Chapter 1
1
ALLY
“ F uck.”
The word slipped out as I swiped through the pictures I’d taken earlier that day. I looked at them every which way possible, cropping, enhancing, and even using the photo editing software on my computer.
There was no way around it. No one with two brain cells would conclude I’d found Luke Patrick by looking at these pictures.
I squinted in the darkness at the log cabin up ahead. The lights were on and his gigantic truck was parked in the driveway. I needed a close-up picture, and there was only one way to get that.
With a sigh, I snatched up my purse, shoved my phone inside, and opened my car door. I popped the hood and went around, using a trick my dad had shown me when I was a teenager. I disconnected the battery cable, shut the hood, and then turned and started up the road toward the driveway of Luke’s rental house.
In this town, he was going by Lucas Montgomery. He kept to himself, but most of the guys who lived up in the mountains did. It was especially weird with him, though, because I’d asked around and nobody seemed to know the guy living in the cabin near Rosewood Ridge Park.
His driveway was steep, but I was wearing my best pair of sneakers. I wasn’t in the best shape of my life, but my solid thighs and linebacker hips made tackling a hill like this easy. Especially when I was as pumped with adrenaline as I was now.
“What do you want?”
The male voice came from out of nowhere. Literally nowhere. My heart started pounding even faster as I scanned my surroundings for its source. There had to be someone out here.
I stopped and pointed toward the road. “My car’s broken down.”
As the words flew out of my mouth, though, the flaw in my excuse hit me. I had a cell phone in my purse. Why not wait in my car and call for help?
“I can’t get a signal,” I said.
It wasn’t a lie. I’d tried to send a text to a friend back in Nashville earlier in the day. It said failed until I went back to my guest room at the Rosewood Ridge Retreat Center. Only then did it go through.
“I don’t have a landline,” the voice said.
I’d reached the top of the hill by then. That put me near Luke’s truck.
“Where are you?” I asked, looking around.
Part of me realized I was talking to the top-selling country music artist last year. A guy who had all the women swooning... until he didn’t.
“Back here,” the male voice said. “With the dog.”
I saw it then. The outline of a male behind the fence. The truck was pulled up to it, so I had to lean to the right a little to see him.
I started toward him, then hesitated.
“Is the dog safe?” I asked.
It was a ridiculous question, since the dog would be behind the fence. The guy had me flustered already.
“Larry wouldn’t hurt a flea,” the voice said.
I pushed my feet into motion. Larry? Was that his dog’s name?
As I drew closer, I saw the much smaller form next to him. “Is that a... dachshund?” I asked.
“Chiweenie,” he said. “He’s my guard dog.”
I didn’t know what a Chiweenie was, but he was way too small to guard against much. His entire body seemed to be wagging at the sight of me. But my attention strayed from Larry right away. The man standing at the fence, arms propped on top of it, was definitely Luke Patrick, but he was even hotter in person.
“I’m Ally,” I said. “I’m staying at the retreat center.”
He just stared at me. Beneath the beard, I could make out the hint of a smile. But he was watching me, his eyes on my face as though he was trying to figure something out.
Finally, he looked away and took a deep breath. “Well, as I said, I don’t have a landline, so I can’t help you.”
I couldn’t help but notice he hadn’t taken the bait to introduce himself. That felt intentional, and I couldn’t blame him. He’d obviously walled himself off here, and he wasn’t going to let some damsel in distress mess things up for him.
I stepped back and looked around. “I don’t know what else to do.” I forced a tinge of panic to my voice. “I can’t exactly walk back to the retreat center. And even if I did, I can’t just leave my car parked on the side of the road.”
I turned my gaze back to him then, softening my features in the hopes of preying on his sympathetic side. The guy had a big heart. Anyone who’d listened to one of his songs knew that. And he was crumbling. The steely stare had softened considerably.
He looked down at his chiweenie, then reached for the fence. “Don’t let Larry rush out. He’s a runner.”
