Back To Texas

“The festival’s a pretty big deal here, huh?” The main reason he’d pulled into town had been his growling stomach. He also wanted to test out his new look to see if anyone would recognize him. Bodyguards usually accompanied him and his band when they traveled. Outside of the quick shopping spree he and his sister had made to buy some normal clothes for his trip, this was his first solo performance and he needed to be sure he’d be able to travel incognito. How ironic his “disguise” was his real identity.

Bridgett’s eyes widened and Adam feared he’d already blown his cover. “You’re not a reporter, are you?” She took a step back. “Because I’ve had my fill of those lately.”

Adam inwardly cringed. “A reporter? People have called me many things, but a reporter hasn’t been one of them. Why would I be?”

“Because you answered my question with a question. It’s what they do. And I’ve endured enough questions to last forever.”

Okay, retro girl has a problem with reporters. After countless world tours and the tabloids’ constant fabrications about him and his band, they ranked at the bottom of Adam’s list also.

“No, I’m not a reporter or remotely connected to journalism. What do they want with you?”

“Corrupt mayor, political scandal.” Bridgett quickly broke eye contact, reached into her apron pocket and removed her order pad. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“The sign for the festival caught my attention and I thought I’d check it out. Can you recommend a hotel?”

“New to the area? I haven’t seen you in here before.”

“I’m from Katy. Three hours to the east.” Adam almost flinched at his own answer. When had he last told the truth regarding his hometown? Nine, or, ten years ago—maybe. After that long, he hadn’t expected it to roll off his tongue so easily. Tension usually surrounded the question. This morning it was absent. The fear someone would expose his lie vanished with the truth. If anyone had recognized his “true” identity in the past, his credibility in the industry would have ended. He’d managed to keep the truth from everyone, including his band. The world knew him as The Snake. It was the biographical lie his first manager had created and he’d never been able to escape it. An extremely lucrative persona had grown from that lie, playing on people’s emotions. The orphaned street kid from one of Miami’s roughest neighborhoods, discovered on a corner playing guitar. Only it wasn’t true.

It wasn’t until this last tour when he’d finally came clean with his drummer, Phil, telling his best friend how he actually hailed from Texas. Strangely enough, the story hadn’t surprised Phil. Bogus childhoods weren’t unusual in Los Angeles. But most people hadn’t gone to the extremes Adam had. He’d created a career based upon that lie. If the truth surfaced, Adam knew he’d lose all credibility in the music industry. The products he currently endorsed would take a hit, as well. Why would anyone want to be associated with a man who had not only lied to the world, but also shunned his family in order to make millions of dollars?

“We don’t have much in the center of town, except for the Bed & Biscuit—biscuit as in dog biscuit. Mazie, the owner, caters to people with pets, although oddly enough she doesn’t own one herself. But her sister, Lexi, is an equine veterinarian and... Good heavens, I’m rambling.”

Adam enjoyed the pink tinge flooding Bridgett’s cheeks. Her high ponytail enhanced her long, slender neck. He’d love to loosen those thick honey-red waves and watch them fall down around her shoulders.

Adam caught himself staring at her, neither one of them making a move to speak. Form words, Adam. You’re no stranger to women. He had certainly partaken in his fair share of the opposite sex in his younger days, but none of them had caused his heart to beat like a revolutionary war drum.

“Bridgett!” A voice boomed from the kitchen. “For the third time, order up, table seven.”

“Huh?” Bridgett shook her head and Adam wondered if she’d figured out who he was. “I need to— I’ll be— I—”

“She’ll be with you in a minute. Meanwhile, you can look this over.” The other waitress thrust a menu at him, placed her hands on both of Bridgett’s shoulders and turned her toward the pass-through window. Adam couldn’t hear everything the other woman whispered to Bridgett, but he clearly understood the words, “What the heck is wrong with you?”

Bridgett swatted the woman away when she offered to take his order instead. He’d had women stumble over him before, but this was different. He genuinely didn’t think they knew him from...well...Adam.

“I’m sorry.” She returned, her voice interrupting his thoughts. “Let’s start from the beginning. I’m Bridgett, welcome to Ramblewood.”

