Читать книгу Dances Under The Harvest Moon - Joanne Rock - Страница 10
ОглавлениеSTARING INTO HER SUITCASE, Heather Finley wondered what a twenty-eight-year-old should pack to run away from home.
A lifetime “good girl,” Heather hadn’t tried running away as a ten-year-old, like most kids. As an adult, she knew she needed more than clean underwear and chocolate chip cookies. Although, come to think of it, she definitely wanted both of those. Peeling off her floral headpiece, she tossed aside her last commitment to Heartache, Tennessee.
At least, for a little while.
“Isn’t it supposed to be the bride who packs a bag during the wedding reception?”
Heather turned to see her older sister, Erin, in the doorway of the bedroom they’d shared as kids. Swathed in white and incredibly gorgeous, Erin had her caramel-colored hair pulled back in a loose knot with a vintage rhinestone pin secured to the twist.
Outside, the backyard wedding reception was in full swing. Dinner had been served and guests danced, even though it wasn’t fully dark yet. Twilight had just fallen and the purple Chinese lanterns around the white canvas tents had turned on a few minutes ago. Heather could see the party from the big bay window overlooking the backyard. She’d always loved this room—including the years she’d shared it with Erin. It had been a retreat from the craziness of the Finley household and their mom’s notorious mood swings. Heather and Erin had spent the last two nights before Erin’s wedding to Remy Weldon in their childhood bedroom, enjoying girl time and giggling about Erin’s future as a married woman.
“Have I told you that you are the most beautiful bride?” Heather got teary just looking at Erin today. Not only because she adored her sister and was happy she’d found a supportive, grounded, hunky Cajun partner for life, but also because Heather wouldn’t be seeing her for a while once she left town.
She may have also gotten teary because she was lying about her reasons for leaving Heartache. The guilt was killing her, even if her reasons were excellent.
“You may have mentioned the beautiful-bride thing.” Erin grinned as she twirled her way across the hardwood floor of the old farmhouse, watching her floor-length tulle skirt swirl. “But since I’m so in love with this dress, I don’t mind another compliment.” She stopped beside Heather and clutched her arm to steady herself after the last spin. “That is, of course, unless you’re doling out praise to distract me from my question about why you’re packing when the party is still going strong?”
Erin pointed out the window where two hundred of their closest friends and family danced to the tunes of a popular country band their brother, Mack, had convinced to play. As the owner of a bar in Nashville, Mack had access to great musicians—lucky for him. For all her love of music, Heather was still stuck in Heartache teaching scales to resistant nine-year-olds.
She squeezed Erin’s shoulders, careful of the sheer lace bodice that transformed the dress from fairy tale to sophisticated—and perfect for Erin’s eclectic taste. The cut was simple and sleeveless, the lace’s pattern dramatic with see-through sections. Paired with the simple fall of straight tulle, the wedding gown was unlike anything Heather had ever seen.
“I’m not trying to distract you. Trying to distract myself from my nerves is more like it.” She managed a half smile for a half-truth. She definitely would have been happy to sidetrack her sister from this topic. She was jittery enough without justifying her need to leave town.
Or telling more lies.
“You know I’m going to be rooting for you all the way, right?” Erin plunked down onto the chenille bedspread on one of three matching single beds. They used to play Goldilocks and the Three Bears when they were kids, pretending to try out all three beds lined up in a row, headboards tucked under the eaves.
That third bed—their sister Amy’s—had been glaringly empty. The youngest Finley sibling hadn’t attended the wedding. She hadn’t set foot in Tennessee after leaving home at seventeen because of an argument with their mom. Heather had been out of town at the time. She had been devastated to return home to find Amy filing paperwork to become an emancipated minor. Amy had refused all money from their father and accused the family of enabling their mother’s behavior.
“I know.” Heather was grateful for Erin’s support about her new adventure, especially when Erin had so much on her mind with her honeymoon and the transition to being a stepmother with a teenage daughter.
“You’re so talented,” Erin said. “It’s about damn time you let the world see your bright light shine.”