I saw what he meant as soon as that gate was open and the dog rushed toward it. I stepped up to block Larry in case he slipped through, but he only seemed interested in greeting me. He wiggled, his tail wagging as I slipped through the slight opening Luke had made.
“This way,” Luke said, gesturing.
Larry and I followed, me sticking to the cobblestones and Larry rushing alongside me. I’d forgotten how nice it was to have a dog around. Growing up, we always had at least one dog. But I traveled so much for work, it didn’t make sense to bring a pet into the mix.
The cobblestones led to a screened-in back porch that overlooked a creek to the left. The trickle of water immediately calmed my racing mind. Water had always had that effect on me.
Luke ascended the three steps and pulled open the door, gesturing for me to enter. I thought about waiting for Larry, but he stood back, wagging his tail like he was waiting for the two of us to go in.
“This dog is trained to let the master of the house lead,” Luke said.
I nodded and walked up the steps and through the door, passing within inches of Luke as I did so. Sparks seemed to ignite in my body, being that close to him. I yearned to lean toward him and let him wrap his arms around me, pulling me against him for a long, passionate kiss.
I nearly tripped at the thought. But I somehow made it over the threshold and into the room, which had a couple of rocking chairs and a loveseat. A guitar sat against the wall between the rocking chairs.
My eyebrows arched. Busted. But I’d need more than a picture of a garage on a back porch to convince the world that the man living in the mountains of East Tennessee was the country star whose name had been on everyone’s tongues for months.
Only after I stepped through the back door and into his kitchen did it occur to me that I was pretty much barging into a stranger’s house. He hadn’t invited me inside. But I didn’t want him to think the guitar had stalled my movements, so getting in here quickly had been my top priority.
“Sorry,” I said.
As I turned, he was entering and stepping aside to allow Larry to wobble his way in. I couldn’t help but smile at the pup. I really needed to get a dog soon.
“Would you like something to drink?” Luke asked.
I lifted my head, my gaze landing on his face. That was when I lost my ability to breathe.
Oh. My. God. He was gorgeous. Not just that, but he had star quality. That certain something that made it tough to take my eyes off him. The camera diluted his good looks, but here, in the light of his kitchen, it was clear why women traveled all over the country to see him in concert.
“No, thank you,” I said, but as I pushed the words past the lump in my throat, I was aware of how parched I was. “Actually, a glass of water would be great.”
He eyed me for another long moment. Only ten feet or so separated us, but it may as well have been ten inches. The electricity in the air between us was tough to ignore. Did he feel it too? Was that why he was staring at me?
All of a sudden, as if he’d just read my mind, he tore his gaze away. He turned to the fridge, pulled open the door, and grabbed a bottled water.
As he started toward me, bottle in hand, my heart started racing. Just the sight of him approaching made me all lightheaded and short of breath.
What was going on with me? I was an entertainment journalist. Yes, I’d resorted to chasing disgraced musicians to the mountains after all my legit jobs dried up, but I was still a pro. Most importantly, I did not get starstruck. Not even when the most beautiful blue eyes ever were trained on my face.
“Living room’s in there,” Luke said.
He thrust the bottle of water toward me. I reached out to grab it and my pinky brushed his thumb. Warmth shot straight to my belly. Or maybe it was below my belly. I didn’t want to think about that.
“Thank you,” I said. He’d yanked his hand back like it had been burned. Did that mean he felt it too?
“Give me your keys.”
I stared at him, not quite comprehending. He wanted my keys? Why?
“I’ll go take a look at your car,” he said.
He held out a hand as though to urge me to hand them over. I hadn’t ever considered, when coming up with my half-baked plan, that he might try to take a look at my car.
“Sure,” I finally forced myself to say.
I reached into my purse and withdrew my keys. As he exited out the back door, I unscrewed the water bottle and looked down at Larry.
“I just hope he’s really bad with car repair,” I told the dog.