew all his songs by heart, but better still, he now knew his own heart. And he’d learned to accept life’s crazy turns and unexpected changes, because sometimes changes were good. Damn good.
Without regard to the backstage chaos, he walked right up to Cammie and laid a long kiss on her. Once he was done—for now—he stepped back and frowned. “Are you going to wear that onstage?”
She grinned, pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it behind her, revealing a sleeveless shiny purple blouse. “Lacey picked it out.”
He let go a tuneless whistle. “Yeah, I like it.”
Cammie took his hand into hers. “Are you ready?”
“Question is, are you? That flu hung on a long time.”
“I promise I’m fine, and I’m more than ready.”
As the lights went down, darkening the stage, Brett led Cammie to the microphone and waited to be announced.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a big Houston welcome to two-time Performer of the Year and multiplatinum country-music superstar Brett Taylor, performing his brand-new number-one hit, ‘Better Than I Ever Thought I Could,’ with his wife and cowriter, Camille Carson-Taylor!”
Brett waited for the shouts to subside, the applause to die down and for the band to start playing, but none of that happened. In fact, the applause just got louder.
He looked at Cammie to find she was giving him an ear-to-ear grin. “What’s going on?”
She stepped behind him, took him by the shoulders and turned him around. “Look up.”
He did as she asked and had to blink twice to make sure he’d correctly read the words spread across the video screen.
We’re Going to Have a Baby.
After the initial shock wore off, he turned back to Cammie. “Seriously?”
She nodded. “I told you I’d get you back, didn’t I?”
He kissed her then, not caring if the whole world witnessed how much he loved his wife. After he let her go to sing the song that summed up their relationship, he counted down the beat as he counted his blessings. All the accolades, sold-out crowds and numerous hits couldn’t compare to the gifts she’d given him.
Thanks to one former feisty bus driver, with the face of an angel and a voice to match, Brett Taylor—the better man—had finally arrived.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from The Spirit of Christmas by Liz Talley!
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CHAPTER ONE
MARY PAIGE GENTRY stepped into an icy puddle of water as she exited the taxi with not only one high-heeled shoe, but both of them.
“Darn, darn, darn!” she said, trying to turn back to the driver without stepping into the cold water again. The cabbie raised bushy eyebrows and she tossed him a glare. “I assume you didn’t see that puddle when you pulled up?”
He shrugged.
“Yeah, right,” Mary Paige muttered, blowing out a breath that ruffled her bangs. “Just wait for me, okay?”
She didn’t hang around for his response because, after the day she’d had, something had to go in her favor. She slammed the door and leaped to the curb, managing to clear the puddle she’d previously waded through. Having
the cab wait for her would cost a small fortune, but she was way late to her uncle’s infamous Christmas kickoff bash, thanks to her boss, Ivan the Terrible.
The frigid water seeped into the toes of her shoes as she walked toward the iron-barred glass door of the convenience store anchoring a corner in Fat City. Stupid, stupid! If she hadn’t let vanity rule, she’d be plodding around in her cute fleur-de-lis rubber boots with warm tootsies. But because the strappy high-heel, pseudo–Mary Janes had called her name that morning, she would risk frostbite for the remainder of the evening.
Flashing neon signs hung garishly on the front of the store, bright cousins to the various cigarette ads, and from somewhere to her left, music bled onto the street. The door to the convenience store swooshed open, and she moved aside to avoid a woman who burst out, clutching a paper bag containing a fifth of something potent. Her elbow caught Mary Paige’s arm, but the woman didn’t even acknowledge the offense. She merely growled something about skinny blonde bitches and waddled down the block.
“Really?” Mary Paige called after her, even as part of her relished the backhanded compliment since she’d spent the past two months doing Zumba and eating foam chips in an effort to fit into a size eight again. As she reached for the closing door handle, she heard a low moan to her right. Her hand paused in midair, hovering above the cold metal.
Pulling her jacket closer to her chin and nuzzling into the cashmere scarf her ex-boyfriend had given her last Christmas, Mary Paige peered into the darkness beyond the blinking lights lining the eaves. At first, she saw nothing in the shadows, but then spied movement.
She stepped toward the noise, her feet squishing in her wet shoes, her teeth starting to chatter. The light plink of sleet on her shoulders made her wonder if she was somewhere other than New Orleans. They rarely saw anything frozen—except daiquiris—so it had been quite the sensation when they’d gotten a blast of winter the day after Thanksgiving.
