Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Cassie
I finish getting ready a few minutes early and decide to wait for Austin in the reception area of the B&B. The royal-blue tea dress stops at my knees and looks surprisingly cute with my cowboy boots—just as well since, aside from my trainers, they’re the only shoes I brought on this trip.
“You look lovely, dear,” Esther tells me, coming out from behind the reception desk. “Big plans with Austin tonight?”
I laugh. “Does the whole town know?”
Esther bobs one shoulder. “That’s Pine Grove for you—the phone signal may be spotty, but the gossip chain always has bars.”
She’s not wrong about the reception. Luckily for me, I get great signal in the B&B, but there are a couple of spots in town that I don’t get any. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Oh, your young man is here.” She nudges me towards where Austin now stands just inside the doorway.
He always looks good, but tonight it’s obvious that he’s taken the time to put a little extra effort into his appearance, and damn, it’s paid off.
He’s traded out his usual dark-blue jeans for a smart black pair, turned up at the ankles to show off a pair of freshly polished black lace-up boots.
The forest-green shirt he wears doesn’t have a single wrinkle, and the colour brings out his eyes beautifully.
His sleeves are rolled up to reveal toned forearms that are sprinkled with a light dusting of freckles, and his beard is freshly trimmed.
In short, he looks so good that I wonder if we really need to go out for dinner when we could go back to his place instead.
“Wow, you look…” Austin trails off, eyes drinking me in.
“It’s OK?” I ask, fiddling with one of the covered buttons that keep the dress fastened on my left side.
“More than,” he breathes. “You look beautiful—you always do, but this is…” He trails off, unable to find the words.
I guess Mei was right. Smiling, I slide my hand into his outstretched palm, letting him lead me out to his car. “In case it wasn’t obvious from my staring, I think you look great, too.”
The restaurant is on the other side of town, closer to the fancier B&Bs, and Pine Grove’s one large hotel.
I even spot a sign indicating there’s a golf course only a couple more miles down the road.
No thanks. There’s a small parking lot behind the restaurant, and Austin easily finds a space before coming around the car to open my door for me.
The building housing the Italian restaurant is painted white, with ivy growing up the sides.
The windowpanes are made up of diamond-shaped pieces of glass, and soft light spills through them onto the pavement.
Austin gets the door for me, and the moment I step inside, I’m met with a wave of mouthwatering aromas.
A host wearing an open-collared white shirt with a black waistcoat leads us to a table tucked away in the back corner.
I pull out my chair before anyone can get any ideas, and Austin chuckles as if he knows what I’m thinking.
Maybe he does. Considering how we started, I’ve been pleasantly surprised to discover we think quite similarly.
The intimate table for two is decorated with a simple white tablecloth, a small votive candle, and a white ceramic bud vase containing a single red rose.
It’s cute and classy without feeling stuffy or pretentious.
We ordered from the set menu, and I’m convinced the carbonara before me was created by some kind of magic wielder rather than an ordinary chef. “You have to try a bite of this. It’s so good,” I say, twirling a few strands of spaghetti around my fork and offering it to Austin.
Instead of taking my fork like I’m expecting, he leans across the table and uses a gentle hand on my narrow wrist to guide the tines to his mouth. I watch entranced as he takes a bite, the tip of his tongue flicking out to capture a stray speck of sauce.
“Mmm. Not bad.” He settles back in his seat. “I think my ragù is better, though.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “No way. This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.” Austin quirks an eyebrow. Rolling my eyes, I reply, “Oh, don’t even. You know what mean.”
He shrugs. “It’s good, but it’s a bit rich for me. Would you like to try mine?”
“Sure.”
Austin nudges his shallow bowl towards me so I can grab a bite. The tomato-based sauce is excellent, and I make a soft sound of approval. “Delicious.” Sliding the dish back towards him, I tease, “Still not as good as mine though.”
For dessert, we order a slice of tiramisu to share and, for the first time, I indulge myself without having to shove Miranda’s voice scolding my lack of discipline to the back of my mind. This time I don’t hear her at all.
“What made you start writing songs?”
