Love Song [Instrumental] (Hidden Springs #1)

Excerpt

Love Story (Confidential)

Tessa caught the package just before it hit her in the nose.

“Make a wish!” Mel said, laughing.

Tessa shot her sister a dirty look and turned the package over in the fading light, trying to figure out what it was. Tall shade trees blocked the last of the sun’s rays, casting long shadows across the lakeside commons and painting the water in shades of fire. The nearby bonfire warmed her back, but it didn’t make reading the label any easier.

When Tessa finally figured it out, she couldn’t help smiling.

“Where did you find this?” she asked. It was a wish lantern, almost identical to the ones from Annabelle’s birthday party ages ago.

“Ah, the miracle of the internet,” said Mel drily. “You should try it sometime.”

Tessa’s smile faded as Mel handed her a tiny pencil and said, “For writing your wish.”

Tessa could hear the subtle challenge in Mel’s voice, but her sister should know better. She didn’t throw coins in fountains anymore, or look for four-leaf clovers, or search the sky for shooting stars. She lived in the real world and made her own dreams come true. Recently she had begun to wonder how long that might take, but she had never—not even for a second—considered giving up.

“I’ll just fly my lantern,” said Tessa. “No need for wishing.”

Mel refused to take the pencil back.

“Chicken?” she asked slyly.

“Of course not,” said Tessa. “I just think wishing is a waste of time.” She gave Mel a hard look. “You know that.”

“Yeah, and I also know that you’re late. Where the hell have you been?”

“At the house. Work stuff,” said Tessa.

She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, hoping to sidetrack Mel with the work-life debate. It was usually an effective distraction.

Mel didn’t take the bait.

“So this should be no big deal, right?” she asked, gesturing to the paper lantern in Tessa’s hand. “If you don’t believe in wishes, who cares what you write? You could write anything.”

“I don’t need to prove anything,” answered Tessa. She made a conscious effort not to clench her teeth.

“I see,” said Mel, doing her best imitation of Tessa’s therapist voice.

“What do you see?” asked Tessa. She knew she was letting Mel get to her, but she couldn’t help it. Her sister had been perfecting this technique for twenty-seven years and she was really, really good at it.

“Your words are saying that you don’t believe in wishing,” said Mel, still doing her therapist impression, “but your behavior tells me that you do.”

Tessa growled under her breath. She hated it when Mel was right. Mel raised an eyebrow, challenging her to deny it .

“Fine,” said Tessa. “Let me demonstrate how much I don’t care.”

She ripped open the plastic sleeve and yanked out the folded lantern. She grabbed Mel by the shoulders, spun her around, and put the lantern on her back.

“Hold still,” she said.

Using Mel as her writing desk, Tessa scribbled on the side of the lantern. She didn’t think about it too much, writing the first thing that came into her head. Then she turned Mel back around, put the pencil in her hand, and said, “Happy now?”

“Sure am,” said Mel. She threw an arm around Tessa’s tense shoulders and began walking her down to the tiny strip of beach. “Let’s go fire these things up.”

Tessa fought the urge to dig in her heels. All she really wanted to do was cross her arms, plant her feet, and throw her lantern into the bonfire, but her inner therapist echoed Mel’s words: What is your behavior telling Mel? What does it tell you?

That decided it. She would prove to both Mel and herself that she truly didn’t care about wishing. She allowed Mel to lead her to the water’s edge, where a small crowd had already gathered. Friends, neighbors, her parents, Callie—all of them stood around with their lanterns in various stages of assembly. Tessa put hers together without speaking, ignoring the lighthearted chatter that swirled around her. For most people, this was an amusing exercise, not unlike buying a lottery ticket or throwing a coin into a fountain. For her, it was incredibly depressing, dredging up memories of The Year of Failed Wishes. It wasn’t so much that she mourned the wishes. She mourned the girl who had done the wishing.

