Walking on Sunshine

PRAISE FOR LUANN MCLANE’S CRICKET CREEK NOVELS

ALSO BY LUANN MCLANE

SIGNET ECLIPSE

Acknowledgments

1

“RUSTY, GET BACK HERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE!” MATTIE shouted at her brother’s Irish setter, but he bolted from the kitchen with the slab of country ham dangling from his chops. “I mean it!” Mattie rushed after Rusty, knowing full well that he wasn’t about to stop. Although the meat could no longer be served to her customers, Mattie felt the need to scold the naughty dog and deprive him of his prize. She also felt the need to scold her brother Mason for leaving Rusty with her again while he went fishing. Apparently Rusty, who used to be quite the docile dog while riding in Mason’s bass boat, now felt the sudden urge to jump in the water without warning.

“I swear I’m never saving you a bone ever again!” Fuming, Mattie dodged tables and chairs while chasing Rusty around the dining room, glad that the restaurant wasn’t open for breakfast just yet. For an old dog, Rusty still managed some impressive speed and agility, but this was the second ham heist this week, so Mattie was determined to catch him. Country ham and biscuits was a popular item on the breakfast menu! When Rusty headed for the big booth in the back of the dining room, Mattie threw caution to the wind and did a half dive, half slide across the hardwood floor, hoping to snag him around his haunches and bring him to the justice he so richly deserved . . .

And came up with nothing but air.

With a groan, Mattie pounded her fists on the floor. She pictured Rusty doing a wheezy doggy laugh while munching on the salty slab of ham. “I’m gonna tell on you!” Mattie threatened with a bit more fist pounding. After another moment she started pushing up to her feet, but she looked ahead and spotted shoes. Yeah, shoes, not boots. Kinda fancy shoes at that. . . .

“Excuse me. Are you . . . are you . . . quite all right?” asked an unusual male voice that made her pause, putting her in a Pilates plank position.

Two things immediately went through Mattie’s head. Number one was that the question held a measure of concern at her plight rather than the amusement that was usually dealt her way; and number two was that his accent was a distinctively clipped British one rather than a slow, Southern drawl. Mattie quickly scooted to her knees apparently just as he squatted, because suddenly they were eye to oh . . . very blue eyes. She swallowed, staring. The man was simply gorgeous.

“Um . . .” He tilted his shaggy blond head to the side. “Is something amiss?”

“No, I . . . uh . . .” What did he just ask? Her brain suddenly left the building. “Oh, a . . . ham,” she managed, and then realized it sounded as if she were clearing her throat. “H-ham. I was running after the ham.”

“You were chasing after a ham?” He shoved his fingers through his blond hair, making it stand on end.

Mattie had the urge to reach over and smooth it back into its beautiful style. There was something vaguely familiar about him that she couldn’t quite place.

“So the ham ran away, did it?”

“Yes . . . well, no. It was a dog.”

“A dog named Ham? Now it makes sense.”

“What? No . . .” Mattie shook her head hard, making her ponytail swing back and forth.

“Are you quite certain you’re all right?”

“Yes, why do you keep asking that?”

“Well, mainly because you were facedown while pounding your fists on the floor when I walked in. Cause for some concern, I’d say.”

Mattie looked down at her fists. “Oh, right, I guess I was.”

“Early in the day to be so unsettled, don’t you think?” he asked gently. “Is there anything I can do? Search for the runaway ham perhaps?”

“I . . .” It was hard to think when he looked so cute, sounded so, well, so damn sexy. Mattie suddenly felt silly having been caught in her fit of frustration on the floor like some kind of crazy person. Should she admit that she was trying to tackle a dog? Would that be better or worse than chasing a ham? “I . . . I was having a . . . moment.”

“Ah.” He gave her a crooked grin that made a fluttery thing happen in her stomach. Must be hunger pains. “Haven’t had your coffee yet? I can sympathize. You’d best serve me up a cup or I’ll be joining you in your fist-pounding moment.” He stood up and then reached down to help her to her feet.

Mattie took his offered hand, finding his warm, firm grasp to be so pleasant that she felt reluctant to let go. Realizing that she was clinging to his hand, she masked her lingering hold with an introduction. “I’m Mattie Mayfield, by the way. Welcome to Breakfast, Books, and Bait . . . or BBB for short.” She then gave his hand a firm squeeze as her daddy had taught her.

“Well, thank you for the rather odd but warm welcome, Mattie Mayfield. I am duly charmed and also rather fascinated by the wide range of seemingly unrelated items you have to offer here at BBB.” He looked over to the bags of fishing bait shelved on the far wall. “Are the worms all dead, then?”

Mattie nodded. “Well, no, I mean not dead. Artificial, you know, plastic, mostly used for bass fishing.”

“Ah, and the fish fall for that, do they?” he asked with another boyishly cute grin.

“Oddly, yes.”

He chuckled. “It must be quite the letdown to be lured in by a silly piece of plastic instead of a tasty worm. I’d spit it out straightaway.”

Mattie had to laugh. “Yes, but there’s that tiny complication called the hook.”

“Oh . . . true enough.” He winced. “Ouch. Adding insult to injury and then end up in a frying pan.”

