Page 9 of Major Love

So whenever she wants to reconnect with him, she just goes to the lake and looks up at the stars.

And similarly, I had never intended to sell the bar, but the timing of everything was inexplicable. I’d woken up one morning and I justknewit was the right thing to do, and then the next day one of my best friends suggested it to me out of the blue.

My two closest friends in Nashville are naturally both country music singers, and when Colbie told me she was interested in buying the bar I could barely believe the coincidence. I was thinking of moving on, she was thinking about moving in, and I had always been able to trust her so I knew she wastheperson to take it over.

Sweet, smart, and strong – I couldn’t think of a better owner for Cash’s Bar.

“Colbie bought it,” I tell Casey. “And she’s going to keep it exactly as it is.”

“That’s amazing, Sunday,” he rumbles, and after hesitating he adds, “Proud of you.”

“Thanks,” I laugh, teasingly rolling my eyes when he ducks his head, his cheeks immediately blushing crimson after showing a hint of emotion.

I shake my head and smile. Case is a huge freaking softie.

And when I say huge? I mean, six-five huge.

“So that’s the good news,” I continue. “Because I sold the bar for, like…” I make my eyes go wide, emphasising the kind of figure that got transferred into my bank account for that transaction.

Casey nods his head, his jaw briefly flexing with pride.

“You deserve it,” he murmurs. “Now give me the bad news.”

I search his eyes with mine, embarrassed at how trivial my problems are compared to his.

Except, when money and fame are involved? Your problems stop being trivial and start getting high-stakes way too quickly.

“The day after the deal was made, I got a call from theNashville Times. They’d got a tip off about the bar – the fact that I’d sold it, and that the price was good. And, usually, that would just be a side-panel piece, because everyone knows how insane the prices are for real-estate in Nashville. Butthistip off was personal. It made the story less about the bar and more about…”

Casey watches me in silence, jaw flexing as he waits for me to finish.

“Well,” I murmur, “it made the story about me.”

He lets out a low exhalation and asks quietly, “What about you?”

I look out onto Casey’s back porch, avoiding his piercing eyes.

“Um,” I whisper. “About my affiliation with Riley.”

Casey throws his head back on a groan and I breathe out a laugh as he covers his eyes.

“Itoldyou, Sunday,” he says. “I told you not to get involved with him.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I tell him immediately, rolling my eyes as he continues groaning.

No-one dislikes country music star Riley Dutton more than my brother.

“Riley isnotmy type, Case, how many times do I have to tell you? I gave him a bar to sing in, and he gave me a country singer to have in my bar. It was a business partnership and a friendship, and wenevergot involved – that’s why the arrangement worked so well.”

Admittedly, it wasn’t without Riley trying to make something happen. But I stated it from the outset that my intentions were purely business. Being friends was just a perk, especially when the music industry can be cut-throat. It’s hard to know who to trust, and Riley was one of my two closest buddies.

That being said, I understand why my brother doesn’t like him. I mean, he’s undisputedly known as the most notorious player in Nashville. But the two of us are just friends, and I have no intentions of changing that arrangement.

The press on the other hand…

“If you weren’t involved with Dutton, what was theNashville Timestrying to push?” Case asks slowly, swiping his hand through his hair, so dark brown it looks almost black.

It’s the most beautiful contrast to his quartz-like eyes.

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