Sidearms and Songbirds (Hearts of Nashville Book 3)

by Amelia C. Adams

  Sidearms and Songbirds

  Hearts of Nashville Book Three

  by Amelia C. Adams

  With thanks to my beta readers—Amy, Barbara, Cheryl, Dorothy, Joseph, Gail, George, and Mary.

  Cover design by Steven Novak.

  Don’t miss the first two books in the series:

  Whiskey and Women

  Records and Rebels

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Carly Wayne stepped back from the microphone and took off her headphones. “How was that?”

  Tommy Green, her sound engineer and producer, spoke into his microphone in reply. “That was great. I’m pretty sure that’s a wrap.”

  “You mean it? Like, the album is done?”

  Tommy grinned. “We might need to do a little tweaking here and there, but yeah. I think we’re done.”

  Carly stepped out of the booth and flopped onto the couch behind Tommy’s chair. “I can’t believe it. The whole album . . . My album . . .” It just couldn’t be real.

  Tommy swiveled around and looked at her. “Pretty wild, huh?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been dreaming about this since I was twelve years old, and now it’s really happening, and I’m going to get bruises if I keep pinching myself.”

  Tommy laughed. “Better stop the pinching, then.”

  “Probably better.” She sat up straighter. “Thanks so much for everything you’ve done, Tommy. You make me sound so good.”

  He shrugged. “I just work with what I’m given. It wasn’t hard.”

  “Well, I appreciate it.” She glanced at her watch. “Oh, I’d better get going. It’s Sophie’s first day of school, and I don’t want to be late picking her up.”

  “First day, huh? That’s a pretty big deal.”

  “Oh, yes. She woke up at six this morning insisting it was time to go, and then she decided that the outfit she chose wasn’t quite right after all and we spent fifteen minutes trying to choose between pink or yellow socks. I told her it was okay to wear one of each, but she told me she just didn’t think so.” Carly sighed and shook her head. “She’s more fashion conscious at five than I’ve ever been in my whole life.”

  “Maybe she can give you some pointers,” Tommy said with a wink.

  “Okay, okay, yes, I’m a mess. That’s why you people hired me a stylist or whatever. But I’ll learn—I’m soaking it all in.” She stood up and grabbed her tote bag from where she’d tossed it on the floor. “See ya later. Thanks again.”

  “Bye.” Tommy lifted his hand, already swiveling back to the sound board.

  Carly walked down the hallway toward the exit, realizing that she wouldn’t have time to stop by Julia’s office before she left. She’d call her on the way home—Julia would understand that she needed to be there for Sophie.

  “Well, if it isn’t our newest little songbird.”

  Carly stopped and pulled in a deep breath, then turned. BB Baker, the owner of Lotus Leaf Records as of two months ago, was coming up behind her, and she pretended to smile. “Hello, BB. How are you today?”

  “If I were any finer, I’d be frog hair,” he replied. “I just wanted to tell you how excited I am about your new album. Your single is just bustin’ those charts, and I know your album will do the same.”

  “Thank you.” She glanced at her watch. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to be heading out . . .”

  “Oh, I don’t mean to keep you. I did want to talk to you about going on tour, though. Those fans sure do like seeing their favorite singers up close and personal, and we need to be getting you out there as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, Julia said she’d like to meet soon to talk it over.”

  “The sooner the better, as far as I’m concerned. I heard one DJ say you were going to be the hottest ticket in town, and I want to cash in on that. I’m sure you do too.”

  “Oh, absolutely.” She glanced at her watch again. “I’m sorry, BB, but it’s my daughter’s first day of school, and I really need . . .”

  He held up both hands. “Say no more—I understand. You have a good day now, and we’ll talk about it later.”

  “Thanks, BB.” Carly pushed through the doors and trotted across the parking lot, hoping traffic would be light. Once she left Nashville, the road home was nice and peaceful, but she could never predict what would happen between here and there.

  Once she was on the freeway, she dialed Julia and put her phone on speaker. “Hey there. I’m sorry I didn’t stop in—Tommy and I ran a little late, and I have to pick up Sophie. Great news, though—we finished the album.”

  “Tommy’s here now telling me about it,” Julia replied. “I’m so happy for you.”

  Tommy and Julia were recently engaged, and Carly had rarely seen a couple better suited for each other. “Yeah, I’m pretty happy about it too. BB stopped me in the hall on my way out and wants to start talking about going on tour.”

  “We definitely need to do that. Did you have a chance to talk to Sophie’s teachers?”

  “No, not yet. Things have been absolutely crazy.” Carly had decided to pull Sophie from school and tutor her on the bus when she went on tour—no way was she going to leave her five-year-old behind for weeks on end. Sure, Carly’s mother would be delighted to take care of Sophie, but that was just too long to be separated. “And she’s still having nightmares, so I haven’t even brought it up with her.”

  “She is? Poor girl. Well, listen. Let’s talk it over tomorrow, okay? Can you come in?”

  “I should be able to. Eleven?”

  “Eleven’s great. See you then.”

