Page 10 of The Mountain Man's Secret Star
"So what are you going to do?" I asked.
"I don't know yet." She picked up a piece of carrot from my cutting board and bit into it, making a small sound of appreciation that shot straight through me. "Keisha's right—these are incredible opportunities."
"But?"
"But I keep thinking about what you said on the mountain. About finding a new place instead of trying to get back to an old one." She set down the carrot and looked at me directly. "What if I don't want to go back to Nashville?"
The hope that flared in my chest was dangerous and stupid. She was talking about career decisions, not romantic ones.
"Where would you go?" I asked carefully.
"I don't know yet." Her smile was tentative but real. "But I know where I'd like to stay for the rest of the week."
Here. She wants to stay here.
"Keisha won't like that," I said.
"Keisha will adjust." Sadie moved around the prep station until she was standing directly in front of me. "Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"When you left Calgary—did you know what you were looking for, or did you just know what you were running from?"
"Running," I admitted. "Had no idea what I'd find up here."
"And what did you find?"
You.But that was too much truth for a kitchen conversation. "Peace. Purpose. People who care more about being fed well than being impressed."
"And now?"
She stepped closer, her hand coming up to rest against my chest, right over my heart. Through my shirt, her palm was warm, possessive.
"Now that I'm here, asking questions you probably thought you'd already answered—what do you want to find next?"
The question hung between us. Her hand was warm through my shirt, and I could feel my pulse hammering against her palm. Behind us, the venison sizzled in the pan. Around us, the festival continued its cheerful chaos.
But all I could focus on was the way she was looking at me—waiting for an answer that mattered.
"I want to find out what happens when someone stays," I said quietly.
She rose on her toes, her free hand fisting in my shirt, pulling me down until we kissed.
This time, no one interrupted us.
5
Sadie
The stage lights felt different tonight. My voice felt stronger than it had in months, and I knew Grammy's honey remedy was only part of it. The real difference was the man standing at the back of the crowd, pewter eyes steady on mine like an anchor in rough seas.
Gavin had come to watch me perform.
He wasn't taking photos or videos like most of the audience. He was justlistening. Like my music mattered to him in a way that had nothing to do with celebrity or career potential. The memory of his hands on my skin in the kitchen that afternoon, the way he'd kissed me like he was starving for the taste of me, sent warmth curling through my belly even as I sang.
"This next song," I said into the microphone, my voice carrying clearly across the December air, "is one I wrote a few years ago when I was feeling pretty lost. Sometimes we all need reminding that home isn't always a place. Sometimes it's a feeling you find when you least expect it."
I started the opening chords of "Small Town Dreams," and watched Gavin's entire body go slack. His hands dropped to his sides, and even from the stage, I could see the way his breathing changed. The memory of him confessing that this song had saved his life made my throat tight with emotion.