She offered her hand. Her skin felt soft as velvet against his callused fingers. Adam wondered if his attraction to her was real or if the sudden freedom to roam where he wished had seduced him. He probably had a ridiculous grin plastered across his face, but he didn’t care.

“Adam. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Not waiting for her answer, he rose slightly on his stool and leaned on the counter, her hand still in his. “Are the boysenberries really local in the Local Boysenberry French Toast?”

Bridgett moved closer to him and whispered, “Yes, and it’s to die for...my personal favorite.”

“Well, on that recommendation—”

The sound of a woman clearing her throat caused them both to look down the counter. The other waitress stood with both arms full of dirty dishes, one eyebrow raised.

Releasing him, Bridgett stood up straight and adjusted her apron. “And this is Lark.”

“Charmed,” Lark grumbled. “Unless you want more gossip floating around, I suggest you two cool it until you find a more private place to ogle each other.”

“More gossip? Involving you?” Adam asked. Could there be more to the reporter story than Bridgett indicated earlier?

“She means small-town gossip in general.” Bridgett may have dismissed the question, but Adam caught the slightly aggravated inflection in her voice. The sidelong glance she shot Lark was a clear message for the other woman to shut up. “Where were we? Oh, yes, the French toast. A local farmer grows and cold-pack cans the boysenberries so we have them year-round. Maggie’s boysenberry syrup is incredible. And a few of our pastries have a boysenberry filling.”

“Maggie?”

“Maggie Dalton.” Bridgett checked her watch. “She owns the luncheonette, but she ran to the farmers’ market this morning. She should return any minute.”

Bridgett’s green eyes reminded him of the dew-covered clover he’d seen in Ireland last summer. “I’ll have an order with a side of bacon and a coffee.”

“Coming right up.”

Bridgett bounced into the kitchen, her ponytail swinging. Adam swiveled on his stool, checking out the rest of the luncheonette. The complete opposite of the clubs and expensive restaurants he usually frequented. Only a dozen tables and booths filled the narrow space. He’d once enjoyed eating in similar places. Comfortable and cozy. Where everyone knew everyone else. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed those simpler days until now. He’d trade every cent he’d made to have his family back.

The vibration of his cell pulsed in his leather jacket. He tugged it out of the pocket, powered the phone off and tossed it on the counter. Twenty-four hours ago, Adam had knocked on his parents’ door and pleaded for forgiveness. He probably would have gotten further with them if he hadn’t reeked of whiskey and stale cigarettes. The final night of a tour meant an enormous party for the band and crew. In the spirit of the celebration, Adam had drunk more than he should have. He’d celebrated for a different reason...his final show. Period. He’d decided to quit when another fight had broken out between the bass guitarist and drummer minutes before hitting the stage. Tempers and egos had reached a boiling point and they hadn’t discussed future projects in ages.

As the band’s front man, Adam knew he needed to let them and their management in on his decision. But he’d rather do it in person. He’d bailed early on last night’s party. Houston had been their final concert—an hour away from his hometown. The fact that he had to be assisted by the limo driver to climb out of the car should have been his sign to wait another day or two. But he couldn’t wait. He had wanted to share his decision with his parents first. When he’d rung their bell at four in the morning, his mother had appeared in the sidelight window next to the door. She hadn’t recognized him until he’d shouted, “Mom, it’s me” loud enough for her to hear. Adam had placed his palm on the glass. Slowly she’d lifted hers, matching his on the other side of the window. She’d held his gaze. The longing and loss etched into her face had broken his heart. Squeezing her eyes shut, she’d mouthed his name and disappeared from view.

He had repeatedly rung the bell, calling to her. He’d stopped when he heard the deadbolt unlock. His father had swung the door wide, stormed onto the portico and demanded that Adam leave before someone overheard him and called the police. He’d thrown in a “have you looked at yourself in the mirror” followed by the crushing blow “you’re no longer a part of this family.” When Adam had tried to explain he wanted to move home to Katy, his father had cut him short, reiterating that he needed to leave.