Popping the bite of dessert on my fork into my mouth, I buy myself time to consider my answer.
I’m so relaxed in Austin’s company that it would be all too easy for me to slip and share something I shouldn’t.
“I don’t know that it was any one thing.
Music’s been part of my life for as long as I can remember.
I think I wrote my first song when I was eight. ”
Austin’s eyebrows shoot up. “So young?”
“Don’t get me wrong—it was terrible.” I laugh at the memory of crafting it in my bedroom then, too excited by the first verse and chorus, proudly coming downstairs to play it for my mother before it was finished.
My laughter fades when I remember Miranda told me not to waste her time with something until it was perfect.
After that, I kept writing but didn’t share another song with her until I was twelve and performed an original in my school’s talent show.
That’s when Miranda took my interest in music seriously—after teachers and other parents congratulated her on having such a talented daughter. When she realised I might be useful.
“I was just another kid with big dreams who wanted to write songs that made people feel something. Now I keep writing even though nobody cares about the songs I come up with.” My lack of solo songwriting credits on my latest album is proof of that.
“I care. The original song you performed at Bowman’s—it was as heart-breaking as it was beautiful.”
“Thank you.” His praise for one of the many songs I was forbidden to include on my latest album stitches closed one of the many wounds in my heart.
“Who is it about? The song, I mean.” Shadows must darken my expression because he’s uncharacteristically quick to offer me an easy out. “You don’t have to tell me.”
I wave off his concern. “I know, it’s fine. It’s about a few people, but mostly my mother.” Her, my record label, the strangers on the internet who judge my every move.
Austin already knew I have a complicated relationship with my mother, but I can see in his eyes that it’s now dawning on him how bad things between us really are. He covers my hand with his where it rests on the white tablecloth. “I’m sorry.”
I flip my palm up so that I can give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s OK. At least I got a good song out of it, right?” An inappropriate giggle parts my lips, and Austin’s low chuckle joins in a second later.
As our laughter subsides, I decide to steer the conversation into lighter territory. “What started your weekly game nights with the guys? Did you all grow up together or?”
Austin shakes his head. “Only Francis, Reggie, and I grew up here. They were both ahead of me in school, so we didn’t really cross paths until we were all adults. Jer introduced me to them last summer. Before that, I was a bit of a workaholic loner.”
I mock gasp, laying a hand on my heart. “You, a loner? I don’t believe it.”
He rolls his eyes. “Alright, laugh it up.”
“So you’ve known them all for a year?”
“Not Dev, he only came to town three months ago. He’s the newest addition to Pine Grove after you. If you stay, I mean.”
Softening my voice, I reply, “I knew what you meant. I’m glad you have such a good group of friends. I’ve not spoken to Dev much, but they all seem great.”
“Yeah, they’re a solid bunch.” He takes a sip of water. “You seem to be getting on well with Mei and her group?”
Nudging my glasses up the bridge of my nose, I agree, “I am. They’ve all been so welcoming. I didn’t have many friends before coming here.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true. I had one kind of friend in Nashville,” I say, thinking of Ant. “My only real friends were here. Well, not here—Liam and Bailey live in London.”
His expression sharpens as something dawns on him. “Liam, as in your fake reference?”
“You caught me.”
Austin’s head falls back with the force of his uninhibited laughter. “Of course he is. Something tells me this isn’t the first time you’ve been partners in crime?”
I think back over the course of our friendship, particularly August 2023. “You’re not wrong, but we usually stay out of trouble.” Unfortunately, sometimes trouble—and paparazzi—finds us.
“So, if Liam was never your boss, how did you meet?”
“Believe it or not, we did actually work together a few years ago in Nashville before he moved back to England.” Not wanting to give details on what that work was, I power on.
“I met Bailey through him after they started dating. They only got together on their trip here last Christmas, but Liam’s had feelings for her for so long.
By the time we met, I’d already heard so much about Bailey that it felt like I already knew her.
She’s awesome—they both are. I’ll enjoy getting to see them more often if I move here for real. ”
“We’ll all be lucky to have you if you decide to stay.”
