Chapter 1
Sunday
Present day
I drop my carry-on beside the truck as I take in my brother Casey’s front porch, the rustic cabin looking cosy in the January afternoon light.
It’s Casey’s part-time hideaway for when he’s in his off-again period with his wife, Haven. Then, when they’re on-again, he moves back into the gorgeous American craftsman that he bought for her when she first became pregnant with their son, Tucker, until it’s time for Case to re-deploy, and then who the hell knows where he and Haven stand.
My eyes roam over the neat porch railing, the richness of the wood complimenting the pine trees surrounding the cul-de-sac, towering way above the small slanted roof, until you’re looking up so high that you can almost see the Phoenix Falls mountains.
I don’t know the names of all of them but I do know a few, and even though the snowfall is imminent I might take a drive up the passes before it hits.
I want to see what I’ve been missing for the past decade and a half.
Which reminds me.
I purse my lips and slide my eyes over to Casey’s truck, an enormous black Ford that’s perfect for Phoenix Falls winters.
The kind of car that even I’ll be able to drive safely in.
I pick up my bag and give the truck a little pat on the roof.
“Don’t worry, buddy. You’ll be in safe hands.”
Or, at least, what Casey doesn’t know can’t hurt him.
Now I just need to find his car keys.
I lift the hem of my dress as I walk up the porch steps, the sharp brown points of my cowgirl boots just visible in my peripheral vision. Then when I reach the top, I slip my hand into my jacket pocket, pulling out the key to Casey’s cabin as I glance at the love-seat beside the front door.
Whether or not Casey and Haven are currently in their off-again period, there isn’t a freaking chance that I’m going anywhere near that love-seat.
I tentatively nudge the love-seat away from me with the toe of my cowgirl boot and then, with one gentle motion, I push open the front door.
I lean one shoulder against the jamb, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips, and I give the inside a brief once-over.
“Oh Casey,” I whisper to myself, “you really are my brother, aren’t you?”
The interior of the bungalow is stunning varnished wood, and the open-plan entrance is furnished in rich browns and deep navies. There’s a fireplace set on the left side and a deep coffee-brown couch right in front of it, and there are a couple of framed photos of Casey and Haven on the mantle.
I smile at that. He’s such a softie.
I glance toward the right to check out the kitchen, and then I note the three doors in the back – the master bedroom, the bathroom, and then finally, the guest room.
I also note through the back porch window that there’s a huge tarp covering half of the grass, so God knows what Case was up to back there before he left for deployment a couple of months ago.
I swipe the blonde curls from out of my face and toss my carry-on in the direction of the kitchen, only keeping my lightweight MacBook tucked safely beneath my arm.
Do not go and look under that tarp, Sunday. We’re facing one problem at a time.
I set my MacBook on the coffee table, and shrug out of my furry jacket as I open the video call app, pulling off my cowgirl boots one at a time while shooting wary glances at the tarp behind the back porch.
What the heck could be going on under there?
I pick up my trusty boots and set them beside Casey’s front door, swiping the mail from his welcome mat as I wait for him to call me.
I glance casually through the envelopes until I find the one that I was looking for, breathing out a quiet exhale as I mull over what Casey has got himself into.
Because, when it comes down to it, the reasons why I’m about to hide out in Casey’s cabin for the winter are twofold.
Aside from the chaos that just happened to my life in Nashville? The real reason why I’m in Phoenix Falls is hidden inside this envelope.
I mean, Casey had to have known that I would have found out about it.
As the former CEO and manager of the most-loved bar in Nashville, more than half of my job was keeping on top of our accounts.
Which is probably why Casey entrusted me with his accounts, and as soon as I saw his last statement I knew that something had to be done.
Child support and bills alone have never made that big of a dent in his savings before.
One thing at a time , I remind myself gently, feeling warmth spread through my chest as the familiar sound buzzes from my laptop.
I smile and quickly pad back over to Casey’s cosy couch, tucking my legs beneath my butt as I lean forward and answer the call.
It takes a moment for the line to connect and then Casey Wells is looking back at me.
