Читать книгу The Girl He Used To Love - Amy Vastine - Страница 9

CHAPTER ONE

LUCK WAS A funny thing. People could be blessed with the good kind and then cursed with a string of the bad. Good luck made people millionaires overnight. It caused paths to cross and lost valuables to be found. The not-so-good kind led to much less desirable endings...like standing umbrella-less on the side of the road with nothing but a cell phone for a flashlight in a torrential downpour that had begun at exactly the same time as the horrific thump-thump-thumping noise coming from the front passenger-side tire.

Dean Presley was fed up with the string of bad luck that had become his reality lately. Not only was he still over an hour away from Nashville but he most definitely had a flat tire.

“Seriously?” he shouted up at the heavens.

Climbing back into his car, Dean would have given just about anything for a towel. He held his phone out until it touched the windshield, desperate for a cell signal. When that didn’t work, he reached back and pointed the phone in the other direction. Still nothing. He might as well have been in the middle of the Smoky Mountains given the complete lack of cell service around here.

He tossed the useless piece of technology in the backseat and turned up the heat, hoping to fight off the chill. He never should have gotten off the highway and taken these deserted back roads, even though he knew them well. He rested his head on the steering wheel. When it rained, it poured. Literally.

The unceasing rain might be the reason there was no one on the road. Dean had gotten off the interstate because of an accident that had shut down all lanes going north. The alternate route had been a blessing at first, but not so much now that he was in need of some help. Tonight was full of shouldn’t-haves, starting with making this trip in the first place.

Driving down to Birmingham to scout a band he’d heard about from a friend had been a complete bust. Maybe the band was having a bad night, but the drummer couldn’t keep the beat and the singer kept forgetting the words. Their lead guitarist was decent but, unfortunately for him, he was doomed to playing hole-in-the-wall bars in Alabama for the rest of his life unless he found new bandmates. Basically, Dean’s time would have been better spent searching YouTube for some undiscovered talent.

Two brightly shining headlights appeared in the rearview mirror. He switched on his hazards, praying the driver would stop, but the sixteen-wheeler whizzed by, spraying the broken-down BMW with water from the flooded road. No one was going to save him.

There was only one thing to do and that was to make a run for it. The sinking feeling in his stomach kept him right where he was, though. It had been a dozen years since he had been back to the place he used to call home. Grass Lake, Tennessee, held too many painful memories. Dean had left the summer before his senior year of college and had never come back. Not even for holidays.

Holidays were the worst.

“In and out,” he said to himself. “Find a phone, call Landon and leave. No one will know you were there.”

A flash of lightning lit up the sky, making him question his sanity. He turned the car off and opened the door.

* * *

“ANY COOKIES LEFT?”

Faith gave Old Man Middleton an apologetic smile. Every Friday night the Sundown Bar and Grill featured one of her alcohol-inspired desserts. “Sorry, Hank. I made Rum and Coke Swirled Shortbread for tonight. Those went pretty fast.”

Hank snapped his fingers as he sat on the stool beside her. “I knew I should have stopped by earlier. That’s what I get for coming for a nightcap instead of an imperative.”

“I think you mean an aperitif,” Faith said, trying hard to hold back her laughter.

“That’s what I said,” Hank asserted. He leaned across the bar. “You sure your brother ain’t got a couple hidden away? I came out in the pouring rain for your cookies.”

Faith shook her head. She’d have to run a special batch of cookies over to his place in the morning to make up for it.

Hank sat back. “Guess I’ll have to settle for the liquid version.”

Faith’s younger brother had already anticipated his order and set the drink down in front of him. Sawyer had a way of meeting people’s needs before they even knew what they needed. It was a gift he had inherited from their father. Faith’s heart ached a little at the thought.

“You got here in time to catch my second set. That’s got to be worth something,” Sawyer said.

For a couple months now Sawyer had spent his weekend evenings tending bar and entertaining the customers with a few songs. Faith had made him promise this little side job wouldn’t interfere with his responsibilities at the farm, and so far, Sawyer had made it work.

“Well, your father used to brag about you playing a mean guitar.”

The Sundown had been their daddy’s favorite place to hang out after a long day on the horse farm. He loved chatting up the other regulars and telling stories that were oftentimes more fiction than fact. Nothing ever brought the guy down.

Nothing except one fatal heart attack that ended his life way too soon.

“If you ask real nice, I bet Sawyer will take a request,” Faith said.

Sawyer shot his sister a look. Faith was sure her little brother didn’t know many tunes from back in Hank’s day, but ever the quick thinker, he offered up a suggestion instead. “Are you a Johnny Cash fan?”

“What does a young man like you know about Johnny Cash?”

“Oh, I’ll show you what I know about Johnny Cash, Mr. Middleton,” Sawyer answered with his trademark grin complete with the dimples that made every woman in Grass Lake swoon. Too bad her brother had no intention of ever settling down. He had dated a few nice girls but never let anyone get too close.

Sawyer checked his hair in the mirrored backsplash and whistled for his buddy to bring him his guitar. Faith moved to the other side of the bar to cover for her brother while he performed. She had to admit, the kid had some talent. He wrote his own songs and played the guitar pretty well for a self-taught man.

Josie Peters leaned against the bar. A widow with a teenage daughter, Josie had moved to Grass Lake a few years ago and used some of the money she had inherited from her late husband’s estate to buy the Sundown. She and Faith had become friends almost immediately.

Josie was the one who’d come up with the idea to feature a drink-and-cookie special Friday nights. She’d begged Faith to help her out after tasting one of Faith’s mudslide brownies at a potluck dinner, and since Faith had difficulty saying no, the treats were now a customer favorite.