Heather had sold her share of the consignment store she owned with Erin back to her sister so she could follow her own dreams—finally. As a part-time music teacher and full-time worker with Last Chance Vintage, Heather had always imagined trying her luck at singing, but up until now, she’d found too many reasons to put off stepping out of her comfort zone. Her family needed her. Her bipolar mother, especially, needed her. But there were other things, too. Heather volunteered at the local parks and recreation department, trying to maintain civic ties to the community, which had been important to her father. She had music students who counted on her. She’d also been a driving force getting Last Chance Vintage off the ground. But now Erin had really made the shop her own, expanding it to double the former size. And after a recent health-scare reality check, Heather was done putting her own life on hold.
“It seemed like the right time to give it a try now that American Voice is holding auditions in Charlotte.” Heather’s gaze wandered the room in an effort to change the subject. While she knew she had Erin’s support, she hadn’t really talked about how long she would be gone or how soon she planned to ditch town. And she didn’t want to slide into that particular chat right now.
Heather’s friend and former music student, Sylvia, had offered her a place to stay in Nashville for a couple of months if she wanted to knock on some doors in the country-music business. It was a good plan B. “But you didn’t come up here to listen to me talk about my plans. Where’s your suitcase? Can I help you pack for your honeymoon?”
She moved to Erin’s bed—still unmade from the night before when they’d painted each other’s toenails and eaten popcorn while watching movies. Plucking at a corner of the spread where it pooled on the floor, she reached for the handle of Erin’s train case.
“That’s okay. We’re not leaving yet. We’re thinking about waiting around until after the wedding breakfast tomorrow since there are so many friends from out of town we’d like to visit with.” Erin stood and pulled the curtains over the windows, making the room darker. “Right now, I thought I’d change dresses so I can really cut loose on the dance floor.”
“Of course.” Heather let go of the luggage and hurried toward the closet. “Did you decide what to wear yet?” She pulled out a couple of hotly debated options. “The pink lace halter dress or the blue satin pinup-girl number?”
“Remy warned me not to wear the satin one. He says he won’t last ten minutes in public with me in that dress.” Erin’s smile glowed with that “I’m sexy and I know it” brand of joy a well-satisfied woman tended to get. Not that Heather would know anything about that. Her last relationship had been with a guy she’d chosen because he’d checked all the right boxes.
No wonder they’d had zero chemistry.
“In other words, it comes down to this. Do you want to torment the groom a lot?” She held up the slinky blue one. “Or a little?” She held up the pink one, which was still a stunner.
Then again, everything looked amazing on a woman who had that “I’m sexy and I know it” glow.
“Maybe just a little.” Erin slid down the side zipper of her wedding dress and stepped out of it. She handed the gown to Heather and took the pink lace. “I still can’t believe I’m a married woman six months after meeting the man of my dreams.”
“When it’s right, you know it.” Heather’s heart had hurt for Erin when her private sister had finally opened up about Mr. Not Right, who had come before Remy—a guy who’d been married to someone else and never let on while dating Erin.
The Finley family had precedents for keeping their private lives on the down low since their mother tended to feed off strong emotions and unhappiness, making them her own until her kids ended up comforting her over their misfortunes.
“Exactly. Why wait to start your future when you know what you want?” Erin wriggled her way into the slim-fitting lace. “That’s why I’m so excited for you to have an adventure of your own. I never knew you were so passionate about singing.”
“Still waters run deep.” Heather winked at her sister and fixed a few strands of hair that had slid free. “Are you going to keep the brooch in your hair or do you want me to take it out?”
“I’ll leave it.” Erin patted one side absently. She’d never been the kind to spend a lot of time on her looks, even though she wore the most interesting clothes of anyone in town. She had an artsy flare that worked for her, whether that meant she had pink streaks in her hair one day or Goth-girl black strands the next. “You ready to come down and dance? You can pack tomorrow, right?”
Heather had told everyone she was leaving after the wedding. But she’d thought she could slip out as soon as Erin and Remy took off for their honeymoon. Leave it to Erin to party half the night.
