The Girl He Used To Love

CHAPTER FOUR

“THANKS FOR WASHING my clothes. I assume that was you,” Dean said, returning to the kitchen, ready to go.

“You’re welcome,” she replied as the oven buzzer went off. Effortlessly, Faith grabbed the fresh batch of cookies, set the baking tray on an empty cooling rack and went back to stacking cookies in travel containers. The woman had done this a time or two. She was in a zone.

Sleep was not something Faith apparently indulged in very often. How else could she have closed up the bar, done laundry and baked a hundred cookies all before eight in the morning? If this was normal for her, her work ethic rivaled Dean’s.

She placed a bowl of uncooked rice in front of him. “I also dried your phone.”

Dean fished it out. “In rice?”

“It’s a little life hack I learned from my friend Josie. Her daughter has ruined more than one phone in her short fifteen years.”

Dean powered up his device and silently rejoiced when it came to life. Work was his life and had been since he’d graduated from college. Hired straight out of school as a member of the Artist Development team at one of the biggest record labels in country music, Dean’s first job had been to nurture new talent and help them slowly build their careers with a string of album releases.

He’d been good at it, too, which was why his firing had come as such a shock. Apparently, product—not artist—development had become the company’s focus. Forget about supporting the creative side of an act. Sell, sell, sell.

It had made Dean furious and even more determined to prove the big guys had it all wrong. Using every penny he had saved and then some, he’d teamed up with his best friend and started an independent label with a focus on finding a balance between fostering creativity and making a profit. Grace Note Records was supposed to be the solution to all that was wrong with the music business. Dean still had high hopes. Landon not so much.

“Did it work?” Faith asked.

He had three missed calls from Landon and one from Boone Williams. “It did. Thanks again.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to make a couple calls while you finish up.”

Faith pressed a lid on one of her containers. “I’ll be ready in about ten minutes.”

“Perfect.” Dean headed back to the front room for some privacy and dialed Landon.

“You are alive!”

Dean chuckled. “Of course, I’m alive. My car got a flat in the middle of a downpour. My phone got soaked and I had to spend the night in some rinky-dink town outside of Nashville.”

“Are you back? Because you have got to do something about Boone. I’m not talking to him anymore.”

Landon Gilman and Dean had met in a business class at Belmont University and struck up an easy friendship. They both shared a love of music and had spent countless weekends at the local dive bars listening to all the undiscovered talent Nashville had to offer. While Dean’s parents had fully supported his choice to study Music Business, Landon’s parents had pushed him into accounting.

After graduation, the two had remained close friends. When Dean lost his job, Landon had been the one who planted the idea that maybe he could do this on his own. It hadn’t taken much convincing to get Landon to quit his mundane auditing job and invest in the company. It had all been too easy. Until now.

Dean took a seat on the couch. Bad news should always be delivered to someone sitting down. “What’s the matter now?”

“He’s refusing to meet with Piper. Said there’s nothing we can say to change his mind, and if we push, he’s going to blow.”

Piper Starling was young, talented and the world’s biggest Boone Williams fan. She had a passion for country music and had been lighting up the charts since signing with Grace Note.

Piper also had a father/manager who imagined her to be the next Taylor Swift. Dean had a feeling that her dad was pushing her to write her own songs and try to cross over to pop music. He also feared that meant they were going to start looking for a bigger record company as soon as she fulfilled her contract with Grace Note.

Dean had hoped that a collaboration with Boone would encourage her to stay and reignite Boone’s creativity. It would solve many of Dean’s problems. He forgot that Boone never made anything easy.

“I’ll talk to him,” Dean promised. “He’ll come around once he sees that it’s in his best interest to cooperate.”

“Cooperation isn’t in that man’s vocabulary, Dean. And Heath Starling is not happy either, by the way.”

Of course he wasn’t. Dean scratched at the back of his neck. “I’ll handle it.”

“You better, because I threw in the towel last night.” Every time Landon said something like that, Dean’s blood pressure rose to an unhealthy level. Landon had been rethinking his decision to leave the security of a boring life as an accountant thanks to their constant issues with Boone. Dean needed Landon if Grace Note was going to survive.

“I’ll text you when I get everyone on the same page. I still have to fix my tire, but I should be home by this afternoon,” Dean informed him just as Sawyer strolled in the front door, whistling away. “And I have good news. I promise. Don’t go job searching on LinkedIn again.”

“The only good news that’s going to keep me from looking elsewhere is that you’ve found another way to recoup the money we’ve invested in Boone so we can drop him.”

