A Winter Wedding. Brenda Novak

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СКАЧАТЬ time in years, without the man she loved, who was also the manager who’d promised to take her back to number one, and without real hope that she’d be able to reclaim the momentum she’d lost in both her personal and professional lives.

      Still, she had her guitar. That was all she’d started with when she moved to Nashville at eighteen, wasn’t it? If she could come up with a handful of songs that were special—no, groundbreaking—maybe it wouldn’t be too late to turn her luck around. And this place, isolated and yet familiar enough for her to feel comfortable, would offer just the refuge she needed.

      “I’m ready to sign the rental agreement,” she said.

      * * *

      Lourdes Bennett had arrived at Kyle’s farmhouse only a few minutes after he did, so he hadn’t had time to read about her. He’d barely pulled her up on Wikipedia when he’d heard the sound of her car and shoved his phone in his pocket. But now that he was home and could surf the internet at his leisure, he’d spent over an hour visiting her website as well as exploring several other links that contained less official information.

      He hadn’t been nervous about approaching a woman in a long time, but when she’d gotten out of the car, and he’d caught his first glimpse of her, he’d suddenly—and against all expectation—gone a little weak in the knees. He didn’t care about her fame. His best friend had married a major movie star, so he knew someone far more famous. It was that she was so attractive. Usually the pictures people posted looked a lot better than the real thing. That wasn’t the case with Lourdes Bennett. Her blond hair had fallen about her shoulders in a thick, wavy mass. Her skin was pale, but she also had the smoothest, creamiest complexion he’d ever seen. And her eyes! They reminded him of the azure color of the Caribbean Sea.

      “Of course she has a boyfriend,” he muttered when he found a picture of her at the Country Music Association Awards posing with none other than a man identified in the caption as Derrick Meade, her manager. Apparently, her relationship with Meade went beyond business. The same caption indicated that after Derrick had helped America “discover” her, the two had started dating, and they’d been a couple for six months, even though he had to be at least twelve to fifteen years older.

      That picture had been taken two years ago, before her last album came out. Kyle couldn’t find as many public appearances after the release of Hot City Lights, and nothing more about her and Derrick. But he guessed they were still seeing each other. It was Derrick who’d called to line up the farmhouse, wasn’t it? That meant he’d probably be joining her periodically—maybe on weekends—and certainly for Christmas...

      Disappointed in spite of all the reasons he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, he went into the kitchen to crack open a beer. Then he jumped. Someone was at his window, peering in at him!

      A second later he realized who it was. Noelle.

      With a curse, he put down his beer.

      “What are you doing here?” he asked as he swung open the door.

      She threaded her way through his shrubbery to reach the porch. “My, aren’t you in a good mood.”

      “What did you expect? You were peeping at me!”

      “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. Your truck’s in the drive, so I was trying to see where you were. I knocked but you didn’t answer.”

      “Because I didn’t hear anything.” He must’ve been too absorbed in researching Lourdes Bennett. “What do you need?”

      “I couldn’t get someone to help me with the water heater until after your office closed. A.J. and I have been trying to get in, but—”

      “A.J.?” That wasn’t a name he’d heard around Whiskey Creek.

      “Yeah. He works with me at Sexy Sadie’s. He took Fisk’s place when Fisk moved to Vegas and a job opened up at the bar.”

      Once upon a time, Kyle would’ve known all the bartenders at the local pub. He’d hung out there quite a lot over the years. There weren’t many other places to go for fun in a town of only two thousand. But now that nearly all his friends were married, he spent most of his weekends working.

      “I was hoping you’d lend me the key,” Noelle said. “We’ll bring it back after we grab the water heater.”

      No way would he ever trust her with access to his office. “I’ll drive over and let you in,” he said. “But...why didn’t you just call me? I could’ve met you there.”

      “Check your phone,” she said. “You didn’t pick up.”

      His phone hadn’t rung; it hadn’t even buzzed. But when he pulled it from his pocket, he could see why. He’d inadvertently turned on the “do not disturb” feature.

      Or maybe he’d done it subconsciously. He really didn’t want to be interrupted tonight, especially by her.

      “Give me a minute. I’ll be right out.”

      He went to his bedroom to retrieve his coat before scooping his keys off the counter.

      It took longer to load the water heater in A.J.’s truck than Kyle had thought it would. A.J. needed to clarify the instructions on how to install it—again and again. Kyle almost offered to do it himself. Obviously, A.J. wasn’t mechanically inclined and wouldn’t be much help to Noelle. But then Kyle got a text from a number he didn’t recognize that said:

      This is Lourdes. I can’t get the furnace to come on, and it’s freezing in this house.

      “What is it?” Noelle asked.

      He lowered his phone so she wouldn’t be able to read the message. “There’s a problem with my new renter. I’ve got to go.”

      “So that Meade guy took the place? The farmhouse has been leased?”

      He hesitated at her assumption. His tenant wasn’t the man he’d mentioned to her earlier. But Lourdes didn’t want to be bothered while she was in Whiskey Creek. And if he told Noelle they had a famous country singer in their midst, she’d spread the word all over town. She might even show up at the farmhouse, claiming she was his ex and therefore had some right to the property.

      He couldn’t allow that to happen. “Yeah. It’s a done deal,” he said.

      “That was fast!”

      “He was serious. He had me furnish it, remember?”

      She didn’t seem to mind that A.J. was tying down the water heater without her help. “I remember,” she said. “But what does someone from Nashville want with a house on a remote piece of land outside Whiskey Creek? This isn’t exactly Tahoe. If it was, maybe I’d have a shot at being discovered,” she added wryly.

      If only she would move to Lake Tahoe or LA. Or New York. The farther, the better. But her lack of resources precluded it.

      “He’s looking for some solitude,” he said. “An escape from the demands of his usual life.”

      “How long’s he staying?”

      “For a few months, like I told you.”

      “That СКАЧАТЬ