Page 8 of Nashville Lights

“It’s been ages since we’ve seen Travis and Vaughn.” Dakota puts a gorgeous, artistic arrangement of wildflowers in the middle the table.

“They’re rockstars now, Dee,” Luke points out. “You wouldn’t catch me hanging out here with you country bumpkins if I had thousands of screaming fans throwing their panties at me every night.”

“Luke William Boone,” Betty-Ann warns, her eyes darting to Daisy.

Luke holds his hands up in apology. “I just mean, I get it. They’ve got bigger fish to fry now.”

“Well, Roxie managed to make it back,” Dakota says.

“That’s because she’s missed the undeniable charm of the Boone brothers, isn’t that right?” Leo comes up behind me and plants a kiss on my cheek which makes everyone, including Daisy, laugh.

“Y’all know I’m only here for Betty-Ann’s cooking.”

Tobias clears his throat.

“And yours, of course, Tobe. That goes without saying.”

“Honey, ignore my boys,” Betty-Ann says. “We’re all just glad you’re home.”

Outside, there’s the sound of tires on gravel. Daisy hears it and lights up with excitement, climbing down off my lap and running toward the door to peer out the window.

“It’s Uncle Nate!” She pushes the screen door open and disappears out the door.

My heart skips a beat at his name.

I knew there was a good chance I’d run into him, but…now?

Seeing the others was like a homecoming, talking to them in the kitchen like slipping back into the long-ago, comfortable version of myself that I’d almost forgotten existed.

But just the mention of Nate’s name does something weird to my insides. Am I expected to sit here and eatdinner with him too, like nothing ever happened and he hasn’t held onto a big chunk of my heart all these years?

My stomach is fluttering and my heartbeat is in my throat. I do my best to keep myself calm, to stop the heat from rising to my cheeks and the secrets from writing themselves all over my face.

3

Two hours earlier…

I pullinto the parking lot of a downtown office building, wishing I was anywhere but here. I almost yank off the damn tie I’m wearing. The suit might as well be a straitjacket.

Jed was the one who used to handle this side of our property development business. The meetings with stiffs werehisarea of expertise. My area was getting my hands dirty, dealing with the contractors and making sure the day-in-day-out operations ran smoothly. Overseeing the construction, managing the building sites, dealing with the surveyors and so on. And Laney handled the books.

Now that they’re both gone, I’ve got way more on my plate than there are hours in the day to deal with it all.

I slam the door of my truck, not giving a damn that it’s covered in mud from my early morning drive through the farm to give Luke and Leo a hand getting started with the hay harvesting. They’ve got plenty of farmhands on deck, but it’s a big job and I wanted to make sure they’ve got it under control.

My meeting today is with a guy I can’t fucking stand. He’s a developer from Seattle who’s trying to cash in on the Nashville boom that continues to creep further out. The asshole had never evenbeento Tennessee until a month ago. He contacted me by video call last week and I could immediately tell he’s half con-artist and half greed-driven douchebag.

Jed was good at dealing with people. I’m…not.

I don’t have the patience for jackasses, especially if they’re only interested in making a quick buck without giving any thought whatsoever to the land itself, the heritage, the surroundings, and especially the people who happen to be a part of the place he’s intending to destroy. People who have lived here for generation upon generation. People whocareabout the place and how it’s handled and preserved.

People like me.

All this guy cares about are the dollar signs.

Jed used to say it all the time and I can still hear him scolding me.As much as I admire your scruples, man, at least part of the reason we’re here has to be about making some money.

And we have made money. A lot of it.

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