“No, no . . . no.” Mattie scrunched up her nose. “You really don’t want to consume anything caught in the Ohio River.” She waved a hand in the direction of the bait. “This is all mostly for catch and release, for sport and tournaments my brothers host.”

“We?”

Mattie jabbed her thumb toward the window that overlooked the dock. “My family owns Mayfield Marina,” she answered with a measure of pride. For some reason she felt it important that he think she was more accomplished than simply slinging hash and baking biscuits, not that there was anything wrong with an honest day’s work. “So, what can I get for you?” she asked a bit crisply.

He looked past the bait to the rear of the shop where Mattie kept her selection of books. “I think I’ll pass on the bait, but breakfast sounds lovely. And perhaps a book later.”

“Have a seat and I’ll bring you a menu.”

“All right, then.”

Mattie thought he’d opt for a booth, but he followed her to the counter lined with old-fashioned round swivel stools in deep red. Mattie had been serving up breakfast for several years, and her melt-in-your-mouth biscuits were raved about, but she suddenly found herself feeling a bit nervous. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

“So, are you just passing through Cricket Creek and happened to stop down here by the marina?” Mattie asked while pouring strong coffee into a sturdy china mug. When hit with a fit of nerves, Mattie, who was usually a bit on the quiet side, tended to chatter.

He reached for a little plastic tub of cream from the dish she put in front of him. “No, actually I just bought the A-frame cabin right next door.”

“You did?” From his blue polo shirt to his fancy shoes, he didn’t seem the type to settle down in Cricket Creek, but then again the little town had had quite a few unexpected people moving here over the past few years. “Wow.” Wait. There really was something familiar about him. Where had she seen him before?

“I’m sorry. I neglected to introduce myself. I’m Garret Ruleman.”

“Oh!” Mattie nearly dropped the menu she’d been about to hand to him. She had seen him all right, on the cover of tabloids at the checkout lane at the grocery story. “You are?”

“Last time I looked at my license,” he said while pouring cream into his coffee.

Feeling a bit silly by her question, Mattie decided to add a little sass. “Maybe you should check just to be sure.”

“All right, then, I’ll have a look.” He reached around for his wallet, then flipped it open. “Yes, I’m still Garret Ruleman. Damn the luck,” he added with an arch of an eyebrow and a slight grin.

“So you moved to Cricket Creek to live near your father?” Rick Ruleman, famous rock star, owned My Way Records, which was located just a few miles away from the marina. It was well known that Garret and his father shared a rocky relationship, and Mattie suddenly wished she’d kept her doggone mouth shut.

“No, actually I’m back in town to rekindle my relationship with Addison Monroe.” He calmly took a sip of his coffee and peered at her over the rim of the mug.

Mattie couldn’t hold back her gasp. Garret and Addison’s broken engagement had been splashed all over the tabloids and was the reason Addison ended up opening up a bridal shop, of all things, in Cricket Creek. Garret looked familiar because she’d seen his face in print so many times and not usually in a flattering situation. “Addison is, um, married to Reid Greenfield, now,” Mattie informed him in a hesitant stage whisper.

“You don’t say . . . well, bollocks, that throws a monkey wrench into my plans.” When his mouth twitched Mattie knew he’d been messing with her. He took another sip of coffee and then added more cream. “This stuff is going to make my hair stand on end.”

“It’s already standing on end, but maybe that will offset the fact that your nose is going to grow from fibbing,” Mattie grumbled.

He reached up and touched his nose. “Wouldn’t want that to happen. Actually Addison and I have mended our fences and I’ve met Reid. He’s a great chap and Addison should thank her lucky stars that she dodged the bullet and dumped the likes of me.”

His grin suggested that he was joking, but there was something in Garret’s eyes that made Mattie want to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“So I had you going, did I?”

“That little deception wasn’t one bit funny.”

“I didn’t really think you’d fall for it. I was just goofing on you.”

“Goofing?”

“English slang for teasing.”

“Well, you’d think that I’d wise up, but I manage to fall for nearly everything.” I could fall for you zinged through her brain, but she chalked it up to a lack of coffee in her system. “I think I have tease me tattooed on my forehead.”

Narrowing his eyes, Garret peered at her forehead as if trying to see the tattoo. “Hmm, you do. Get that thing removed straightaway.”

“Good advice,” Mattie said, and then topped off his coffee.

“Actually I’m a studio musician and a talent scout for My Way Records.” Garret took a sip of the steaming brew. “But yes, it’s good to live near my father,” he added, but Mattie thought his smile appeared forced and he started studying the menu as if there would be a pop quiz afterward.

“Do you have any questions about the menu?”

“I do, in fact.” Garret looked up at her. “What in the world is redeye gravy?”

“Gravy made with coffee and the drippings from fried country ham.” She sighed. “But unfortunately I can’t offer redeye gravy or country ham on biscuits.”

“Ah . . . right, since the ham ran away with the dish and the spoon?”

Mattie nodded. “Something like that.”

“Pity, I was curious.”

“Well, I do make sausage gravy that will have you sigh with delight.”

