Page 39 of Snow Much Trouble
A few people in the crowd call out greetings. This town is clearly very friendly.
"I need to tell Lauren something," Dylan continues, turning to face me fully. "And I figure if I do it here, in front of all these nice people, she can't run away again."
"That's not fair," I whisper, but I'm not sure if I mean it.
“Rule number nine: Let your roommate speak their piece.”
“We’re not roommates anymore. You live in Kentucky and I live in Nashville. I can’t do long distance, Dylan,” I whisper urgently. “It’s too hard.”
It doesn’t deter him. In fact, his mouth splits into a grin. “Is that all this is about, darlin’? Well, holy shit.”
He turns back to the audience. “This might be easier than I thought. It seems we have ourselves a little misunderstanding. Y’all ever had one of those with the person you love?”
There are nods.
I barely notice.
The person you love.
Did he say the person you love?
My heart is hammering and every thought completely flees my brain.
“You right there, in the front with the Santa hat on, I feel like you know what I’m talking about, sir.”
“Damn straight I do,” the man in question calls out. “Wife says I’m so bad at communication my lips might as well be glued shut.”
There’s laughter from the crowd.
“No fixing you, Tommy,” another man calls out.
“Well, I’m going to fix this.” Dylan turns to me and takes my hand. "Lauren. I know you think you need to choose between your career and taking a chance on us," he says, his voice carrying across the square. "But here's the thing, Lauren. I don't live in Kentucky."
I blink. "What?"
"I live in Nashville. Full-time. The distillery is in Wanted, but I live in Nashville because that's where our offices are. I thought you knew that. But I guess I never actually said that." He raises his eyebrows at the crowd. “That’s the part where me and Tommy go wrong I guess.”
There’s more laughter.
It doesn’t go unnoticed that Dylan’s accent is decidedly thicker now too. He is good with people. He warned me about that fact.
He’s good with me. If he lives in town, there is no reason I can’t date him.
"You live in Nashville?" My voice is embarrassingly squeaky.
"Twenty minutes from downtown." He takes a step closer to me.
I have to strain to look up at him now. His green eyes are drilling into me. His expression is soft.
The crowd is eating this up. I can see phones out, recording.
"I still need to focus on my career," I say, because damn it, that is true.
"I know. And I would never ask you not to. But Lauren, you can focus on your music and still let someone care about you. You can chase your dreams and still take a chance on something real." He glances at Janet. "Can I borrow your guitar player for a minute?"
"Honey, you can borrow her for as long as you want," Janet says cheekily.
The fiddle player starts a simple, familiar Christmas classic and Dylan holds out his hand to me.