Adam’s jaw clenched at the memory. When he’d arrived at his sister Lizzy’s, she’d been waiting for him, tipped off by their parents. She’d had no choice but to let him in since he owned the house she lived in. Adam had purchased it two years ago, after Lizzy’s ex-husband had beaten the crap out of her. The home was tucked away in a gated community boasting its own security guards. Adam had added an alarm system rivaling Fort Knox to ensure her safety.

It had irked his parents how he’d provided for Lizzy. Especially when they’d offered her a place to live on their small ranch. Her violent marriage and the traumatic end to her career because of those injuries had almost been too much for Lizzy to bear. Moving in with their parents would have been the final blow to Lizzy’s pride. And although Adam had arranged for a generous bank account for Lizzy to draw on if she needed, she hadn’t touched a dime of his money.

He’d still been dressed in his fetid stage leathers, and Lizzy had demanded he shower before she’d permitted him to sit on any of the furniture. She had thrown his clothes in the trash can outside and had given him a pair of sweats and a T-shirt her new boyfriend had kept at the house. Determined to convince his family he wasn’t the terrible person they’d presumed he was, Adam had asked his sister to transform him physically into someone more socially acceptable.

Lizzy may not have approved of his choices, but she’d stood by him when no one else had. She’d offered to explain Adam’s decision to their parents while he wrapped up things in Los Angeles. He dreaded the fallout from management and his fans. But if he wanted his family to take him seriously, he needed to make real changes and put an end to the lies.

“Cream and sugar?” Bridgett interrupted his thoughts.

Adam swiveled to face the counter. “Yes, thank you. I guess I’ll need a dog to stay at the Biscuit Shack. Have one I can borrow?”

“Bed & Biscuit.” The corners of her mouth lifted. “The Biscuit Shack’s on Highway 87 in Boerne—great food. It wouldn’t matter even if you had a dog because it’s booked solid this weekend.”

“Order up.” Bert called from the kitchen.

Bridgett set the breakfast platter in front of Adam, along with a small stainless steel pitcher of boysenberry syrup. He poured it over the berry-filled toast. Bridgett propped an elbow on the counter, waiting for him to take the first bite. Normally he’d have been self-conscious of someone watching him eat, but the aroma of warmed berries and bacon beckoned. He lifted the fork to his mouth and winked at Bridgett. Then the euphoria set in.

“This is the best French toast I’ve ever had.” And he’d tried various countries’ versions of it throughout his travels. Adam closed his eyes and savored another bite. “It’s incredible. Put in another order for me, because one won’t be enough.”

Bridgett slipped a pad from her pocket and wrote another ticket. “Just don’t make yourself sick,” she cautioned. “I’ll put it in now. I have to check on my other customers, but I’ll be back.”

Adam ate the rest of his meal, reveling in his anonymity. He could adjust to this. The physical and mental exhaustion from traipsing the globe for almost a decade had left him craving a simpler existence. Ramblewood may not have been a planned stop, but he needed a vacation from stardom and a chance to regroup before he announced to the world that his life had been one giant lie. Besides, no one would think to search for him in the sleepy Texas town.

He’d have to be careful not to get too close to the beautiful waitress, though. There was no sense pulling an unsuspecting person into the mess his life had become, especially if she was trying to avoid the media.

Chapter Two

“I can’t remember when I last saw a smile on your face.” After her shift at the luncheonette, Bridgett had beelined for the inn. Mazie stopped chopping onions long enough to contemplate the favor being asked of her. “If Adam is responsible for it, I guess there’s no harm in him staying here.”

Bridgett flattened her lips, sucking them inward to hide the goofy smile threatening to expose her excitement. “Thank you, Mazie.”

She fought the urge to hug her friend. Heck, she barely believed she’d had the grit to ask that Mazie rent Adam the room reserved for out-of-town family. She still hadn’t figured out what had prompted her to be so brazen, especially since the room was just down the hall from hers. That thought alone caused her stomach to do a few somersaults.

Although the town of Katy was three hours away, it was still close enough for them to see each other again after the Harvest Festival. If he wanted to. Why it even mattered baffled her. She hadn’t planned to stick around town much longer herself. Then again, maybe she’d add Katy to her job-search locations.

Mazie’s smile tightened before she returned her attention to the chopping board. “Please be careful. You’ve been through quite a bit and I don’t want to see you jump at the first guy you meet as a way to forget what’s happened. Whether this man’s here or not, you still need to deal with your family.”