“Did you get a look at what just walked in?” she asked, nodding toward the entrance.

The man Josie was ogling must have swum here. That or his clothes had just come out of the washing machine without going through the spin cycle. Faith would have bet that if he took off his shoe, he could fill a glass with the water that was inside.

“He must not be from around here.” The dimly lit bar made it difficult to see his face.

“Maybe I can convince him to change that,” Josie said with a wink.

Every able-bodied, single guy in Grass Lake had been on Josie’s list of potential replacement husbands since she had decided to jump back into the dating pool. She had yet to catch one in her net, so this fresh blood made her absolutely giddy.

Faith couldn’t blame her for staring at the newcomer. His red shirt clung to his chest and when he stepped further in, she could see his dirty-blond hair looked a little darker from being wet than the short, close-cropped beard he was sporting. With great effort, he shoved his hand in his jeans’ pocket and pulled out his phone. The only way that thing was going to work was if its case was waterproof.

His frustration showed as he pressed the same button over and over without a positive result. Giving up, he headed in their direction. Josie readied herself for the big introduction by primping her hair with one hand and putting the other on her hip.

“You don’t happen to have a pay phone I could use or maybe a cell phone I could borrow?” His voice was deep and husky. Now that he was close, his intensely green eyes made Faith’s heart stop. She hadn’t recognized him from afar, but those eyes...she would never forget those eyes.

“You can use my phone, stranger,” Josie said, completely unaware of who she was talking to. She hadn’t lived in Grass Lake long enough to know the man was no stranger. “You look like you’ve been standing in the rain all night.”

“Something like that,” he answered. “Got a flat on Highway 14 and had to walk here.”

“Dean?” Faith choked out, her heart pounding like crazy.

Water from his hair dripped into his narrowing eyes. She could tell the moment he recognized her. She watched the muscle in his jaw tick before he exhaled her name.

She never thought she’d see Dean Presley again, and certainly not in Grass Lake. If there was one thing she remembered clearly, it was his desire to leave this town for good. Part of her had been relieved by his decision. It had saved her from having to face him after what had happened.

She forced herself to breathe as she pulled a clean dish towel out from under the bar and tried to act like there wasn’t a heartbreaking history between them. With a plastered-on smile, she handed it to him. “This won’t help all that much, but you can at least dry your face.”

He tentatively took it and wiped his brow. “It’s been one heck of a night.”

Josie put a hand on his shoulder. “You two know one another?”

Faith and Dean exchanged a look. Faith had known a Dean Presley who was probably very different than the one standing on the other side of the bar right now. His sister had been the best friend she’d ever had. He had been her first love. She had lost them both one fateful night a dozen years ago.

“You could say that,” Dean said, handing the towel back to Faith.

“Hey, Josie!” Bruce Gibson called from a table across the bar. He and his buddies were celebrating his fortieth birthday. “Another round!”

Josie glanced at Faith, silently checking if it was okay to leave them alone.

“I’ll let you two catch up, then,” she said once Faith gave her a nod.

Faith’s throat was too dry to speak. For a fleeting moment she thought about how Addison would make fun of the two of them staring at each other like a pair of idiots.

“You look great,” Dean finally said. “All grown up.”

He had always treated her like she was a little kid. Faith and Addison had followed him around like puppies. He used to get so annoyed, but that changed the summer Faith was eighteen. That was the year he’d finally looked at her as someone other than his baby sister’s friend.

“That’s what happens. Time passes, we grow up.”

Dean swallowed hard and nodded. “That’s true for most of us.”

She really was an idiot. Not everyone was lucky enough to grow old. Seeing him had caused her to lose her mind. She pulled the cordless phone out from under the bar. “You can use this,” she said, setting it in front of him.

He thanked her and seemed anxious for their reunion to come to an end. She moved on to another customer and tried to keep her emotions in check.

Josie cut the music that played throughout the bar and welcomed Sawyer back to the tiny stage in the corner, barely big enough for the two of them to stand on. Josie stepped down as Sawyer strummed his guitar. He gave Hank a shout out before singing his version of Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire.”

For some reason the song seemed to give Dean pause. He hung up and set the phone down. Dean had always had a thing for country music. People used to tease him given his last name and his complete inability to carry a tune, but Dean didn’t have to play music to love it. Addison used to call him obsessed. When Faith was a kid, she wished he was as passionate about her as he was about music. Now, she’d give anything to go back in time and make sure he never gave her a second thought.

She realized she had been staring when Dean waved her over.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked him, his eyes returning to her brother.

“No, but you can tell me who that guy is.” He pointed in the direction of the stage. Maybe he was as surprised as Hank that a young guy could make such an iconic country song his own. That was what Sawyer did best, take something old and make it new.

“That’s my brother.”

His wide eyes showed his surprise. He held a hand waist high. “That’s your little brother?” Twelve years ago, Sawyer had been a scrawny middle-schooler.

“That’s what my daddy told me when they brought him home from the hospital. Although, I often wonder if the doctors pulled a switcheroo.” Her attempt at lightening the mood fell flat. Dean went back to watching Sawyer with intense interest.

After the cover song, Sawyer sang one of his originals about chasing fireflies. He’d never admit it, but that song had something to do with their mom. She had run off and left them behind when Sawyer and Faith were just kids, but before that she had been the one who would take them out on a hot summer night armed with a pickle jar and a lid poked with holes. He pretended to hate her. Maybe a little part of him did, but there was another part of him that missed her as much as Faith did.

“Can you reintroduce us when he’s finished?” Dean asked when the song came to an end.

“Why? You want him to help you change your flat tire?”

“No,” he answered as if she hadn’t been kidding. “I want to make your brother a star.”