Sawyer might be just that. “I’ll talk to you when I get back in the city.” Dean hung up and went to the kitchen, where Sawyer had been headed.

“I’ll pick some up after I drop off these cookies,” Faith said to her brother. She smacked his hand as he reached for a cookie. “Everything needs to be perfect. Don’t cut any corners, because the people at NETA will notice, and you know how important this is.”

“I know, and I’ll get it all done before the visit next week. I promise.” Sawyer held his hand out. “Can I please have a cookie now, boss?”

Faith set one cookie on his waiting palm. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

Dean’s guilt resurfaced and so did his grief as he watched brother and sister sharing a moment. Would Addison have needed him? Would they have remained close?

“You could if you stopped doing everything for everyone else in this town,” Sawyer said before devouring his cookie in two bites.

Sawyer stepped to the right and Faith noticed Dean standing in the doorway. “Are you ready to go?”

Dean pushed his feelings back into their hiding place. This was business, he told himself. Plain and simple. Sawyer was talented and could help get Grace Note out of the red. It wasn’t personal. Faith wasn’t Dean’s problem, anyway.

“Ready when you are.”

* * *

“IT LOOKS LIKE they have the road blocked off.” Faith pulled her car up next to the young deputy who was directing and diverting traffic. She rolled down the window. “Is there another way to get on Highway 14?”

Dressed in enough rain gear to protect him from a monsoon, the deputy pulled a whistle from his mouth. “We’ve been under a flash flood warning since last night. The highway’s closed from here to Highwood. You can take Whispering Hills down and get on 14 off Brighton.”

Brighton was a good fifteen miles from here.

“My car is no more than a mile down the road.” Dean leaned forward so the deputy could see him. “I need to fix a flat and then I’ll be headed north. Can you let us through?”

“Can’t do that, sir. Road’s closed. If you had a car out there, a flat tire is the least of your problems. Check back tomorrow.” He stuck his whistle back in his mouth and blew it at someone making a U-turn behind them.

Faith could feel one heck of a headache coming on. Maybe Dean would be willing to go to his parents’ now that he had to stick around a little longer. All she knew was that she needed to get him out.

“Take Whispering Hills but turn left on Rosewood,” Dean said.

“That doesn’t go all the way through to the highway. It dead-ends at the forest preserve.”

He kept his eyes fixed out the passenger-side window. “I’ll cut through the forest and come out right where my car is. I can’t sit around all day waiting for the road to open up.”

Faith figured she couldn’t talk him out of his plan. Dean had always been a leader, not a follower. Besides, it was only drizzling now, nothing like the thunderstorm that had hit last night.

Dean grabbed the umbrella from the backseat as Faith pulled into the parking lot. “Thanks again for taking me in last night.”

“No problem.” Faith opened her door as he stepped out.

“What are you doing?” he asked. The way he looked at her made Faith want to climb back in her car and drive away.

“Going with you,” she replied, pulling her hood over her head. “What if you need help?”

His eyes definitely rolled. “I got it, Faith. Don’t worry.”

“I either wait here for you or go with. But may I remind you that you can’t change a tire and hold an umbrella over your head at the same time?” Faith could be stubborn, too.

“Whatever.” Dean closed his door and stomped off into the forest.

Spring was in full bloom and the canopy of leaves provided some protection from the rain, but not enough to keep things dry. Faith was not wearing the right shoes to go traipsing through the wet brush. Instead of their footsteps crunching leaves and snapping branches, the only sound was the wet slap of their feet in mud.

Dean didn’t wait for her or check to make sure she was okay. He barreled through to the other side, where the ground became so saturated it was more like a lake.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean huffed with his hands on his hips. Faith trudged up next to him. Her shoes and socks were soaked.

They weren’t far from the road and through the trees she could see a car—a car that would be faring better if it was a boat. Water covered the tires.

“Is that—?”

Dean nodded and exhaled an exasperated breath. His car wouldn’t be taking him back to Nashville today. Or tomorrow. Or...

He turned around and stalked off in the direction they had come. She could understand his frustration, but did he have to be so rude?

“I’m sorry about your car. I can take you to your parents’ and I’m sure they’ll be able to find someone who can help you tow it out of there,” she said, desperately trying to keep up with him.

He stopped and Faith almost ran into him. “I’m not going to my parents’. Can you take me back to the farm?”

“You could be here a few days. Don’t you think you should let them know you’re here?” The thought of being around Dean for another day, possibly more, was enough to give Faith a full-blown panic attack.