“Hey, soldier,” I say softly, smiling as his surly face glances up at me from the screen.
He shifts quietly on his seat, his broad shoulders blocking out the background behind him, and he tries to get comfortable after a painfully long day on base.
He sighs quietly, hunches forward, and then says, “Hey, little scoop.”
And hearing that deep, quiet voice saying the nickname he gave me when we were kids – ‘little scoop’ because I was shorter than him, and as sweet as a scoop of ice cream sundae – is almost enough to bring tears to my eyes. But I rub quickly over my heart, willing away the sting of how much I truly miss him.
He’s been in the military for almost two decades now and, secretly, I’ve been hoping that he’ll start to think about retiring.
I readjust my legs on his couch, smacking a cushion behind my back so that I can get comfy.
Casey watches me for a moment in silence and then suddenly blinks in surprise.
“Is that… my couch?” he asks disbelievingly, leaning forward as his tan brow creases.
He already knew that I was hauling ass out of Nashville, but where I was going to hadn’t exactly been discussed.
“Um, maybe,” I admit. “Unless you don’t want me staying here, of course.”
He immediately shakes his head, his frown deepening as he watches me.
“Of course you can stay, Sunday. Stay as long as you need. Just need to know when you plan on telling me exactly what happened down in Nashville.”
“Do you have time now?” I ask, feeling a little shy all of a sudden. And there have only ever been two guys who have had that effect on me.
One being Casey, because he’s so protective.
And two…
My lashes flutter against my cheeks as I pretend to inspect my pretty baby blue nail polish.
The only other guy who I felt safe enough to be vulnerable around left the small town of Phoenix Falls exactly one year before I did.
And knowing the path that he’d chosen for himself is exactly why I never came back.
It’s one of the two huge reasons why I left in the first place.
Because there’s nothing more heart-wrenching than waiting around for someone who – through his own humbling selflessness – might never make it back home to you.
Casey breathes in a deep inhale, giving me a patient nod as I glance up at him.
“For you?” he replies. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”
“Okay,” I breathe out, smoothing my hands over my dress as I psych myself up to explain what the heck happened in Nashville. “So there’s good news, and there’s bad news,” I admit, a little more confident than before.
Casey’s right eye subtly twitches but he nods again, dropping his forearms on the table in front of him as he waits for my explanation.
“Already can guess the good news,” he rumbles. “Just give it to me in order.”
I hold my breath for a second and then the truth explodes out of me.
“I sold the bar,” I say quickly, my voice light with nerves as I rip off the Band-Aid.
Casey’s intense eyes soften and a hint of pride dents the deep hollow of his tan cheek.
“It was time,” he says gently, knowing how much of a big deal the bar was to all of us. For him. For me. For our mom and our step-dad.
Mom had moved with me to Nashville once I graduated high school, but now she’s in Montana living at a ranch with some of her closest friends nearby.
She had zero intentions of moving on after Cash, but she knew that she needed a change of scenery. So when she was offered the job over in Montana I’d encouraged her to go.
Plus, it’s not so far from Phoenix Falls, and I know it makes her feel closer to Cash.
So whenever she wants to reconnect with him, she just goes to the lake and looks up at the stars.
And similarly, I had never intended to sell the bar, but the timing of everything was inexplicable. I’d woken up one morning and I just knew it was the right thing to do, and then the next day one of my best friends suggested it to me out of the blue.
My two closest friends in Nashville are naturally both country music singers, and when Colbie told me she was interested in buying the bar I could barely believe the coincidence. I was thinking of moving on, she was thinking about moving in, and I had always been able to trust her so I knew she was the person to take it over.
Sweet, smart, and strong – I couldn’t think of a better owner for Cash’s Bar.
“Colbie bought it,” I tell Casey. “And she’s going to keep it exactly as it is.”
“That’s amazing, Sunday,” he rumbles, and after hesitating he adds, “Proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I laugh, teasingly rolling my eyes when he ducks his head, his cheeks immediately blushing crimson after showing a hint of emotion.
I shake my head and smile. Case is a huge freaking softie.
And when I say huge? I mean, six-five huge.