  Carly hung up, then made the turn that would take her out to Cherry Creek. She loved the little community where she and Sophie had settled. It was close enough to Nashville that she could run in to the studio whenever she needed to, but it wasn’t right in the hustle and bustle. Quinn Dawson’s ranch was another dozen miles down the road, and he’d invited Sophie to come out and see his new pony. They hadn’t found the time to go yet, but just having the invitation was nice—Quinn had done so much for Carly’s career, and she knew she’d never be able to repay him for his mentorship.

  She pulled in a long, ragged breath. Her album was done. Soon she’d know if she really had what it took to be a country music star. The idea both thrilled her and terrified her to death.

  ***

  Sam Bolton craned his neck, trying to see why traffic was so clogged up around Cherry Creek Elementary. He could hear horns blaring even though his windows were closed, and as he pulled into the school parking lot, he saw the source of the problem. A car was blocking the drop-off and pick-up lane, trying to go up it instead of down. The driver was an attractive blonde, early thirties. Her car was a blue late-model Honda, some damage to the front bumper, a crack in the right headlight.

  He parked his car, then walked over to see what needed to be done to untangle the mess. Burt Clements, one of the fathers in the school district, stood near her open window, and his voice carried across the asphalt.

  “You’ve got to drive in over there, and then pick up over here,” Burt said, waving his arms emphatically. “You nee
d to understand how the parking lot works.”

  “I know perfectly well how parking lots work. I’ve been parking in them my whole life.” The woman’s voice was tight, and she tucked her hair behind her ear. “If you’d just back up so I can get around you—”

  “I can’t back up. I’ve got eight cars behind me. You’ve got to back up and let the rest of us out.”

  “Oh, so I have to back up because you’re ganging up on me?”

  Burt threw his hands in the air, then turned and saw Sam. “Hey, can you come help me out here?”

  Sam grinned and walked up to the car. He could see her better now, and took a quick mental inventory. He also glanced at her license plates—she was from out of state. That explained a lot right there.

  “Ma’am, are you aware that you’re driving up a one-way lane?”

  She opened her mouth, looking ready to keep protesting, but then froze. “One-way lane?”

  “That’s right. Cars need to enter from the north and exit on the south. You entered on the south. You need to back up and circle around, then approach the school from the other direction.”

  “I didn’t see any signs when I pulled in.”

  Sam glanced over his shoulder to see if the three-foot sign at the end of the lane had somehow disappeared. It was still there.

  “There are signs, ma’am.”

  She sighed, which sounded more like a growl of frustration. “Fine, I’ll back up and go around and come in the right way. But you,” she said, turning her attention to Burt. “You didn’t have to yell at me.”

  “I wasn’t yelling,” Burt protested. “Was I yelling, Sam?”

  “I’m not getting in the middle of this.” Sam waited in the lane until the woman had backed up and pulled out of the way, then he stepped to the side to allow the other cars to pass. “Thanks for what you did, Burt.”

  “You’re welcome. But what was her problem?”

  “She was from out of state.”

  “Ah.”

  Sam grinned as he walked up to the school. He might as well go inside to wait for Tillie—it would be a waste of time to get back in his car, loop around, and drive through the pick-up lane now.

  The bell rang, and the hallway swarmed with a stampede of children. Moments later, Tillie ran up to him, throwing her arms around his legs. “Daddy, this is the most wonderful day ever! I have a new friend, and her name is Sophie, and she just moved here, and we’re going to be best friends forever, and I want her to come over and play. Okay, Daddy?”

  Sam chuckled. Tillie always had been a talker. “Let me get to know her parents first, okay? And then we’ll see about a play date.”

  “There she is!” Tillie pointed down the hall to where a little blonde girl dragged her backpack by one strap toward the drinking fountain.

  “Why does she look so sad?”

  “Some of the boys were making fun of her. I told them to stop it, and then I punched one of them right in the lip. Mrs. Cowell said I should go see the principal, but then Jacob said I wouldn’t get in trouble because you’re my dad, and then the kids all started to laugh, but I told them they’d better be good or you’d come talk to their parents.”

  Sam shook his head. He didn’t know if Tillie misunderstood his role in the community, or if she understood it too well and was using it to her advantage. “Go tell her she can walk outside with us.”

  When they exited the building, Sam saw the blue car parked out front, the blonde woman leaning on the back hatch and scanning the stream of children anxiously. Her eyes lit up when she saw Tillie’s new friend. “Sophie! Over here!”

  “Daddy, there’s her mom. Go talk to her so we can have a play date,” Tillie urged.

  Sam nodded and followed Sophie over to her mother’s car. Now that she was standing up, he could see that the woman was five four and weighed around one thirty. She obviously spent more money on her clothes than she did her car.

  “Hi! I’m Tillie. And this is my dad, Sam. We live here in Cherry Creek. Our house is brown and white, and I want a dog. And now that you know us, can Sophie come over to play?”

  The woman blinked at the rapid-fire introduction. “Hi, Tillie. I’m Carly. And it would be nice for Sophie to have a friend. Maybe after we’re all moved in, okay?” She cut her eyes over to Sam. “Can we talk?”