She swallowed.
“Right. I just wish I was more organized for my trip. You know how I am...always trying to plan ten steps ahead.”
That had been true right up until she had an acute onset of rheumatoid arthritis. When she’d been on a buying trip for the store, she’d had a flare-up so bad she literally couldn’t move. The pain and stiffness had sent her to the hospital for a battery of tests until a doctor had come up with the diagnosis. The disease wasn’t life threatening, but it was a serious immune system disorder with lifelong consequences. Different from regular arthritis that most people experienced as they aged or as a result of old sports injuries, the rheumatoid variety meant a body’s immune system attacked its own connective tissue, pretty much just for the hell of it.
Getting ahead of the problem would mean draining bouts of strong medication until the doctors discovered what worked best with her body chemistry. There was no one drug that worked for everyone, and Heather desperately wanted to investigate some homeopathic remedies, too.
Receiving the diagnosis while she’d been on the road—in Austin, Texas, and all alone—had made her realize how much she preferred the quiet of her own thoughts as she sorted through what the diagnosis meant for her. She didn’t want the Finley family hubbub around her right now. She wanted to focus on herself. And more important, she wanted to start living her dreams. It didn’t matter if she was tired. If she flared up. Or if her new medicines didn’t agree with her. The health scare had made her reassess. She’d realized she’d been living a safe, boring life and never taking hold of the reins for herself.
She was so done planning ten steps ahead.
“Well, you can organize once I’m in the Cajun bayous with Remy for my honeymoon.” Erin dug in the other side of the closet. “Plus, I think the mayor has his eye on you. You should wear the satin siren-girl dress and see what happens.”
Heather did not want to think about the long looks Zach Chance had been giving her lately. She’d hoped it was her imagination, even if he was one of the most sought-after single men in Heartache. Now was definitely not the time to get involved with anyone.
Besides, Zach was...the mayor. She was putting small-town life behind her, not campaigning for it. He seemed to see her as her father’s daughter—himself a former mayor of Heartache. But Heather was about to change all that good-girl stuff before her body started wearing out prematurely. Who knew how long her window of good mobility would be?
She smiled. “First of all, my boobs wouldn’t hold up that dress in a million years. Second, you’re going to be the star of the show tonight.” She reached for a yellow sundress instead. “How about this for me?”
“Too sweet and not nearly sexy enough. There are hot guys down there, Heather. Come on. Did you see Remy’s brothers?” Erin dug deeper into the closet and emerged with a bright pink jersey dress with cutouts at the waist. “Here.”
“Redheads don’t do fuchsia. And yes, your brothers-in-law are definitely turning heads.” Armand and Landry Weldon were as handsome as their brother, Remy, and their Cajun accents had all the women in town swooning.
Erin tugged the dress off the hanger anyway. “It’s berry, not fuchsia, and don’t argue with the bride.”
“Okay, but keep in mind you’ll have to see this eye abomination in your wedding album for the rest of time.” Heather slid off the simple lavender maid-of-honor dress, which Erin had let her choose for her big day. Laying it on the bed, Heather slipped the bright jersey over her head and pulled the fabric to cover her hips.
It was surprisingly comfortable, even if the diamond-shaped cutouts bared skin on either side of her waist.
“Hoochie mama.” Erin whistled. “Now that’s a dress.” Picking up the discarded daisy floral crown from the bed, she pulled three flowers out of it and tucked the stems behind Heather’s ear. “You ready to have some fun?” Her cornflower-blue eyes roamed Heather’s face.
“I’m ready.” She would have to delay her great escape for a few hours to make her sister happy. She hoped her joints stayed quiet for a little longer. Her right wrist throbbed a little, but she could ice it later. “I’m simply not going to look in any mirrors.”
“Would I send you out into the world unless you looked gorgeous? Give me some credit. I’m kind of a professional at dressing people.”