The nearly full moon had risen above the tree line on the far shore as twilight faded into evening, providing the perfect backdrop for the lanterns as they rose into the air one by one. Someone passed her a lighter. She used it to kindle her tiny flame and then handed it on to Mel. While she waited for the air inside her lantern to warm, she watched the early fliers rise higher and higher, wondering if any of them would tumble as hers had, or go down in flames. She hoped not. She wouldn’t wish that disappointment on anyone. She would give anything to feel that sense of limitless possibility again.

At last her lantern was ready. Defiant, she lifted it to the moon and watched it rise. Mel followed suit and the two lanterns climbed side by side. A soft breeze caught them, carrying them farther and higher than the rest. It looked like their two lanterns might make it to the far end of the lake. When they were so far away that Tessa couldn’t distinguish between their lanterns and the stars, she took a deep breath and turned to face her sister, steeling herself for an I-told-you-so, but Mel surprised her, staying quiet for at least a minute before saying anything.

“So,” asked Mel, her voice thick, “what did you wish for?”

Tessa wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Don’t want to jinx it?” asked Mel. Her voice sounded stronger and Tessa could see a half-smile on her moonlit profile.

“It wasn’t a wish,” she admitted. “I’m done with those.”

“So what was it?” asked Mel, finally turning to face her sister.

“A question,” answered Tessa grimly. “Where the hell is my Prince Charming?”

RJ nursed his beer while he watched his friends and neighbors fuss over their sky lanterns. Thankfully, Mel had run out before she’d been able to saddle him with one. Craft projects weren’t his thing, although he did enjoy watching everyone try to read and follow the directions in the dark. It looked like more fun than assembling IKEA furniture .

As he surveyed the crowd, he realized that all three of the James sisters were up for the weekend. He had seen Mel, obviously, as she distributed the lanterns. She stood just a few steps away from him now with Tessa. Their other sister Callie, stood at the far end of the beach, but he couldn’t identify the man she was with, or the boy. Holy crap, did she have a kid? Now he really felt old.

He watched as Mel and Tessa released their lanterns into the sky. All three James sisters in one place. Damn. He hadn’t seen that trifecta in action since his final summer at the lake. Had it really been ten years? That had been his last summer of freedom between junior and senior years of college. For the triplets and their posse of girlfriends, however, it had been the summer after high school graduation—their first taste of freedom, and all the wildness that went along with turning eighteen.

There had been a lot of skinny dipping that summer.

He had managed to stay out of trouble by focusing his attention on the older girls, the ones who were closer to the end of college than the beginning. Oddly, though, his clearest memories were of Tessa. She had offered unsolicited critiques of his early attempts at flirtation. To this day, whenever he approached an attractive woman, he tested his opening lines against his memory of Tessa.

WWTS: What would Tessa say?

As he approached her to say hello, he couldn’t help overhearing the end of Tessa’s exchange with Mel.

“Where the hell is my Prince Charming?”

How ironic that practical Tessa dreamed of fairy tales.

“Looking for me?” he drawled, smugly pleased with his ‘charming’ response to her question.

Tessa and Mel got one good look at him, long enough to realize who he was, and then the two of them dissolved into helpless laughter. He frowned, but it only made them laugh harder. Of all their possible reactions, he had not anticipated laughter. Charm was his specialty.

“RJ,” gasped Tessa after several minutes of uncontrolled mirth, “what are you doing here?” She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes and struggled to get herself under control, only to lose it again when she met Mel’s eyes.

“What, I’m not allowed to come home?” he asked. His knew his voice sounded grumpy, but he didn’t bother to turn the charm back on. That had clearly backfired.

“No, it’s not—” She stopped, took a breath, regrouped. “I thought you lived in California.”

“I did,” he answered simply, “and now I live here.”

Tessa and Mel were avoiding each other’s eyes and doing a crappy job of keeping straight faces.

“Really?” she asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

He could imagine all the questions that must be racing around in her head. Why move back to the Midwest? Why come back to the lake? Have you lost your mind? He didn’t really feel like explaining.