“So that’s the good news,” I continue. “Because I sold the bar for, like…” I make my eyes go wide, emphasising the kind of figure that got transferred into my bank account for that transaction.
Casey nods his head, his jaw briefly flexing with pride.
“You deserve it,” he murmurs. “Now give me the bad news.”
I search his eyes with mine, embarrassed at how trivial my problems are compared to his.
Except, when money and fame are involved? Your problems stop being trivial and start getting high-stakes way too quickly.
“The day after the deal was made, I got a call from the Nashville Times . They’d got a tip off about the bar – the fact that I’d sold it, and that the price was good. And, usually, that would just be a side-panel piece, because everyone knows how insane the prices are for real-estate in Nashville. But this tip off was personal. It made the story less about the bar and more about…”
Casey watches me in silence, jaw flexing as he waits for me to finish.
“Well,” I murmur, “it made the story about me.”
He lets out a low exhalation and asks quietly, “What about you?”
I look out onto Casey’s back porch, avoiding his piercing eyes.
“Um,” I whisper. “About my affiliation with Riley.”
Casey throws his head back on a groan and I breathe out a laugh as he covers his eyes.
“I told you, Sunday,” he says. “I told you not to get involved with him.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I tell him immediately, rolling my eyes as he continues groaning.
No-one dislikes country music star Riley Dutton more than my brother.
“Riley is not my type, Case, how many times do I have to tell you? I gave him a bar to sing in, and he gave me a country singer to have in my bar. It was a business partnership and a friendship, and we never got involved – that’s why the arrangement worked so well.”
Admittedly, it wasn’t without Riley trying to make something happen. But I stated it from the outset that my intentions were purely business. Being friends was just a perk, especially when the music industry can be cut-throat. It’s hard to know who to trust, and Riley was one of my two closest buddies.
That being said, I understand why my brother doesn’t like him. I mean, he’s undisputedly known as the most notorious player in Nashville. But the two of us are just friends, and I have no intentions of changing that arrangement.
The press on the other hand…
“If you weren’t involved with Dutton, what was the Nashville Times trying to push?” Case asks slowly, swiping his hand through his hair, so dark brown it looks almost black.
It’s the most beautiful contrast to his quartz-like eyes.
I blink patiently at my brother, tucking my legs in closer as I wait for him to get it.
He closes his eyes… and I know that he’s got it.
“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs, rubbing his palm down his jaw. “They’re framing you, aren’t they? They’re going to make some huge story out of you. The best bar owner in Nashville having a… relationship with the biggest country music singer.”
I tuck a blonde curl behind my ear and toy with my little ponytail.
“Okay, here’s the thing,” I rasp, getting to the facts. “They have photos that I don’t know how they got, plus some secret mystery source who can apparently fill in all the blanks. Nothing is incriminating, but it’s all total horseshit. Like, Riley and I hung out as business partners and they’re trying to say that we were dating.” I laugh with disbelief. “I would never date a guy who only wears cowboy boots for the aesthetic.”
“Sunday,” Case says sternly. “Not the time for joking.”
I level him with a look. “Casey, I’m not joking.”
Case shakes his head. “So, what’s the fallout if they run the story?”
“All seven million of Riley’s fans hunting my ass out of Nashville.”
Casey watches me closely, and then says, “They ran the story, didn’t they?”
“The Nashville Times didn’t,” I admit.
He lifts his brow. “They didn’t?”
I shake my head. “…But the Nashville Observer did.”
Casey releases a gruff sound, his chest heaving on a deep inhale. “I can’t believe that this happened to you,” he murmurs, the weight of the world on his shoulders.
And I couldn’t believe it either when I read the headline.
Sunday Wells: The Most Wanted Woman in Nashville.
“It’s fine,” I say gently. “It’ll blow over eventually.”
It’s just going to take a little bit more time than usual, considering the fact that Riley’s new album is about to be released.
He literally could not be more famous right now if he tried.
Friends or not, our communication is definitely going to have to pause, but that’s fine by me, especially seeing as I have some important stuff to do at Casey’s.
I peek over at my brother, wondering what on earth he spent all that money on.