True enough. Besides her work at Last Chance Vintage, Erin had single-handedly started a hugely successful Dress for Success initiative to help women in tough economic situations find great outfits for job interviews. So many clothes had been donated to the cause that Erin had enough to sponsor a mobile unit that traveled to remote parts of the state where poverty was the worst.
“I know. I don’t always have the same bold aesthetic as you.” But she was going to try harder, right? She’d promised herself that when she left town, she would start breaking a few rules. She had a lot of lost time to make up.
“Once you’re competing on American Voice in front of the whole country, you’re going to have to find your boldness.” Erin swept Heather’s long red curls behind one shoulder. “Why don’t you practice tonight by letting your hair down and shaking your moneymaker?”
Erin swatted her on the butt before darting in front of her and rushing down the stairs, cackling the whole way.
“My moneymaker?” Heather called down, following more slowly. “I’m definitely going to tell your groom to cut off your champagne supply,” she teased as she spotted Remy in the kitchen at the foot of the staircase.
Surrounded by his brothers, along with Zach Chance, the very man Heather had been avoiding, Remy seemed to be involved in a drinking game. All four guys held shot glasses in hand, a dark bottle resting on the open bar cabinet between them.
“Looks like we’ve moved beyond champagne,” Erin noted dryly, pulling her new husband’s attention from his empty glass.
Remy’s approval of the dress was obvious as he moved toward Erin faster than if magnets pulled them together. He kissed her thoroughly, to the delight of his brothers, who contributed howls and wolf whistles that drew the attention of the catering staff in the kitchen. Zach kept his eyes on Heather, his quiet, focused gaze missing nothing.
“We’re taste-testing Harlan Brady’s distilling efforts,” he informed her, pulling another shot glass out of the bar cabinet while Remy and Erin finally came up for air.
Zach wore khaki pants and a vest, his jacket discarded in deference to the warm evening. The guys in the wedding party were dressed similarly, with gray vests and pants. One of Remy’s brothers had lost his tie, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. But no matter, the group of men in the farmhouse dining room made for a formidable bunch, all thick shouldered and well built.
Still, it was Zach who held her attention. He’d grown up in Heartache, so he was a local guy. Yet even back in high school, he’d exuded a prep-school vibe, which suggested more money and better breeding. The more-money part was true—his father had made a fortune in the stock market. But the better-breeding part? Not so much. Zach’s dad went to jail for securities fraud, creating a huge scandal in the small town and far beyond. Zach worked hard to make people forget that, by volunteering at a nursing home as a teen, charming all the teachers and generally doing everything “right.”
His light brown hair was perfect, for example. Neither too short nor too long, it always looked as though a woman’s fingers had just tousled a few strands. His clothes were well pressed, surprising after a day when everyone else was starting to rumple.
To be honest, he had looked like the mayor when he was a senior in high school. Heather had been a year behind him. He’d left town for college on the West Coast and returned last year wealthier than before. Not that Heather cared about any of that. If anything, it made it tougher to like Zach, as he had the appearance of a man who breezed through life, while others slogged to get ahead. No, the thing that drew her to Zach was simply this: he had a slow, brooding way of looking at her that made her insides tingle. She felt the awareness hum through her now as she closed her eyes to force herself not to look at him.
“Count us in,” Erin announced. “Heather?”
She opened her eyes, her cheeks heating. “What?”
Erin waved her closer, but Heather kept her gaze locked to Remy’s. “If Harlan brewed it himself, it seems only polite we give it a try.”
“I draw the line at moonshine.” She edged around the newlyweds to stand closer to the door. How could she drink Harlan Brady’s potent brew when she planned on driving tonight?
Not to mention the medications she’d already started taking. Two of them came with the “absolutely no alcohol warning” label.
Zach set a fresh glass for Erin on the counter and followed Heather out of the dining area. “Wise move skipping the home brew.” He lowered his voice for her ears only as they passed through the family room toward the glass doors leading to the patio. “Harlan’s got a ways to go in his distillery skills.”
“You being an expert in moonshine?” She wasn’t the sarcastic type, but the words leaped out anyhow.