“So what’s so funny?” he asked.

He had learned a few tricks in his years of lawyering. Take control of the conversation. Answer a question with a question. By far his favorite was to ask the obvious question.

Tessa and Mel exchanged glances, then burst into giggles again, so he used another lawyer trick: patience. He crossed his arms and drummed his fingers on his bicep, waiting for an answer. Mel gave his bicep an appreciative glance, but Tessa kept her eyes on his face.

“Sorry,” she hiccuped. She shot a questioning glance at Mel, then took the lead in answering the question. “It’s just that…well, you’re sort of the opposite of Prince Charming.”

“What are you talking about?” he objected, on the grounds that her answer was both insulting and flat-out wrong. “I’ve been told by many women that I’m both charming and easy on the eyes. What’s not to like?”

“That’s exactly the point,” answered Tessa. “You’ve enjoyed the company of many—”

“Many!” echoed Mel.

“—women.”

RJ couldn’t follow her logic. He was well and truly baffled.

“And the problem is…?” He spread his arms wide in question.

Tessa sighed.

“Prince Charming is kind of a one-woman man, if you know what I mean,” she explained.

“He makes one woman happy in many ways, rather than many women happy in one way,” clarified Mel. Before he could protest, she added, “Yes, I’m suggesting you’re a player.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Tessa choked back a laugh.

“Mel means that in the nicest possible way,” she said, giving Mel a reproving look. “You’re not exactly known as the happily-ever-after type. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she added hastily, throwing up a hand to forestall any arguments.

He still had no words. Would the insults never end?

“It’s just that, well, I’m a happily-ever-after kind of girl, and Prince Charmings can be hard to find.”

Finally he found his voice.

“So if I’m not Prince Charming, then who am I?” he asked, wanting to know exactly where he fit into the fairy tale scene.

Tessa and Mel looked at each other, considering their options.

“Jack and the Beanstalk?” proposed Tessa.

Mel immediately shook her head. “Grumpy the Dwarf!” she said.

RJ frowned as they snickered together.

Then Tessa sucked in a breath. “Peter Pan,” she said. Mel cocked her head, considering, then nodded her agreement. The two sisters turned to face him, their faces wearing identical expressions of smug triumph.

“Peter Pan,” they announced.

“No way.” He completely rejected their premise. He was not a boy playing at life. He was a man. A strong man. A hunter, even. “I think I merit at least the Hunstman from Snow White. Or what about the Wolf?” He liked that image, especially if Little Red Riding Hood was naked under the red satin cloak. He grinned at them. “I’m the Big Bad Wolf.”

Mel shook her head. “Nope,” she said.

Tessa pursed her lips. “Sorry, but no.”

He must have looked sad, or disappointed, or something, because all of a sudden they were trying to make him feel better.

“Don’t worry,” said Tessa, putting her hand on his forearm. He realized that his arms were still crossed, and his shoulders were actually a little tense. “Just because you’re not Prince Charming doesn’t mean you’re not sexy. You are. Totally sexy, I mean.”

“Super-hot,” agreed Mel, only she didn’t look quite as earnest or, frankly, as honest as Tessa did.

“Super-hot?” he asked, giving Mel his best cross-examination stare. She didn’t even blink, just grinned at him.

“The hottest,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “I have to leave now or I might jump you, and that would be embarrassing. Wine?” she called to Tessa as she walked away.

“Yes please,” said Tessa. Her hand was still on RJ’s arm, and she was standing close enough that he could smell her shampoo, something with flowers or berries.

“You smell good,” he said.

She was the one who had trained him all those years ago to give authentic compliments. From the way her smile widened, she remembered .

“You’re sweet,” she answered, “but your superpowers won’t work on me. I’m immune, remember?”

She looked up to meet his eyes, which must have thrown off her balance, because she swayed and held on tight to his arm.

“Too much wine?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“I’m out of practice,” she answered.

Or at least that’s what it sounded like. He was about to ask her what she meant when his phone rang.