“As it so happens, I adore sighing with delight,” Garret informed her with a slow grin that caused the butterflies in Mattie’s stomach to take flight once again. “I’m sold.” It looked as if he was about to say more when his phone started playing “Hard Day’s Night.” Standing up, he pulled his cell from his pocket and frowned at the screen. “Excuse me,” he said, and then answered the call. “Hello, love,” he said, making Mattie wonder if he was speaking to his girlfriend. “Ah yes, darling, I can be there by noon.”

Mattie felt an expected pang of disappointment that took her by surprise. Feeling silly, she quickly turned away and started fussing with rolling silverware in napkins. The breakfast crowd would be arriving soon and she’d best be thinking about getting ready rather than mooning over her sexy new neighbor. Besides, let’s get real, Mattie thought to herself. Now that she knew who he was, she remembered that Garret Ruleman’s bad boy reputation preceded him like his shadow. Along with Addison Monroe, daughter of famous finance guru Melinda Monroe, Garret had been linked to various famous actresses and models. If she remembered correctly, his mother was also some kind of celebrity. Garret might have been goofing on her, as he said, but Mattie was quite certain that she was as far from being his type as a girl could possibly get. With a sigh Mattie sternly reminded herself that she was already an expert in the not-his-type field, having been ass over teacups in love with Colby Campbell since, well, ever since she could remember.

Unfortunately there were several problems with loving Colby, starting with him being Mason’s best friend, which made Mattie off-limits because of some sort of hard-and-fast guy code rule. In addition, the four-year age difference between them had thrown Mattie into the annoying kid sister category while growing up. But at twenty-six she figured that gap should surely be closed! And face it, Mattie thought, she was no longer a kid but a grown woman, not that Colby seemed to notice. And if Mattie wanted to be honest (and she didn’t), that was also where the not-his-type part came into play. Colby always had some sort of prissy, big-haired blonde, some leggy, girlie thing hanging on his arm, and Mattie was anything but a girlie-girl. Mattie usually wore her long blond hair pulled up into a ponytail or in a braid down her back and she was neither prissy nor leggy. Still, in spite of having the deck stacked against her, every time he walked in the door, Mattie’s heart beat like a big bass drum.

Unrequited love truly sucked.

Complicating Mattie’s love life—or rather the lack thereof—was that her brother Danny, two years her junior, also adhered to the ridiculous don’t-date-my-sister rule, leaving Mattie friend-zoned by most of the eligible bachelors close to her age in town. Perhaps if her brothers would get married they would be busy raising families and back off watching her love life like a doggone hawk. In fact, their parents had become so frustrated by their lack of grandchildren that they up and moved to Florida, vowing not to return to Cricket Creek until they had at least one grandbaby.

Mattie stood up on her tiptoes and fumbled around in the cabinet for a coffee filter. Her brothers got blessed with the tall genes, while she stood barely over five foot two. She was also left-handed and the only blonde in the bunch, but she shared the same hazel eyes as her father. Her mother claimed that Mattie’s eyes were like mood rings, changing color depending upon her disposition.

Mattie measured the coffee grounds while trying to listen to Garret’s conversation. Eavesdropping was one of her favorite ways to pass the time while serving breakfast. From the old-timers’ breakfast club’s corny jokes to the really tall fish tales to the gossip from the ladies who came in to browse through the selection of romance novels, Mattie was thoroughly entertained every single morning. While Mattie wasn’t one to repeat gossip, she sure did get a kick out of listening to it.

After the coffee started hissing and dripping into the carafe, Mattie decided she needed to refill the saltshakers that were running low. She rose on tiptoe once again, but this time her fingers refused to coax the salt container to slide her way.

“Hey, love, do you need some help?” Garret asked in that sweet-ass accent of his.

Love? Wait. Did he just call her love? Before Mattie could process the whole love thing, he was standing behind her reaching up for the elusive canister of salt. She could feel the heat from his body standing so close to hers, and wow, did he smell heavenly . . . something spicy and, well, delicious! She had the urge to lean back against him and when he stepped to the side to hand her the salt, she wanted to grab him by the shirt and bury her nose next to his chest just to soak up the smell.

Instead Mattie had a saucy I didn’t need your help on the tip of her tongue, but then her fingers brushed against his and she felt a zing all the way to her doggone toes. Still, she lifted her chin, searching her befuddled brain for a retort of some sort, but he tilted his head and said, “You have the most amazing eyes. What color are they?”

“C-color?”

“Yes, I thought brown at first, but now they look green with a hint of blue. Quite lovely, actually.”

Mattie was used to teasing rather than compliments and she stood there feeling rather perplexed. She licked her bottom lip, something she did when confused, and damn if his gaze didn’t seem to drop to her mouth. Mattie swallowed and although warning bells chimed in her head about bad boy Garret Ruleman, she tipped her head up and leaned closer . . . suddenly prepared to risk it for the biscuit.

But just as her eyes started to flutter shut in anticipation of their mouths meeting, Mattie spotted none other than Colby Campbell walk through the front door. Startled, she took a quick step away from Garret and then frowned at him as if he’d done something wrong rather than offer his help. What in the hell had just gotten into her, anyway? Kissing a total stranger wasn’t like her at all! She shot Garret a frown so he got the message.

“Everything okay, Mattie?” Colby asked in that big brother tone that never failed to set her teeth on edge.

