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The Girl He Used To Love
Amy Vastine
The past will always be between themHe swore he’d never return home. Then a flat tire lands Dean Presley back in Grass Lake, Tennessee, and he’s forced to confront the woman he left behind. Faith Stratton was once the love of his life. Now her gifted brother could be the rising Nashville star Dean needs for his struggling music label. But it means taking Sawyer away from the horse therapy farm that Faith’s so proud of. That won’t be easy, especially since those old feelings that started all the trouble… Well, let’s just say he can’t go back there, because he doesn’t want to relive the memories of the terrible accident that drove them apart.
The past will always be between them
He swore he’d never return home. Then a flat tire lands Dean Presley back in Grass Lake, Tennessee, and he’s forced to confront the woman he left behind. Faith Stratton was once the love of his life. Now her gifted brother could be the rising Nashville star Dean needs for his struggling music label. But it means taking Sawyer away from the horse therapy farm that Faith’s so proud of. That won’t be easy, especially since those old feelings that started all the trouble... Well, let’s just say he can’t go back there, because he doesn’t want to relive the memories of the terrible accident that drove them apart.
Faith started to laugh, because it was that or cry.
“What are you laughing at?” Dean asked as he fought a smile.
Faith got up on her knees and lifted a muddy hand, smacking it down on his shoulder. “We’re hopeless.”
Dean stared at the new mud print on his shirt. “That’s going to cost you.”
“I’m not scared of you,” Faith said, making a second attempt at standing. “You look more afraid of getting dirty than I do.”
The challenge had been presented, and Dean Presley didn’t back down from a challenge. Faith wasn’t sure how she could have forgotten. Dean used both hands to grab fistfuls of slop.
“Not scared, huh?”
Faith’s heart beat a little faster. If she didn’t move, she’d be washing mud out of her hair for sure.
The twinkle in his eyes reminded her of the boy she once loved.
Dear Reader (#ulink_0ec869a6-c25d-530f-90b9-cfda5e7d193d),
There is nothing more important to me than family. I have two younger brothers whom I have always felt the need to look out for, even as they have grown into men with their own families. So I can relate to Faith Stratton in so many ways. Faith and her brother, Sawyer, have relied on each other since they were little. When their father died and left them in charge of running his horse farm and equine therapy center, their need to watch out for one another only grew stronger.
Dean Presley understands the importance of being there for a sibling, as well. Only, he’s struggling with the guilt of not being there for his sister when she needed him. Twelve years ago, Dean left Grass Lake, Tennessee, with no desire to return. He’d rather stay away than face the reminders of what was lost there. His new responsibility is to his record company, Grace Note Records. And what Grace Note needs is some new talent. Talent that Sawyer Stratton has in spades.
The Girl He Used to Love is a story about knowing not only when to hold on and when to let go, but what to hold on to, as well. I love my brothers, but I know I have to let them make their own way in this world—even if I am the older and wiser big sister.
I hope you enjoy this first story in the Grace Note Records series. It’s bound to be a bumpy ride, but the happy-ever-after is always worth it!
xoxo,
Amy Vastine
The Girl He Used to Love
Amy Vastine
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
AMY VASTINE has been plotting stories in her head for as long as she can remember. An eternal optimist, she studied social work, hoping to teach others how to find their silver lining. Now she enjoys creating happily-ever-afters for all to read. Amy lives outside Chicago with her high school sweetheart turned husband, three fun-loving children and their sweet but mischievous puppy dog. Visit her at www.amyvastine.com (http://www.amyvastine.com).
To my brothers, Andrew and Adam. Always remember that I will be there to pick you up when you fall...but give me a minute to finish laughing!
Contents
COVER (#u307d2c73-9372-5c09-8591-8c55bff0b8ed)
BACK COVER TEXT (#ude3cd880-36d9-57b0-bf55-b2892ed26b26)
INTRODUCTION (#uacc6be54-5178-5615-b8f0-15ce9cab4abe)
Dear Reader (#ulink_47471ef0-04de-5b4d-a019-6609e4fe1b5b)
TITLE PAGE (#u5443e9d3-91f2-5e8e-924e-491842c4d845)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#u2da49083-fcf7-53ea-bd20-b0dddd7aca05)
DEDICATION (#u59a18dd2-1d1e-50db-af5c-f126e7f50e96)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_3465789f-2bae-555d-9adf-249f8676993a)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_a5825a40-69f4-59ee-964f-2af121a63460)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_6162329a-329a-5db4-aab0-55c757f70592)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_211ae2b9-5c1d-5280-a511-a9d47b5b5a83)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_54c35e14-dae7-5458-923d-64e74b03f2ca)
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_b4ddb191-ebf0-5dbc-b36f-033e73db74b8)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_a41bef05-1e23-528b-adca-24e4f05d01f8)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)
COPYRIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_468cef26-ba04-5d16-bb97-b347c27225dd)
LUCK WAS A funny thing. People could be blessed with the good kind and then cursed with a string of the bad. Good luck made people millionaires overnight. It caused paths to cross and lost valuables to be found. The not-so-good kind led to much less desirable endings...like standing umbrella-less on the side of the road with nothing but a cell phone for a flashlight in a torrential downpour that had begun at exactly the same time as the horrific thump-thump-thumping noise coming from the front passenger-side tire.
Dean Presley was fed up with the string of bad luck that had become his reality lately. Not only was he still over an hour away from Nashville but he most definitely had a flat tire.
“Seriously?” he shouted up at the heavens.
Climbing back into his car, Dean would have given just about anything for a towel. He held his phone out until it touched the windshield, desperate for a cell signal. When that didn’t work, he reached back and pointed the phone in the other direction. Still nothing. He might as well have been in the middle of the Smoky Mountains given the complete lack of cell service around here.