“My eyes are wide open.” Bridgett grabbed a fallen dish towel from the floor and tossed it onto the counter. “He needs a room for the weekend and I’ve no intention of running away with him. Although, who’d blame me for wanting to ditch this town.”

Mazie stilled her knife, looking at Bridgett. “You and I have watched out for each other since the day we first met in pre-school. I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t say your interest in this man worries me. There are plenty of hotels with vacancies outside of Ramblewood.”

“Please don’t feel obligated.” Bridgett poked her head out of the kitchen wanting to ensure Adam hadn’t wandered in and overheard their conversation. “If you’re uncomfortable with him staying here, I understand.”

Mazie added the onions to a large, blue-and-white speckled enameled pan. “We’re having roasted ratatouille and goat-cheese-stuffed crepes tonight. I’ll set an extra place at the table for Adam.”

Bridgett couldn’t help grinning, and her body tingled in anticipation. With Adam staying down the hall from her, maybe they’d be able to spend some time together.

“Well don’t stand here.” Mazie waved her away. “He’s waiting outside, isn’t he?”

Bridgett blinked rapidly. “Oh. Right.” She spun to leave. “Thanks again, Mazie.”

“And don’t run off to Vegas and get yourself hitched.” Mazie still held a tiny grudge against her sister for eloping last year, although she’d never admit it aloud. Lexi’s elopement had stunned Mazie, along with the rest of Ramblewood. But it hadn’t compared to the snub she’d felt when she’d found out Lexi had asked Bridgett to be the maid of honor. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision—Lexi hadn’t meant to hurt her sister.

Bridgett tried to tamp down her excitement as she walked to the front porch, where she’d asked Adam to wait. She may be desperate for a distraction, but she wasn’t desperate for a man. She pushed open the screen door. “Adam, I—” Where was he? And where was his truck? He’d parked it at the curb in front of the Bed & Biscuit earlier.

Disappointment tore through Bridgett. Heaviness in her chest replaced the tingling sensation she’d experienced moments earlier. She had permitted herself a small piece of happiness and as quickly as it’d come, it had vanished.

A voice called out to her when she headed inside. “I asked him to move.” Bridgett turned toward the street. One of Ramblewood’s men in blue stood on the other side of the front gate. “The weather’s supposed to remain nice tonight and the festival vendors decided to set up early. His truck was in the way, so I asked him to move it to the side lot.”

Bridgett let out a huge breath and sagged against the porch railing. She had no right to feel relief, disappointment or any emotion for a man she’d met hours ago. Not for a stranger passing through town. Mazie’s words echoed through her head. Bridgett’s first instinct had been to take a gamble on a new life and love, just as her sister had. Abby had managed to snag a fiancé, find her dream job and move half way across the country in under a month. If she had the opportunity to begin again in a new town, she’d jump at it. One way or another, she needed out of Ramblewood. And who knew, maybe after getting to know a little more about Adam, Bridgett would be glad he was moving on. Or, maybe she’d want more...

“Thank you.” Bridgett waved goodbye to the officer and straightened some of the potted flowers along the porch. She’d waited patiently for Mr. Right. Of course, it was too soon to know where Adam fit into the mix. When Bridgett experimented with a new dish, she tried different ingredients to test how they tasted together. Sometimes she had a hit, other times a flop. Relationships weren’t any different. Bridgett had stopped dating after her last boyfriend, not wanting to risk another disappointment. But Adam was a new ingredient in Ramblewood. And she welcomed the opportunity to explore the possibilities.

* * *

ADAM POCKETED HIS keys as he approached the inn’s front porch. Unnoticed, he watched Bridgett rearrange various fall plants. His mother would be able to rattle off every plant’s common name along with its genus and species. To him, they were just puffy flowers. Mums possibly, but he couldn’t be certain. His mother had a passion for horticulture, but she’d never treated it as more than a hobby. Adam had once promised his mother he would build her a huge nursery so she could run the business she’d always envisioned. She’d laughed off the prospect and Adam knew she hadn’t taken him seriously. When he’d stumbled upon the sketches she’d tucked away in a drawer, he’d vowed to make her dreams a reality. And he would have, except for one problem. By the time he’d acquired the financial security to give his parents anything they desired, they’d already disowned him.