“Yeah, um, Garret was just helping me reach a canister of salt. Weren’t you, Garret?” she asked, but kept her focus on Colby. When Garret remained silent she gave him a little nudge with her elbow and then looked up at him.

“Well, actually . . .”

The mischief in Garret’s blue eyes made Mattie’s heart start to hammer. She looked at him and held her breath.

2

“I WAS JUST ABOUT READY TO ORDER BISCUITS AND GRAVY when I spotted Mattie in need of some assistance,” Garret explained, and could sense the tension leave Mattie’s body. Was this giant bloke dressed in boots and camo really cute little Mattie’s boyfriend?

“Because I’m so dang short,” Mattie chimed in. “Couldn’t reach the salt,” she added as if she needed to give Colby an explanation so he wouldn’t be jealous. But Garret noticed that Colby didn’t seem all that concerned.

“I was just being neighborly,” Garret said, and that seemed to get Colby’s attention.

“Neighborly?” He grinned. “You sure don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

“True enough. L.A. and London with a bit of Chicago tossed in. But I bought the cabin down by the river.”

“Oh, hey, welcome to Cricket Creek.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Colby Campbell.”

“Garret Ruleman,” Garret said, and shook Colby’s hand. He saw recognition on Colby’s face but didn’t want to deal with it, so he said quickly, “Good to meet you. Now that I’m no longer needed, I’ll just have a seat over at a booth.” Garret’s statement went mostly unnoticed by an obviously smitten Mattie.

“Okay,” Mattie said absently, and didn’t bother to flick a glance in Garret’s direction. Since Garret was rather used to women fawning all over him, he found Mattie’s rapid dismissal refreshing in a weird way. Odd, but he could have sworn she was about to let him kiss her just moments ago. Perhaps he’d been mistaken, because she only seemed to have eyes for Colby. Pity, because he found her utterly charming. After picking up his coffee mug, Garret walked over to a booth by the wall and proceeded to watch the rather interesting scene unfold.

“I’m in dire need of coffee,” Colby announced.

“Comin’ right up.” Mattie put a mug in front of Colby, who swung one long jean-clad leg over the stool and sat down. “Just to let you know there’s no country ham this mornin’.”

“Again?” Colby grumbled. “And here I was wantin’ some of your redeye gravy.”

“Sorry ’bout your luck.” Mattie sighed and then fisted her hands on her hips. “Rusty ran off with the ham. I chased after his sorry hide but came up empty-handed.” She wiggled her fingers in the air to demonstrate. “I’m gonna give Mason a piece of my mind about the situation. I love ol’ Rusty to the moon and back, but I can’t have him stealing my breakfast supplies.”

“I don’t blame you one bit,” Colby said with a nod.

Ah, so Mattie was chasing after a dog, Garret thought, and had to grin. He would have loved to see her in action. He’d also love to have his breakfast served, but Mattie was totally focused on Colby. But then as if reading Garret’s mind she glanced in his direction.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she said to Colby, and then walked Garret’s way with the coffeepot in her hand.

“Did you decide what you want?” Mattie asked with what appeared to be a grateful smile. She obviously regretted the brief heated moment they’d shared. Of course perhaps the heat was all on his end. If he really had been crazy enough to try to steal a kiss, he would most likely have gotten a roundhouse to the jaw. Risky business, he thought, but perhaps one worth taking.

“I’ll have the biscuits and sausage gravy that is sure to make me sigh with pleasure.”

Her eyes rounded and she glanced over at Colby, who seemed oblivious of her adoration. Couldn’t the big clod see how cute Mattie was in her cutoff jeans and scuffed cowboy boots? She tilted her head to the side, making her long ponytail slip over her shoulder. “I believe I said de-light.”

“Right . . . my mistake.”

“Eggs?”

“Over easy.”

“Grits?”

“Never had them, but they sound, well, gritty.”

“My grits are smooth and creamy. Give them a try. You won’t be sorry.”

“Causing another groan of sheer pleasure?” Garret asked, and was rewarded with a scowl that had a cute blush behind it.

“Another sigh of delight.”

Garret shrugged. “Semantics . . .”

“Butter or cheese?”

“What do you suggest?”

“I prefer cheesy grits, but that’s just me.”

“Sold.”

“Hash browns?” she continued with a crisp businesslike tone that made Garret grin.

“Um . . .” Garret wondered how he was going to consume all that food, but he’d just bet that Colby over at the counter would scarf down a manly breakfast, so he nodded. “Of course.”

“Scattered, smothered, and covered?”

“Who, what, and where?”

Mattie laughed and Garret decided he liked the soft, slightly throaty sound. She slowly repeated the choices.

“Are you trying to kill me? Because it sure sounds like a grisly murder.”

“Scattered on the grill, covered with onions, and smothered with cheese.”

“Well, then, yes, you are definitely trying to kill me.”

“Then you will surely die with a big smile on your face.”

Garret had to chuckle. “All right, then, scatter, smother, and cover me.”

“Waffles, toast, or pancakes?”

“No!” Garret raised his hands skyward. “I must draw the line somewhere . . . dear God, the biscuits are more than enough carbs.”

Mattie laughed again. “Juice?”