  Sam followed her a car length or two away, keeping an eye on the little girls over Carly’s shoulder.

  “Welcome to Cherry Creek,” he said. “If you need help finding work or anything, I can—”

  “Listen—Sam, was it? You and I need to get one thing clear right now.” She glanced over at the little girls as well. They were busy comparing stickers on their notebooks, and Sam didn’t think they could overhear anything from where they were. “I don’t know what you think this is, but I promise you, it’s not.”

  “What?” Her anger had come out of nowhere, and he was completely bowled over.

  “I saw how you were checking me out.”

  “That’s what I do,” he tried to explain.

  “That’s what you do? That’s what you do? So every time you meet a new woman, that’s what you do?” Her voice got a little louder with each repetition. Sam glanced around, no longer worried about the girls—he was worried about the other parents. “And offering to help find me a job? I get it, all right? You see a single mother struggling in a new town and you think you can swoop in like some kind of romance novel hero, help find her work—for which she’ll probably be overpaid, because you’re a hero—and love her daughter like your own. You’ve got it all planned out—our daughters are friends, they’ll be perfect stepsisters, and you’ll have a little wife to make your meals and dust your dirty shelves. Am I right? Because I don’t see a wedding ring—”

  “I took it off,” Sam interjected.

  “Of course you took it off because that’s what men like you do! So just get in your car, take your daughter home—if that’s your real daughter and not just a cute child you rented so you could pick up on women—and we’ll pretend this never happened. All right?”

  She strode off before Sam could come up with a retort.

  ***

  “Mommy, I really like Tillie. She wants to be my friend.”

  Carly glanced in the rearview mirror. “That’s great, honey.”

  “Why were you so mad at her daddy?”

  “Um …” Carly didn’t know how to explain. How could she tell her five-year-old that she was sick and tired of men treating her like a car on the showroom floor that they could take for a spin and then trade in for a new model when the tires got dirty? “I wasn’t really mad, sweetheart. I’m just tired. I worked hard at the recording studio today.”

  “Tillie’s dad said something about jobs. Can he give you a job, Mommy? Something that won’t make you so tired?”

  Carly pressed her lips together. What else had Sophie overheard? “This is a good kind of tired, sweetheart. I’m working hard to make my dreams come true, and that means that I’ll be able to make your dreams come true too. Now, listen—what if we get pizza tonight?”

  She knew the answer before she looked in the mirror to see Sophie’s head bounce up and down. Her daughter loved pizza, and Carly loved not having to cook. This would have to be a rare treat, though—until her album was released and she started to get some sales, every penny had to be watched like a hawk. And if the album didn’t sell … well, then she’d see about getting a job. But she wasn’t going to ask Tillie’s dad for one—men like that were to be avoided at all costs.

  ***

  Carly helped Sophie with her homework, which took all of five minutes. It wasn’t exactly rocket science, drawing lines to connect the blue squares on the left to the blue squares on the right, and then doing the same with the red triangles. She ran a brush through Sophie’s hair and then her own, trying to imitate what her stylist had done. It really was no use—she wasn’t good at the whole beauty thing, which was why Lotus Leaf had sent her for a makeover. The new clothes,
the highlights . . . none of it felt like her, but she supposed that was a good thing. The old Carly would have looked terrible on an album cover.

  Sophie chattered about school as they drove to the pizza parlor, and Carly’s thoughts returned to Sam. How dare he? Indignation flowed through her again as she remembered everything he’d said and done. She was so finished with men. She and Sophie would be just fine on their own, thank you very much.

  They went inside and Carly ordered their favorite—a supreme with extra olives. The prices were pretty reasonable for hand-tossed deep dish, but even so, she felt a twinge of worry as she broke the twenty-dollar bill. She’d been raised to be frugal. Hopefully, she’d have a real paycheck soon, and then she could stop freaking out every time she wanted to buy something. And she’d definitely be getting a new car. Every time it started without seizing up, it was like a miracle.

  Chapter Two

  Sam watched Carly as she finished paying for her pizza and then turned to see the girls talking by the vending machines. Carly’s eyes darted around and landed on his with something he could only describe as lightning bolts from one of the lower levels of Hades.

  “Are you following me?” she hissed when she was close enough to speak to him without raising her voice. “Because I’m not flattered. I’m offended. I thought I made myself perfectly clear this afternoon.”

  “Is it so hard for you to believe that this is a coincidence, both of us being here right now?” he countered. This woman had some serious paranoia issues. He’d better look into that.

  “It is too much to believe. And now I’m sure you’re going to launch into some sort of explanation about how it’s kismet, and we’re meant to be. This is not a romance novel, Sam, and I’m not falling for it. So just leave me in peace, would you?”

  Sam exhaled slowly. He had tried to be patient, but that could only last so long. “It’s time for you to listen to me. There’s only one pizza parlor in this town, and they don’t deliver. If you want a pizza, this is where you come. I’m sorry it’s too much of a coincidence that we would both happen to want pizza at the same time, but it is. And I’ll thank you to stop attacking me with your accusations, which are completely unfounded.”