He tossed the useless piece of technology in the backseat and turned up the heat, hoping to fight off the chill. He never should have gotten off the highway and taken these deserted back roads, even though he knew them well. He rested his head on the steering wheel. When it rained, it poured. Literally.
The unceasing rain might be the reason there was no one on the road. Dean had gotten off the interstate because of an accident that had shut down all lanes going north. The alternate route had been a blessing at first, but not so much now that he was in need of some help. Tonight was full of shouldn’t-haves, starting with making this trip in the first place.
Driving down to Birmingham to scout a band he’d heard about from a friend had been a complete bust. Maybe the band was having a bad night, but the drummer couldn’t keep the beat and the singer kept forgetting the words. Their lead guitarist was decent but, unfortunately for him, he was doomed to playing hole-in-the-wall bars in Alabama for the rest of his life unless he found new bandmates. Basically, Dean’s time would have been better spent searching YouTube for some undiscovered talent.
Two brightly shining headlights appeared in the rearview mirror. He switched on his hazards, praying the driver would stop, but the sixteen-wheeler whizzed by, spraying the broken-down BMW with water from the flooded road. No one was going to save him.
There was only one thing to do and that was to make a run for it. The sinking feeling in his stomach kept him right where he was, though. It had been a dozen years since he had been back to the place he used to call home. Grass Lake, Tennessee, held too many painful memories. Dean had left the summer before his senior year of college and had never come back. Not even for holidays.
Holidays were the worst.
“In and out,” he said to himself. “Find a phone, call Landon and leave. No one will know you were there.”
A flash of lightning lit up the sky, making him question his sanity. He turned the car off and opened the door.
* * *
“ANY COOKIES LEFT?”
Faith gave Old Man Middleton an apologetic smile. Every Friday night the Sundown Bar and Grill featured one of her alcohol-inspired desserts. “Sorry, Hank. I made Rum and Coke Swirled Shortbread for tonight. Those went pretty fast.”
Hank snapped his fingers as he sat on the stool beside her. “I knew I should have stopped by earlier. That’s what I get for coming for a nightcap instead of an imperative.”
“I think you mean an aperitif,” Faith said, trying hard to hold back her laughter.
“That’s what I said,” Hank asserted. He leaned across the bar. “You sure your brother ain’t got a couple hidden away? I came out in the pouring rain for your cookies.”
Faith shook her head. She’d have to run a special batch of cookies over to his place in the morning to make up for it.
Hank sat back. “Guess I’ll have to settle for the liquid version.”
Faith’s younger brother had already anticipated his order and set the drink down in front of him. Sawyer had a way of meeting people’s needs before they even knew what they needed. It was a gift he had inherited from their father. Faith’s heart ached a little at the thought.
“You got here in time to catch my second set. That’s got to be worth something,” Sawyer said.
For a couple months now Sawyer had spent his weekend evenings tending bar and entertaining the customers with a few songs. Faith had made him promise this little side job wouldn’t interfere with his responsibilities at the farm, and so far, Sawyer had made it work.
“Well, your father used to brag about you playing a mean guitar.”
The Sundown had been their daddy’s favorite place to hang out after a long day on the horse farm. He loved chatting up the other regulars and telling stories that were oftentimes more fiction than fact. Nothing ever brought the guy down.
Nothing except one fatal heart attack that ended his life way too soon.
“If you ask real nice, I bet Sawyer will take a request,” Faith said.
Sawyer shot his sister a look. Faith was sure her little brother didn’t know many tunes from back in Hank’s day, but ever the quick thinker, he offered up a suggestion instead. “Are you a Johnny Cash fan?”
“What does a young man like you know about Johnny Cash?”
“Oh, I’ll show you what I know about Johnny Cash, Mr. Middleton,” Sawyer answered with his trademark grin complete with the dimples that made every woman in Grass Lake swoon. Too bad her brother had no intention of ever settling down. He had dated a few nice girls but never let anyone get too close.
Sawyer checked his hair in the mirrored backsplash and whistled for his buddy to bring him his guitar. Faith moved to the other side of the bar to cover for her brother while he performed. She had to admit, the kid had some talent. He wrote his own songs and played the guitar pretty well for a self-taught man.
Josie Peters leaned against the bar. A widow with a teenage daughter, Josie had moved to Grass Lake a few years ago and used some of the money she had inherited from her late husband’s estate to buy the Sundown. She and Faith had become friends almost immediately.
Josie was the one who’d come up with the idea to feature a drink-and-cookie special Friday nights. She’d begged Faith to help her out after tasting one of Faith’s mudslide brownies at a potluck dinner, and since Faith had difficulty saying no, the treats were now a customer favorite.
“Did you get a look at what just walked in?” she asked, nodding toward the entrance.
The man Josie was ogling must have swum here. That or his clothes had just come out of the washing machine without going through the spin cycle. Faith would have bet that if he took off his shoe, he could fill a glass with the water that was inside.
“He must not be from around here.” The dimly lit bar made it difficult to see his face.
“Maybe I can convince him to change that,” Josie said with a wink.
Every able-bodied, single guy in Grass Lake had been on Josie’s list of potential replacement husbands since she had decided to jump back into the dating pool. She had yet to catch one in her net, so this fresh blood made her absolutely giddy.
Faith couldn’t blame her for staring at the newcomer. His red shirt clung to his chest and when he stepped further in, she could see his dirty-blond hair looked a little darker from being wet than the short, close-cropped beard he was sporting. With great effort, he shoved his hand in his jeans’ pocket and pulled out his phone. The only way that thing was going to work was if its case was waterproof.
