Page 99 of Playing With My Heart Strings

His eyes soften as he lets out a deep sigh. “I’m not upset with you. It was a lot to process at the time, but I’m not upset. Do I wish you hadn’t lied? Yes, but I can understand why you did.”

We maintain steady eye contact. The kind that’s comforting, not invasive.

“I meant what I said that night. It’s not a game to me. It may not have been the case in the beginning, but after getting to know you I realized what I want and that’s this. Us. And I understand if you don’t feel the same, but?—”

Dusty cups my jaw as he leans in, softly pressing his lips against mine. My stomach flutters when he pulls back for a moment before our mouths meld together again, this time with an aching passion. He kisses me like he’s deprived and craving my touch.

“I believe you,” he murmurs against my mouth while cradling the back of my head, slowly stroking my hair.

A few minutes later, we pull off the main highway onto a long gravel road. In the near distance is a white farmhouse with a wraparound porch and a manicured lawn. When we pull up to the house, a golden retriever runs up to the car, tongue lolling.

My eyebrows pinch together. “Is this…?”

“My childhood home? Yes. Come on, you’ve got some very important people to meet.” He opens the door only to get attacked by the dog. And by attacked, I mean with kisses. Dusty beams as he lightly pushes the dog off him. “Hi, girl. Yeah, I missed you, too.”

I exit the car and walk over to where Dusty is still wrestling with his dog. My shoes crunch on the gravel, and the dog’s ears perk up.

“This is Cola. She won’t bite.”

I slowly walk up to the dog, letting her sniff my hand. She deems me acceptable and flops her head into my hand at the same time the front door opens.

“Dusty, what are you doing here? And who is this?” an older woman who I assume is Dusty’s mother walks down the steps then pulls Dusty into a hug.

“Mom, this is Baylor. Baylor, this is my mom.”

I reach out my arm to shake her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Wilder.”

Instead of taking my hand, she pulls me into a hug. “I’m a hugger, sweetie. You can call me Gen, and it’s lovely to meet you as well. Come on in, you two. Mitchell is in the back, and you’re just in time for lunch.” Gen walks back up the stairs and opens the front door as Cola races back inside the house.

Dusty and I exchange smiles as we follow. The Wilder home is bright and welcoming, and I move to take off my shoes when I get in the door.

“Baylor, sweetie, don’t worry about the shoes. Cola tracks in dirt all the time, not to mention how much she sheds. You’ll want to keep them on for that alone, or you’ll be taking home a souvenir in the form of dog hair.” Gen lets out a hearty laugh.

We follow her through the house until we get to a sliding glass door leading out to a back porch and an expansive fenced yard.

“Mitch! Dusty’s home!”

A taller, older version of Dusty spins around from a grill. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s good to see you, son.”

“Dad, this is Baylor. I wanted y’all to meet her.” Dusty’s accent comes out even more here than it does in Nashville.

“Baylor, it is a pleasure to meet you. Anyone who can put up with my son here is special.” He shakes my hand with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“He’s not as bad as I originally thought,” I admit. “When I first met him, I thought he was just another self-centered superstar. But I was wrong.”

“He definitely has a way of surprising people,” Mitch grunts. “Son, help me carry some things out here?”

Dusty nods, and they disappear back into the house, leaving us out in the sunshine.

“So, when did you first realize you were in love with my son?” Gen asks, completely catching me off guard.

I almost choke on my drink, and I cough to clear my throat. “Pardon?”

“How long have you been in love with Dusty?”

“I—”

“I’ve been watching the show, you know. You look at him like he put the stars in the sky. And I know my son. He’s head over boots for you. If he wasn’t, he would have sent you home after the concert in Atlanta.” She pauses for a moment then continues in a soft tone. “When us Wilders fall in love, we fall hard, and I can see it in his eyes. He’s all in. So, if you don’t feel the same way, you need to tell him.”

---