The Girl He Used To Love

She watched Dean thank Hank for holding the door open for him and Sawyer. He still had his good manners. And broad shoulders. And green eyes that matched the color of the rolling hills that surrounded Grass Lake. Faith’s chest burned. He also had a stone heart.

“Am I going to get the story on that one?” Josie asked when she came back to the bar with a drink order. “Or is this something I’m going to have to pry out of you with promises of chocolate and my child’s free labor?”

“Your daughter already works for free,” Faith quipped. Lily volunteered at the farm several times a week. “You can’t bribe me with something I already get.”

Josie’s round face always wore a smile. Her blue eyes often had a mischievous glint. She nudged Faith with her elbow. “Then just tell me.”

Faith let out a heavy sigh of resignation. “Dean is Marilee Presley’s son. He’s a big-shot record executive in Nashville. He thinks Sawyer should come to the city and start a music career or something.” It sounded even more ridiculous when she said it out loud.

“That’s amazing!” Josie lit up. “Does he work with anyone I listen to?”

“Boone Williams.”

“Boone ‘She Loves Me Better Than You’ Williams?”

Faith wished Josie wasn’t so impressed. “That’s the one,” she said.

Josie hopped up and down. “Our Sawyer is going to be famous like Boone Williams? This is better than winning the lottery! Why aren’t you excited?”

“Our Sawyer runs Helping Hooves with me.”

The Stratton siblings had been working under their father since they were old enough to hold a dandy brush. John Stratton had believed caring for horses was therapeutic. He had gone back to school after their mother left and gotten his master’s degree in counseling with a certificate in equine-assisted therapy. Soon after, he’d opened up Helping Hooves.

Faith had always loved horses and couldn’t wait to follow in her father’s footsteps. She had imagined working side by side with her dad for years and years. Now that he was gone, Faith was the only licensed therapist while Sawyer assisted and did most of the heavy lifting. They weren’t doing a terrible job running the place, but there was no way one of them could do it alone.

“We’re trying to get accredited and there’s a lot of work to do. Sawyer’s place is here, not Nashville,” Faith added.

“Oh, please! Your brother has more talent in his pinkie finger than everyone else in Grass Lake combined. If anyone has a shot at being something, at being someone, it’s Sawyer.”

Wasn’t he already someone?

“How many people get discovered in small-town bars and become super famous?” Faith asked Josie, but answered first. “Not many. My brother is too much of a realist to get caught up in some crazy fantasy.”

There was nothing to worry about. Faith would ignore the tightness in her shoulders and the way her stomach ached. Dean would leave. There was no way he would stick around long enough to convince Sawyer to go with him. Dean wouldn’t be able to get out of Grass Lake quick enough.

Faith was annoyed at the way that thought stung. It made little sense. Addison would have been shaking her head in disgust. She hadn’t understood how Faith could have those kinds of feelings for her brother. Oh, how Faith wished she had never felt anything for Dean. Had she not, maybe Addison would still be alive today.

“Say what you want,” Josie told her. “But I saw the way he listened to your brother play. It was like watching a snake charmer hypnotizing a cobra. It will be Sawyer doing the helping when he sells a million records for Mr. Presley’s company.”

Josie announced last call and slipped behind the bar to take over for Sawyer. Faith grabbed a dish towel and went to clean off one of the newly abandoned tables. Faith needed Sawyer’s help more than Dean ever would. Her brother would stay loyal to the family. There was no doubt in Faith’s mind.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_69ad5410-b0be-59ab-aecb-ada5ccb5f5ea)

DRY SOCKS WERE Dean’s new favorite thing. Although it was possible hot showers ranked a little higher. Hot showers, dry socks and dry pants were definitely in the top three. It didn’t even matter that the sweatpants were a little long.

“Feeling better?” Sawyer asked when Dean joined him in the Strattons’ sitting room. The chocolate Lab at his feet lifted his head and gave Dean a once-over before probably determining they had already been acquainted. And by acquainted, Dean meant that Sawyer’s dog, Scout, had stuck his nose right in his crotch and given him a good sniffing. Dean felt like maybe that made them more than acquaintances at this point.

“One hundred percent.”

“Well, you look a million times better,” Sawyer said, leaning back in his oversize upholstered rocking chair. “I think I might actually be able to be in the same room as you without laughing.”