“Just water, please, but keep the coffee coming.”

“Will do.” Mattie nodded and turned on her heel. He noticed that she kept glancing at Colby, who had his nose buried in a newspaper. When she walked over to refill his coffee mug, he ordered a huge breakfast feast, including a stack of pancakes. It kind of irked Garret that the dude didn’t seem to have an ounce of fat on his damn body. A few minutes later a whole crew of guys dressed and built like Colby entered the restaurant. There was a lot of back slapping and joke telling. Garret had to admit that he was envious of their camaraderie. But what he didn’t like was the constant teasing of Mattie. When Colby tugged her ponytail as she walked by, Garret longed to stomp over there and smack the big clod upside his head.

While waiting for his breakfast, Garret played with his cell phone but listened to their conversation that was apparently English but might just as well have been in a foreign language, since Garret failed to understand most of what they were talking about. What in the world was flipping and pitching lily pads? And apparently mudding was some sort of pastime that they were going to engage in over the weekend. Did they sling it at each other while flipping lily pads? The conversation led into some of them trying to get their girlfriends to go noodling in a nearby lake. Garret thought they must mean something like skinny-dipping. Knowing that he needed to learn the local lingo, he listened closely.

“Sherry won’t even consider going noodling,” said some big dude they called Squirrel. “What do you think, Danny?”

“Too scared, I guess,” said Danny. “Mattie would be too.”

“Nah, I just bet Mattie would do it,” Colby said, drawing Mattie’s attention away from the griddle.

“Of course I would,” Mattie boasted, and then turned to flip several pancakes. “When are y’all goin’?” she asked over her shoulder.

Garret took a sip of his coffee, not liking the idea at all, and then wondered why he considered it his business.

Danny laughed, drawing a frown from Mattie. “You’d never stick your hand in a catfish hole, Mattie. Get real.”

“I’m not afraid of a catfish,” she scoffed before handing him a huge stack of pancakes.

“You’d be too scared of a water moccasin,” Danny said.

“I would not,” Mattie argued.

Garret had the feeling they weren’t talking about a shoe.

“Right, you’re scared to death of snakes,” Danny insisted. “You even screamed at that fake one I put behind the counter last week.”

“That was a riot,” Colby said, and gave Danny and Squirrel a high five. They all laughed.

Mattie narrowed her eyes and pointed her spatula at Danny. “I thought you said that Mason put the fake snake there.”

“It was Colby.” Danny jammed his thumb in his friend’s direction.

“No way.” Colby held up his hands in protest. “Wasn’t me.”

“Well, I wasn’t scared, just startled,” Mattie insisted. “Even Rusty thought it was real and started barking his fool head off. And I will go noodling with you to prove it,” she added. “And show y’all up by winnin’ the weigh-in.” With a lift of her chin she turned back to the griddle, cooking at the speed of light. A minute later she brought Garret’s huge breakfast over to him and put it on the table. “More coffee?”

“When you get the chance,” Garret said, and suddenly wanted to get up and help her wait on those big clods who seemed to love to get her goat. “What is noodling, again?”

“You wade through the water until you find a catfish hole. Then you stick your hand in there.”

“What? Don’t they bite?” Garret could only shake his head that this was actually some sort of sport that one would willingly engage in.

“When they clamp their mouth shut you grab them by the gills and haul them out of the water. It’s not too dangerous. You usually only get little scratches or cuts.”

“Sounds horrid.”

Mattie glanced over at the front counter and then lowered her voice. “It’s not the catfish that are dangerous but the snakes or snapping turtles or beavers who take over the catfish holes as their home.”

Garret felt a flash of alarm. “You’re not really going to do this nonsense, are you?”

Mattie shrugged. “Maybe.” She gave Colby a glance and Garret wondered if she would do this insane activity to impress him. Apparently so.

“Good God, I’ll pay you not to do it. Name your price,” Garret offered, but she only laughed as if he was joking, though he wasn’t.

“You’re funny, you know that? I’ll bring more coffee over in a minute.”

“Thank you.” Garret wanted to tell her that he was dead serious, but she turned on her heel and hurried back to the griddle, where she cracked eggs one-handed and then started rapidly flipping food, making her ponytail swing back and forth. Garret had a hard time not staring at her cute bum in those little cutoff jeans. After she served up the big breakfast feast, the blokes dove into their food with gusto and to Garret’s relief the teasing finally ceased.

Mattie seemed to take it all in stride as she handed menus to a sweet older couple whom she addressed as Clyde and Miss Patty.

“You two still have that newlywed glow about you,” Mattie said as she poured coffee into their mugs.

“I’m not at all surprised that it shows.” Clyde reached over and picked up Miss Patty’s hand. When he bestowed her knuckles with light kisses, she blushed. “I couldn’t be happier.”

“Oh, you’re such a sweet talker,” Miss Patty said with a wave of her hand, but the blush deepened.

Newlyweds? There was something so endearing about them that Garret had to smile. He felt an odd stab of longing and in that same moment Mattie turned and came walking his way.

“They’re cute, aren’t they?”

“Adorable.”

While Mattie poured steaming coffee into his mug she asked, “How is everything?”

Garret responded with a long sigh and she laughed. “You’re right. I’ll die happy.”