It wasn’t just his band’s notoriety for destroying hotel rooms or the leaked cell-phone photos of him with a certain centerfold. Adam hung his head as he remembered the time he had attempted to explain the pictures to his family. The groupies appalled his mother, although Dad had once hinted that he was a bit jealous of his son. Lizzy said his parents had questioned the tabloid rumors about his supposed drug addiction and a reported sex tape, and even if they had been true, they might have moved past it. When he didn’t fly home after Lizzy’s ex put her in the hospital or when his father had a heart attack, he’d sealed his own fate.

Adam’s gut clenched at the thought. It shouldn’t have mattered where he was touring. He could have postponed the shows...but he hadn’t. With that, and the way he’d misrepresented his upbringing, refusing to acknowledge their existence, he couldn’t blame them for disowning him.

The Snake’s persona claimed he had bounced from one foster home to another, barely remembering his mother. Some reports suggested she was a prostitute, others said she had died. Either way, it hadn’t sat well with his parents. He’d even given interviews about his hatred for his parents and how they had better not show up asking for a handout.

Adam’s hands fisted. It was an act. An image created to sway the public into believing good could come from bad. None of it was true. Adam had hated the idea from the start. But that hadn’t stopped him from going along with it. All connections to Texas vanished with his new name and look. The country-singer hopeful had become a hard-core rock star.

Adam raked a hand through his freshly shorn hair. The plan had drifted off course. The country labels thought his edgy songs and playing style pushed the genre too much and suggested he either dial it back or head in the hard rock direction. He wouldn’t allow anyone to stifle his creativity. Toning it down wasn’t an option. Amping it up was.

The money and fame had been amazing at first, but it had come at an enormous expense. His first manager had only seen dollar signs when he’d created Adam’s image. But he’d done his job well, because it had gotten Adam in front of the right record labels. When he’d formed his backup band, Adam had kept the facade. Feeling they could do better, the band had collectively fired their manager and hired a new management company. They’d signed a five-album deal within three months. Their big break had arrived and Adam had told his new manager the truth, wanting to end the lies before it cost him more than it already had. But the record label wouldn’t budge. They’d bought the entire package and feared they’d lose too much money if Adam’s innocuous Texas upbringing was revealed. A booking agent had scored them a world tour and Adam hadn’t wanted to risk losing it.

Adam shook his head. There had been ways out of it. He could have easily let it slip in an interview. A random post on any of his social media accounts would have fed the flames enough to get everyone talking. But he hadn’t. He’d loved the fame. Loved the money. And he had assumed if he waved enough of it at his family, they’d understand. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

He understood why they’d given up on him and why the Katy townsfolk ignored him when he occasionally drifted into town to visit Lizzy. It hadn’t been often. A handful of times in ten years. Adam wasn’t sure how to win their trust again, but he knew he needed to make some major changes and Ramblewood seemed like a great place to start. Maybe now he could focus on his dream of opening the music school he’d been planning for years.

“There you are.” Bridgett leaned over the railing “I should have told you to use the side parking area earlier.”

“No biggie.” The late afternoon sun cast a soft, warm radiant glow upon Bridgett, almost ethereal. He knew he should stay away from her. Wasn’t that what he’d told himself at the restaurant? But he was drawn to her. Hadn’t been able to resist asking her to help him find somewhere to stay. Bridgett intrigued him.

She may be leery of reporters, but she still maintained a cheery attitude toward her customers.

He’d wandered around town for a while waiting for Bridgett’s shift to end. He’d met a few people, visited some of the shops and even caught himself smiling in a storefront window. Ramblewood reminded him of home...his real home. He could envision himself rebuilding his life here. Maybe he still had a chance of moving back to Texas.

Adam made a habit of taking each once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that came his way. Sometimes they panned out, but usually they had gotten him into a hell of a lot of trouble. This—Ramblewood—was different and real. For once, Adam vowed to follow his heart instead of doing whatever his people told him to do.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to head back to your truck.” Bridgett glanced down at her white Keds and sighed.