Something about Zach’s polished ease had always ruffled her a little. Maybe she envied his confidence. His perfect sense of belonging at all times. He’d done such a good job separating himself from his father’s criminal life, emerging a small-town hero when he took over the mayor’s job after Heather’s father had passed away. Only a few weeks after he’d arrived back in Heartache, in fact.
“Connoisseur of moonshine is on the list of qualifications for mayor. I thought it best to prepare myself for the job.” He paused near the fireplace, not moving any closer to the patio doors.
Country music vibrated the window panes, the tempo of the night kicking up a notch.
“My father must not have been as dedicated,” she shot back, reminding him of the Finley family’s lock on the mayor’s seat for over a decade.
She was jittery and off balance. She told herself it was because she’d already had one foot out the door when Erin had thwarted her plan to take off. It definitely wasn’t because of the way Zach Chance wore a shirt. Or the way he smelled like bay rum and sexy male.
Realizing how close they stood, she skittered a step back.
“I’m pretty sure your father just kept the still far from the house.” Zach surprised her with a smile.
The easy, lazy, heir-to-the-throne smile that had won him the job after her father died. Not that Zach had campaigned. He was the write-in candidate of choice—a natural leader. His return to town had been front-page news in the local rumor mill.
“He did like a good tailgate party,” Heather admitted, even though Zach was teasing. Probably. “I’m pretty sure he chose to entertain far from home to ensure none of us would embarrass him.”
“Everyone knew how much your father loved his family.” Zach turned serious. “Family first, right?” He quoted her dad’s favorite line, which he had often used while assuring the people of Heartache that they were all part of his personal clan.
“So he said.” However, her father had spent very little time with his flesh and blood and made very little effort to help manage his wife’s severe bipolar disorder. All his energy went to building a business and then rebuilding the town. She took another step back, her ankle jamming into an ottoman. “I’d probably better check on my mom.”
Yeah, color her lame. She always made excuses to escape from talking to cute guys by running to mama. But she had too much emotional flotsam in her head to sort through whatever was happening between her and Zach.
“Of course.” He was so smooth, so socially adept, he never let on that he found her as awkward as a preteen. Straightening, he reached for her. “May I?”
His hand hovered near her cheek.
Her heart rate spiked and she didn’t trust herself to speak. Let alone move. She managed a nod.
Gently, he pulled away two of the daisies that Erin had tucked behind her ear. She’d forgotten all about them.
“Two of these are turning the wrong way.” He set them aside and adjusted the one remaining flower, giving her plenty of time to absorb the warmth of his fingertips against her scalp. The silky flutter of her hair along her neck as he moved a few strands.
Her mouth went dry. She stood so close to him, her gaze eye level with his throat and the strong column of his neck above his crisp white collar. Despite the dimly lit room, she could see the bristle of whiskers shadowed there. Imagine the feel of his skin if she were to touch him.
Disconcerted by those thoughts, she risked a glance higher. Only to have her gaze drawn to his square jaw and full, sensual mouth. Quickly, she looked down.
Only to see his broad shoulders and lean torso tapering to narrow hips. Strong thighs.
“There.” He stood back to admire his handiwork.
Not—she reminded herself—her.
Her face flamed as she mentally finished undressing the mayor. What was wrong with her?
“Thanks,” she muttered, cursing herself for noticing Zach.
Fleeing the scene before she did something stupid—like taste the moonshine or possibly even the man—Heather rushed out of the house and away from temptation. Unfortunately, she couldn’t escape from the images now burned into her brain after that close encounter. Why the hell had she let her imagination run away and not the rest of her?
She had no idea what he’d been thinking to corner her like that. What did he want from her?
She sighed. Heather had taken a lot of time to sew up loose ends in town so she’d be ready to leave Heartache after Erin’s wedding. Now her sister was married and laughing in the kitchen with her new husband. Heather’s work here was done. She had a life to get on track and an illness to battle.
The sooner she left, the better. Zach Chance could remain safely in her fantasies and well out of her life.