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, sounding a little bit breathless.

“Don’t you have any help?” Garret asked, thinking that she could use someone to either cook or wait tables for her.

Mattie shrugged. “Sometimes I have Bubba Brown in here helpin’ me cook and clear tables, but he’s a bit under the weather, so I’m all by myself today.” It seemed like a daunting task to have to do everything on her own, but she seemed to be able to handle it. “And my brother Danny over at the counter will help me clean up if he doesn’t have boats to work on today. I’d rather be busy than standing around twiddling my thumbs.” She shot him a grin. “Keeps me outta trouble.”

“I hope it keeps you from sticking your hand in a catfish hole,” he grumbled, but she just laughed again.

“Maybe you should come along.”

“Not on your life,” Garret said, trying to imagine doing such a foolish thing.

“Don’t say I didn’t offer,” Mattie said in a tone that suggested that she knew he wouldn’t accept, making him suddenly want to.

But when she started to turn away, Garret felt the need to stop her. He surprised himself by saying, “Seriously, Mattie, don’t do something that could potentially cause you harm just to prove yourself.” He supposed that he could relate, since he’d felt the need to prove himself most of his life. Her smile faded and Garret thought she was going to tell him to mind his own business, and she would be right. He should. “I won’t,” she promised softly, and then went back to work.

Garret looked down at the enormous amount of food on his plate and started eating the biscuits and gravy. Mattie was a damn good cook, which made him marvel at how she could get everything done to perfection without any assistance. He toyed around with his phone, checking messages and playing on Facebook while trying to make a dent in his breakfast. While he used to love to sleep in, these days Garret was an early riser and there still didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day to get everything done. But he liked his schedule being full and wondered how he had ever thought that life was good when he didn’t have a damn thing to do. And Mattie was right. Staying busy kept Garret out of trouble, something he used to get into on a regular basis. Three-day benders and raising hell no longer appealed to him.

Garret looked down at a text message from his father, reminding him about the meeting with country superstar Shane McCray that was to take place tomorrow. Recently retired from touring, Shane was going to help open Sully’s South, a venue to showcase singers/songwriters in the vein of the famous Bluebird Café in Nashville. Sully’s South was the brainchild of Maria Sully, songwriter extraordinaire who took a position in the publishing end of My Way Records after returning to Cricket Creek to reunite with her ex-husband, Pete, who owned Sully’s Tavern and Concert Hall. Cricket Creek, Kentucky, was quickly becoming a mecca for musicians.

Along with his performing on guitar as a studio musician, Garret’s other role with his father’s recording studio was as a talent scout and he absolutely loved finding fresh new voices. Funny that he’d once longed to be famous like his father and now his job was making other musicians into stars.

When Mattie started clearing dishes from tables, Garret realized he’d outstayed the other customers who were starting to leave. By some miracle he’d managed to consume most of his breakfast—even the smothered and covered mountain of hash browns.

“Can I get you anything else?” Mattie asked, and grinned when she saw his nearly empty plate.

“Yes, a crane to heft me out of here.”

Mattie laughed. “Well, there are plenty of activities to do around here this time of year to burn up some calories.”

“Like noodling? Um, I don’t think so. And I don’t even want to know what mudding is.”

“Well, there are some tamer things to do like swimming, fishing, and hiking. We rent boats and WaveRunners down at the dock if you’re interested. My brother Danny can hook you up. Mason is a fishing guide if you want to try your hand at bass fishing. They really do fall for the artificial bait.”

“You swim in the river?”

“Only close to the dock back here in the cove. The current is pretty swift and can be dangerous when you get out into the main channel of the Ohio River. Up near the dam the river is wide like a lake and we head up there whenever we can to go tubing or water-skiing.”

“Tubing? Sounds a bit odd.”

“Not really. It’s when you sit in a big inner tube that’s hooked with a ski rope to the back of a boat. You have to hang on for dear life while the driver tries to shake you off by bringing you back over the huge waves from the wake of the boat. Mason takes particular delight in shaking me from the Tube.”

“Again, I think I’ll shy away from noodling and tubing and . . . mudding.”

“Hey, it’s a small town. We have to make our own fun.”

“How about a good ol’ swimming pool? Do you have one of those around by any chance?”

“Sorry.” Mattie laughed. “No concrete pool back here, but we do have a nice-sized lake on the property with campsites nearby.” She shook her head as she handed him his bill. “There are electric hookups, no room service, I’m afraid.”

“Pity.” Garret made a show of sighing. He’d actually done some hiking in some pretty remote places all around the world, but he found it rather amusing for her to think he was a total city boy.

“We provide cabins up by the lake too. My own cabin is located on the opposite side and I have my own little dock. Trust me, it’s safe to swim in if you like. And you can just sit in a tube.”

“Now, that I could do.”

“Come on up for a swim any time you like. I only chase strangers away with my shotgun, so you’re safe.”

Garret imagined her with a big shotgun and was rendered speechless.

“I’m just kidding.”

Thank God. “I knew that.”

“Sure you did.” Mattie laughed again. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Garret. I hope you’ll come back for breakfast on a regular basis.”

“No doubt about that. You’re an amazing cook, Mattie Mayfield.”