“Does that mean you might reconsider my offer to come to Nashville?”

A smile spread across Sawyer’s face as he shook his head. “Not tonight. Faith says yes to a lot of things she’d rather say no to, and letting you stay here was harder than she wants you to know. I’m not going to push her buttons any more tonight.”

Dean felt a little guilty for using the Strattons, given the way things had gone down between him and Faith after Addison’s death. But one night and he’d be gone. This visit would be nothing more than a tiny blip on the screen of their lives.

“We can talk about music, though. No harm in that,” Sawyer suggested.

Talking about music was easy. Dean had been in love with music since as far back as he could remember. Growing up, his dad had played banjo in a bluegrass band on the weekends and his mother had an unhealthy obsession with Garth Brooks. The first CD he’d bought was a George Strait album that his eight-year-old self had listened to on a constant loop for months.

The more he and Sawyer talked, the more Dean could see the young man had a similar passion for great music. His eyes lit up when he told Dean a story about buying his first guitar. He had taught himself how to play by watching videos on the internet. Eventually he’d started writing his own songs as well as fooling around with the arrangements of some classics. Country music was his first love but he’d learned a couple Eagles’ tunes for his old man.

“I was sorry to hear about your dad.”

“He was a good man. An even better dad.” Sawyer sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. His gaze fell to the floor. “It’s been six months and I’m still not used to him being gone. It’s like I keep waiting for him to walk through the door and tell me what needs to get done around here.”

Dean knew that feeling all too well. It was a big reason for not wanting to be in this town. He imagined seeing Addison at every turn. She used to love hanging out at Gibson’s Five and Dime, spending her allowance on candy and teeny-bopper magazines. How many times had she begged Mrs. Lam at the salon to dye her strawberry-blond hair a different color?

He’d never understood why she hadn’t been satisfied with the way she looked the moment she turned fourteen. Maybe it was a girl thing, but Addison hadn’t been the kind of girl who needed anyone’s approval. Addison had always done what Addison wanted.

“You okay?” Sawyer asked.

Dean nodded and shook off the memories of his baby sister. “I was just thinking about how hard you must have to work around here. If it’s anything like the summer I was on staff, the work’s never done.”

“Faith and I have been working our butts off to keep Helping Hooves in business. It hasn’t been easy,” Sawyer admitted. “We’re in the process of getting accredited by this equine therapy association. If we pass inspection, we’ll have a better shot of paying our bills and expanding the services we provide. Faith understands it all more than I do. I just do what I’m told. Being a grown-up is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

“Is this what you see yourself doing the rest of your life? Keeping the farm running?”

Dean watched Sawyer think it over. It wasn’t a simple yes-or-no question for him. “I haven’t really thought that far ahead. I like to focus on one thing at a time or else it gets too overwhelming. Right now, the only thing Faith lets me think about is the hundred pages of requirements we need to meet in order for Helping Hooves to get accredited.”

Dean didn’t like the sound of that. He needed Sawyer now, not later. “I get that the farm is your priority, but I have to believe you’ve thought about what it would be like if you could write and perform music for a living. You’re too good not to have thought about it at least once.”

Sawyer sat back. “I may have thought about it once or twice. But those were just daydreams.”

“Well, I’m not here to make you any promises,” Dean said, leaning in. “I don’t make promises, I offer opportunity. I’d love to hear some more of your songs, and if the rest of them are as good as what I heard tonight, I’d love to offer you the opportunity to record some of them.”

“But that would happen in Nashville?”

“Everything happens in Nashville. I can get you studio time there. I can introduce you to some other musicians. I’m telling you, once we get some things recorded, it can all move real fast. I’ll have you singing in front of crowds a whole lot bigger than what comes into the Sundown.”

Sawyer scratched the top of Scout’s head. “That sounds like quite an offer.”

“It is. I’m the guy who turns dreams into reality.”

“I’m sure most people would say it was an offer they couldn’t refuse.” Sawyer paused. “But I’m going to need some time to think about it and talk to my sister. Just because I haven’t thought about what I want to do with the rest of my life, doesn’t mean I want to leap without looking.”

“Fair enough.” Dean could respect his need to make an informed decision. “Trust me, I don’t want you saying yes and then backing out in a month, either. I want artists who are committed. If you sign with me, I can promise you that I will be committed to you.”