Even though I’m more committed to staying here long-term with every day that passes, I’m not quite ready to make it official yet.
I want to share my secret with Austin before I tell him I plan to stick around for good.
I don’t want to get his hopes up thinking I’m offering one thing only to pull the rug from under him by revealing I’m famous.
The situation is already complicated enough.
While I know I need to tell him the truth soon, we’re still getting to know each other.
Selfishly, I want more time to be just Cassie with him.
There’s a very real chance he won’t look at me the same way after I tell him the truth.
That’s a reality I’m not prepared to face yet but, even if Austin ends things after I reveal my secret, I can see myself staying in Pine Grove.
The girls will be upset at first, but I don’t think they’ll hold my deception against me.
Even if they do, this place feels like home, and it’s a chance to be closer to Bailey and Liam.
Ignoring the twist of guilt in my gut, I scoop up another bite of tiramisu and lean forward to feed it to Austin, not above flirting to distract him. Soon. I’ll tell him soon.
After paying the bill, Austin guides me back to the car. It’s a mild night and we’re leaving early enough that it isn’t dark yet, but I still enjoy the warmth of his palm against the small of my back. “Mum is over the moon that you’ve agreed to perform at Bowman’s again.”
“She might have mentioned that once or twice.” Austin groans and I playfully smack his stomach with the back of my hand. “Be nice. It’s sweet that she’s so excited.”
We reach the car and I lean against the passenger door, using our linked hands to pull him closer. Running my hands over his shirt to rest on his shoulders, I ask, “Is there a reason you haven’t told her you’ll be joining me on stage?”
His expression turns sheepish, and he reaches up to cover my hands with his, giving them a light squeeze. “I will.” At my raised brows, he repeats, “I will. A promise is a promise. I just… want to wait until after we’ve done a rehearsal together in case you change your mind.”
My heart cracks over how unsure of himself he sounds.
“Austin.” I step in closer, freeing my arms to wrap them around his waist in a tight hug.
“I’m not going to change my mind about you.
” Our eyes lock, and we both know I’m not just talking about the performance.
“You don’t have work until eleven tomorrow, right?
” He nods and I smile. “Perfect. We’ll swing by the B&B on the way back to yours to pick up my guitar, then we can have our first rehearsal tomorrow morning. Sound good?”
He exhales with relief. “Yeah.”
“No more worrying.” I tell him, my voice soft but stern. “We’ve got almost three weeks to prepare. I promise it will all be OK.”
The corners of his mouth tilt up in a small smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a teacher.” Clocking my puzzled expression, he explains, “It’s the way you break down a problem until it doesn’t seem so daunting without sounding patronising.”
“I’ve talked down my fair share of nervous performers, that’s all. Hell, even I still get nervous sometimes.”
“Really?” he asks, clearly sceptical.
I laugh. “Really. Before the first show of my last t—” I cut myself off with a fake cough, heart racing over my nearly disastrous slip-up.
An accidental reveal in the middle of a car park is absolutely not how I plan to come clean to Austin.
“Sorry, I mean before my first show, I puked because I was so nervous. It wasn’t pretty.
” The truth is that’s happened before the first night of every arena tour I’ve done.
The weight of everyone’s expectations and the fear I’ll fail to meet them gets to me every time without fail.
“You didn’t get sick before singing at Bowman’s though, did you?” He asks, full of concern.
“No,” I assure him. “I was nervous, but I managed.” I rise onto the balls of my feet to kiss him. “We’ll do this together, OK?”
“OK,” Austin agrees, before capturing my lips with another kiss, sealing the promise. “Let’s go grab your guitar so I can take you home.” He runs his hand over the trio of buttons on my side. “I’ve been thinking about unwrapping this dress all night.”
With an exaggerated gasp, I clutch my non-existent pearls. “I’m scandalised.”
Austin smirks, leaning around me to open my door. His lips brush against the shell of my ear as his voice drops low with a filthy promise, “Not yet you aren’t—but you will be.”
A shiver of desire runs through me. Yeah, it’s definitely time to go home.