“Why, thank you.”

Her smile seemed shy at his compliment, making him wonder if all those blokes took her for granted.

“And it’s nice to know you’re my neighbor. How far away is your cabin on the lake?” he asked.

“Just a rather short walk through the path in the woods or a couple of miles down the main road that winds through the marina if you go by car. Unless it rains I usually walk.”

“Sounds peaceful.” Garret nodded and he was about to ask if she might show him around later when some customers walked through the door, taking her attention away from him. He left a generous tip and walked outside into the warm sunshine. As he made his way toward his cabin, he realized that he was smiling and that cute little Mattie had put the smile on his face.

Garret paused to take a few pictures of the stone and cedar structure to send to his mother, who lived in London. He missed her dearly and planned to visit her again as soon as he could fit in a bit of a holiday. Although he’d lived in way more luxurious homes in his lifetime, there was just something about this rustic A-frame that drew him in and made him feel at peace. The river view wasn’t majestic like an ocean view, but Garret liked the calm sound of the river lapping against the shore.

Because the cabin had been used as a vacation rental, it had been fully furnished, another nice perk, since Garret was so busy traveling back and forth to Nashville. It helped that his stepmother, Maggie, was a real estate agent who did all the legwork for him. Garret shook his head when he thought about his hard-rocker father marrying such a down-to-earth sweetheart like Maggie. Garret adored Maggie, who in some ways reminded him of his London-born mother, who was much more grounded than people realized. He certainly would never have guessed that his dad would ever settle down at all, much less in a small town like Cricket Creek. And running a record label geared toward bluegrass and country music was another surprise. But then again, he’d always thought his dad had been living the life of his dreams when that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Garret understood. His own badass thumbing-his-nose-at-the-world persona that he’d created over the years was a complete farce. If Addison Monroe hadn’t seen through him and called him out on it before giving back his engagement ring, he might still be chasing a dream he never really wanted in the first place. Like his father, music pumped through his blood with every heartbeat. But fame? He no longer cared and thank God he hadn’t stooped to become a reality show star laughingstock. When Addison had called him out on wanting to marry her so that they could star in their own television show, she hadn’t been far from the truth. Creating amazing music in the studio and searching for new talent were much more rewarding.

Garret snapped a few pictures of the cabin and then took a few more of Mayfield Marina. When he heard shouting he turned around and laughed when he saw Mattie chasing the dog better known as the ham bandit.

“Rusty, get your sorry hide back here!” she yelled.

Chuckling, Garret took a video with his phone, wondering what tasty treat Rusty had snatched from the kitchen this time. When the ham bandit got away Mattie stood there with her hands on her hips and stomped one foot before taking angry strides back into the restaurant.

Still grinning, Garret opened the front door and decided to brew a bit more coffee to enjoy while sitting on the back deck that overlooked the marina and cove. While he’d someday take the time to put his personality into the décor, for right now the sturdy functional furniture was perfect.

Later that evening Garret thought he’d take a jog after the heat of the day dissipated. And just maybe he’d end up on the trail in the woods leading to Mattie’s home by the lake. Garret had to grin. There wasn’t a maybe in that thought. Although he knew he wasn’t Mattie’s type, since she seemed to be so into Colby, there was just something about her that made him want to get to know her better. He’d never had a girl who was only a friend, and the thought suddenly appealed to him. While the coffee brewed, Garret went into his office and picked up his laptop so he could make notes for the meeting with Shane and Maria.

Garret inhaled the pungent scent and smiled while thinking that not too long ago he didn’t even know how to make his own coffee—or rather wouldn’t have been bothered to make it and would have felt the need to have a barista create a frothy something or other with a long list of ingredients. Garret poured the strong coffee into the mug and smiled. Simplicity felt so much better. While he knew that he still had a way to go on his journey of self-discovery, he liked this new sense of purpose. And though he and Addison weren’t meant to be together, he’d missed her friendship after their breakup. In the end Addison had seen through his false bravado. She’d told him that there was more to him than what he’d given himself credit for and she had challenged him to have the courage to dig deep and find it. The fact that Addison had truly cared about him had seeped into his bones and made him stronger, unbreakable. He thought again that he was so over being the bad boy son of a famous rock star and international fashion model. Instead of being famous for being famous, he wanted to create a career based on his own talent and accomplishments.

Taking his coffee and laptop out onto the back deck, he settled into the cushioned lounge chair and started brainstorming. He’d once turned his nose up at country music, thinking the down-home genre of music to be beneath him. But after meeting and working with the brilliant Maria Sully, he’d, well, changed his tune. Shane McCray was a Country Music Hall of Fame legend. His classic country songs transcended time and spoke to Garret on a basic level that he’d ignored in the past.

Timeless, Garret typed and then smiled when sparks of inspiration starting flooding his brain. He laughed, thinking that his brain was so happy to be used for something worthwhile that the ideas came faster than he could type. When he finally took another sip of coffee, it had gone cold, but he didn’t care and drank it anyway. The meeting with Maria and Shane was going to be fantastic.

