Page 15 of Nashville Lights

My little sister’s best friend, and my childhood best friend’s little sister, who hasn’t been back since before her brothers’ career went into overdrive. Or at least not when I was around.

Dakota never mentioned Roxie was coming for a visit. Kade never mentioned it either, even though I talked to himaround a week ago. We talk once a month or so. He told me he had the time, now that their tour is over, to catch up for a beer sometime soon.

I place Daisy down on the chair next to Roxie’s and make a point of not staring, even though it takes everything I have not to. Roxie Tucker is no longer the gangly teenager running wild that I remember. No, the woman in front of me is all grown up…andholy hell. My addled brain can hardly handle the extent of how fucking gorgeous she is, sitting here all almost-innocently like she isn’t detonating a bomb in the middle of my chest right now.

Her dark hair still hangs as long as it always did, but it’s thicker now, cut in a fancier style, falling in shiny waves that catch all the golden light of the antique pendant lights hanging over the kitchen island.

Those same vivid blue eyes that used to spark with mischief now hold a depth that’s downright intoxicating. The years peel away and I’m nineteen again, battling with myself for not being able to resist kissing my best friends’ little sister.

She was a kid then. She caught me off guard once and I allowed it. More than allowed it. I was fucking destroyed by it, in the best possible way. But it was a mistake. Of course it was. She was only fifteen.

She’s not fifteen anymore.

My family is doing their usual thing of joking and chattering like it’s going out of style, but I barely hear any of it.

“Roxie Tucker,” I drawl, trying like hell not to betransfixed by the shape of her mouth and the way she’s filling out that cowgirl shirt.

Damn it.I force myselfnotto react to her the way my body wants to. There are children present. And younger brothers who would love nothing more than to turn an old, speculated-about spark into tonight’s entertainment.

“Nate Boone,” she says, almost sassily, maybe tuning in to the fact that my greeting isn’t so much a greeting as it is a long-built system of defense. There’s not a single day that’s gone by that I haven’t at least once lingered over that memory of our long-ago kiss.

Damn, that kiss was sweet. The sweetest I ever had.

Our eyes are locked as we both deal with the shock of seeing each other again. Her smile is slow, her eyes full of all those old memories of our childhoods together, and also the ones just the two of us share. I can practically feel the air crackle with her wildfire effect.

Keep it together, Boone.

Daisy tugs on my hand, a reminder that I’m not just Nate Boone, I'm Uncle Nate, and there’s comfort and an anchor in that. The rest of my life might be a blur of problems to be solved, but I’m solid as a rock when I’m Uncle Nate.

“Uncle Nate, this is my new friend,” Daisy informs me, as if I’m not already acutely aware of the woman who’s suddenly filling the room with a whole different kind of light. “Her name is Miss Roxie and she’ssobeautiful.”

She sure the hell is.

“Can I get some pink cowgirl boots, Uncle Nate? To wear when I’m riding my new pony?”

“Of course you can,” I hear myself say.

“Look at Miss Roxie’s. They have pink on them!”

I’ve spent ten years trampling all my emotions down into some deep reservoir inside myself, where they can’t affect me too much. I’ve had too much work to do and too much tragedy to cope with and too many people to take care of to let any of it rise up enough to actuallyfeel.

I do it again now. She’s here for the weekend and only the weekend. Then she’ll be back on the road, her life full of traveling the world.

I’m a father now, or close enough, with commitments that take all my time and focus.

I almost don’t do it.

I don’t know if I can control myself enoughnotto give away all those deep-rooted feelings I’ve had for Roxie Tucker my whole life, right here in front of my very observant family.

So I steel myself. I lean in and kiss her cheek, keeping my tone as light as I’m capable of. “Hey, Rox. Good to see you again.”

The scent of her, of hothouse flowers, warm sunshine and all my best memories makes me almost dizzy.

“Good to see you too, Nate. You look…good. A little more buttoned up than the country boy I used to know, but I like it.” More of the sass, but she’s gentle about it, like she knows I’m only wearing these city clothes because I was forced to by circumstance.

I pull off my tie and take off my jacket. “I might as well be wearing a noose and a straitjacket. And those stiffs from Seattle weren’t worth dressing up for.”

Our gazes hold even though I’m trying not to drink in the sight of her like I’ve been wandering across a desert for the past eight years and suddenly come face to face with a lush, gorgeous oasis.Fuck, she’s pretty.

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