“It’ll blow over,” Casey says gruffly, “but we can still sue their city asses, if you want.”
“For what?” I laugh, grinning at his murderous expression.
Like, yes, I hate the idea of having my name in the Observer for anything other than the beautiful bar that I ran for almost half of my life – but being written as Riley’s arm candy isn’t the worst headline in the world. In six months’ time no-one is going to care, because he’ll have been linked to another twenty different women by then. And if they’re anything like his usual type, they might actually enjoy being in the press.
And good for them. But that isn’t the life for me.
“Are you kidding?” Casey asks, and then he lifts a large hand so that he can tick off each point as he states them. “False allegations. Defamation. Malicious intent.” His eyebrow lifts a millimetre. “Need I go on?”
“Well, you are on a roll,” I say, a little tauntingly.
Casey grunts and drops his eyes to the palms resting in his lap.
“You better have deleted that fucker out of your contacts list,” he mumbles.
“Casey,” I laugh, “it’s really not his fault. He can’t help being famous, and I can’t regret being his business partner. We both made lots of money in Nashville. Plus, his music is really fun.”
Casey gives me a sharp look and I tilt my head to the side, smiling affectionately.
“Riley knows that this sucks for me so, like a friend , he advised me to stay off the grid until it passes. He even bought me a new cell phone that no-one else has the number to. The press can’t get to me here, and Riley is going to deflect any questions about me – he’s just going to talk about his music. He gave me his word and…” I shrug. “I trust that.”
Casey grimaces slightly, not looking convinced. “Just stay at my place until the Observer gets a new story,” Case says roughly. Then he flashes me a look. “And let me know if you want me to take care of it.”
I laugh and drop my chin into my palm, knowing exactly how my older brother would ‘take care of it’.
“That won’t be necessary,” I smile, “but thank you for the offer.”
He rolls his shoulders. “You’re welcome. Let me know if you change your mind.”
I glance at the envelope on the coffee table, wondering whether or not I should bring up Casey’s accounts right now.
I purse my lips and decide to skirt around the subject.
“How are things with you?” I ask, peeking up at him from under my lashes.
“Confidential,” Case replies immediately, and I have to physically restrain myself from throwing a cushion at his face on my MacBook.
“Anything that isn’t confidential?” I ask, hiding my smile at his surly expression.
He thinks for a moment and then mumbles, “…Ate four patties last night.”
“You know what,” I laugh, leaning forward to close the laptop lid on my brother’s stubborn face. “Just forget that I asked. I take it back. You can keep all of your ‘confidential’ secrets to yourself.”
Sensing that he’s about to be hung-up on Casey quickly says, “Got something in the cupboard for you.”
I pause and narrow my eyes on him.
Interest: piqued.
“Which cupboard?” I ask warily.
“Kitchen. Above the stove.”
“Hold on,” I tell him, scampering off the couch and jogging to the kitchen. I look over to the still-open laptop and point toward the cupboard I guess he’s referring to. “This one?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
I pull it open.
And my cheeks dimple with a tiny smile.
I pull out the little tub and cradle it against my chest as I walk back toward the living area.
“For me?” I ask, in my gentle little-sister voice.
Casey shifts around and mumbles, “Know how much you like your cocoa.”
He can be so sweet to me that it physically hurts sometimes.
“Case,” I sigh, “you’re the best brother ever. How did you even know I’d be coming over while you were away?”
“Had a feeling about the bar,” he answers. “And… sometimes I buy a tub for you. Just in case.”
I rub my hand over my heart, so grateful to have Casey in my life.
“Anyway, gotta head,” he says, a knocking sound coming through the screen. I watch him twist in his seat, head turning toward the door situated behind him. “I’ll email you when I’m next free.”
“Love you,” I tell him, like I always do before he signs off, and he nods his head, our secret look passing between us.
We learned it the hard way. Every day can be your last.
Make it count.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I love you, too.”
And then he ends the call and leaves me to my own devices.
Alone in his cabin, with the Nashville press hot on my heels, and nothing but a carry-on, my MacBook, and a pair of cowgirl boots.