3

SHANE STRIPPED OFF HIS SWEATY RUNNING CLOTHES AND let them drop into a soggy heap behind a potted plant on the pool deck. He added his shoes to the pile, peeled off his socks, and then dove into the deep end. The water felt deliciously soothing, sliding against his overheated body. He’d pushed too hard during his run, but now that he was retired he wanted to remain in decent shape. After breaking the surface, Shane flipped to his back and simply drifted. As he gazed up at the light blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds, he realized that he hadn’t felt this calm in way too long.

Shane would never be ungrateful enough to complain about his success as a country music star, but the downside to fame was never having enough hours in the day to enjoy the fruits of his labor. His career had also cost him his marriage to his high school sweetheart, a woman he still at times missed. Thinking about Patsy brought a sigh past his lips. His ex-wife had moved on and was remarried with three children and he thought maybe two grandkids by now. They’d remained friendly, but the pain of the divorce caused Shane to never seriously consider marriage again. Shane wondered if Patsy knew how many of his early songs were written about loving her. Missing her. When they’d fallen in love their senior year in high school, neither of them could have predicted that just a few years later Shane would shoot to the top of the country music world so swiftly and stay there. Patsy simply couldn’t deal with his absence, and God knows Shane often wondered if his career had been worth it. He didn’t give a damn about the money or fame. He had remained a simple man with simple needs. In truth it was the fans that had kept him going. Shane knew all too well how much music meant to people.

It wasn’t as if he still pined for Patsy every day, but since his retirement he had time to reflect upon his life and wonder what the future might bring. Always surrounded by people and yet he still suffered from bouts of loneliness.

Shane kicked his feet, sending water splashing. The direction of his thoughts disturbed his peaceful floating, so he pushed them aside and let music drift into his head.

Shane watched an eagle soar high up in the sky and smiled. One of the perks of moving from Nashville to his secluded home in Cricket Creek was the privacy. Nestled as it was deep in the woods on a hillside overlooking a winding section of the river, Shane no longer had to worry about paparazzi snapping pictures or tourist buses driving past his house. Nope, the only eyes possibly on him were animals scampering through the woods.

Shane flipped over and swam a few leisurely laps. Other than helping his songwriter friend Maria Sully with Sully’s South, her showcase venue for discovering new music talent, the only thing Shane had to worry about was where he’d go fishing next. Having free time still felt odd, but he supposed he’d get used to it. He didn’t want to be one of those stars who had a huge last tour hurrah only to come back a year later.

After a few more minutes Shane’s stomach rumbled in empty protest and he hoped he’d find something in the fridge to eat for breakfast, which was the only meal he was capable of making. Flipping an egg was about as far as his cooking skills could take him. Unfortunately going to the grocery store was still an adventure where he walked around in a confused daze.

While there were a few excellent restaurants in Cricket Creek, Shane wanted to keep his existence on the down low. Nashville wasn’t all that far from Cricket Creek and he sure didn’t want to ruin his newfound privacy by luring the paparazzi to this small town. Nope, that would really suck, he thought, and decided he needed to watch some cooking shows now that he had the time. He’d read in the local paper that the chef at Wine and Diner conducted cooking classes, so perhaps he could sharpen his culinary skills and discover a new hobby. Learning to cook might be fun and serve a purpose as well.

After one last lap Shane glided to the side of the pool and hefted his body up over the edge. He stood up, letting the water sluice down his body. The warmth of the sunshine felt good and he closed his eyes and tilted his face upward. With a long groan he raised his arms above his head and stretched out the kinks.

“Oh dear God, you’re naaaaa-ked!”

“What?” Startled, Shane opened his eyes and encountered a red-haired woman he’d never seen before. He lowered his hands to shield himself. Where in the hell had she come from? At least she didn’t have a camera. She covered her eyes with her hands and took a big step backward.

“I . . . I . . .”

“Watch out for the lounge chair behind you,” Shane warned when she nearly fell into it. The back of her calves hit the metal edge and she did a little hoppy side step, looking as if she were ready to start a line dance. Coming to an unsteady halt, she nodded but kept her eyes covered. Her flaming cheeks were nearly the same color as her hair. With her eyes still hidden she said, “I’m so, so sorry!” Her purse slid from the shoulder of her white blouse and hit the pavement with a thud. She dropped a folder she was carrying, causing papers to scatter.

“It’s okay.” Shane glanced around for his clothes but couldn’t remember where he’d shed them, thinking that he could remember the lyrics to hundreds of songs but forgot where the hell he’d left his clothes just a little while ago. “But if you don’t mind if I ask, who are you?” He looked around again, thinking perhaps he should jump back into the water.

“Laura Lee Carter. I . . . I’m here about the housekeeping position. I went to the front door, but there was no answer and I s-saw your truck and . . . and I thought I’d check back here, um, here. I . . . I was supposed to interview with you at ten.”

“Oh, I thought that was tomorrow,” Shane admitted, thinking that having a personal assistant was something he was really going to miss.

“I’ll come back another time,” she offered, and hastily turned around but hit the chair again.

“No, hey, listen this is totally my fault. I just need to get dressed,” he said. “As soon as I figure out where I left my clothes.” Seriously what the hell? Did his damn shorts just get up and walk away? Was a raccoon wearing his running shoes? “They’ve got to be around here somewhere.”