“I can’t. Please, Faith.” He didn’t have to explain. She could see it in his eyes, the pain the memories were digging up.

There was no way she could put him through that. “Fine.”

His shoulders seemed to relax at her concession.

Instead of taking off and leaving her behind, he walked with her, even held out a hand to help her step over a fallen tree in their path.

Faith lifted her leg over the log but her foot stuck in the mud on the other side, throwing her off balance. She lunged forward, still gripping Dean’s hand. He tried to steady her but she ended up pulling him down with her.

Her knee sank into the mud with a splat. She stuck out her hands to stop from falling face-first. Dean dropped the umbrella and landed on his behind. Not good. Faith tried to get up, but her feet couldn’t get any traction and she fell again, sending splatters of mud everywhere.

“Great.” Dean held his hands up, searching for a way to get up without touching the mud. It was highly unlikely in Faith’s opinion.

She started to laugh because it was that or cry. They were both ridiculous and completely helpless.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked as he fought a smile.

Faith got up on her knees and lifted a muddy hand, smacking it down on his shoulder. “We’re hopeless.”

Dean stared at the new mud print on his shirt. “That’s going to cost you.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Faith said, making a second attempt at standing. “You look more afraid of getting dirty than I do.”

The challenge had been presented and Dean Presley didn’t back down from a challenge. Faith wasn’t sure how she could have forgotten.

Dean used both hands to grab fistfuls of slop. “Not scared, huh?”

Faith’s heart beat a little faster. If she didn’t move, she would be washing mud out of her hair for sure. The twinkle in his eyes reminded her of the boy she once loved.

She thought she could escape, but standing on this sludge was worse than being on ice. Her feet went out from under her again. Dean smacked her on the forehead with one hand.

Game on.

CHAPTER FIVE

“I’LL PAY TO get your car detailed,” Dean offered as he stood beside Faith in front of her car. Her clean car.

“It’s not going to be cheap if we get in there like this,” Faith replied. Her face was hidden under a mask of mud. Even her eyelashes had globs stuck to them.

“True. You should probably pay since this was all your fault.”

“My fault?” She turned her head, her dirty hair flicking muddy water his way. “I slipped. You attacked me. We wouldn’t be nearly this messy if it wasn’t for you.”

Dean smirked. Mud wrestling with Faith was the most fun he’d had in a long time. It was like they were kids again, back when neither one of them had any worries or responsibilities.

“Also true. I’ll pay half. Can you unlock the doors now?”

They were both so dirty they’d be finding mud in places they usually never thought to check for days. Getting in meant transferring all that sludge to the light gray interior of the car. Faith let out a heavy sigh and unlocked the doors. Dean quickly called dibs on the shower when they got back to the farm.

“Nice try. I’m going to have Sawyer hose you off before you step foot in my house.”

Dean turned up the heat, smudging the button. “Oh, come on. You work on a horse farm. You’ve walked through that house dirty before.”

“Not this dirty.”

Dean tried not to lean back. Faith had scooped up a handful of mud and shoved it down the back of his shirt. It was cold and wet, and he wanted to keep the cleaning costs down. “Has anyone ever been this dirty? I don’t think so.”

One side of Faith’s mouth quirked up. “Do you remember when Addison heard about that spa in Belle Meade where they charge people outrageous amounts of money for fancy mud baths, and she thought she could get the same effect by lying in a mud puddle in one of our flooded paddocks?”

The memory of Mr. Stratton calling Dean’s parents to warn them that their daughter might smell like horse manure for a few days popped up and punched Dean in the gut. He could picture a thirteen-year-old Addison returning home wearing Faith’s clothes, which were at least two sizes too small. Faith had always been the Laurel to Addison’s Hardy. She had looked ridiculous and smelled even worse. Dean had teased her relentlessly for days after.

Faith laughed and the drying mud by her eyes cracked as the skin underneath it crinkled. “She told everyone at school that people in Europe bathed in the same stuff all the time because it detoxified the body of impurities. Jill and Veronica believed every word and asked when they could come over for a treatment.”

That was a perfect example of who Addison had been. She could sell ice to a polar bear. She would have grown up to be someone amazing. The pain in Dean’s chest made it hard to breathe.

“You probably don’t remember,” Faith said, mistaking his silence for a lapse of memory.

“I remember everything. Maybe I don’t want to talk about it. Did you ever think of that?” he asked, his voice a bit harsher than intended.

Faith stiffened in the driver’s seat. Her eyes stayed trained on the road. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought her up. I won’t do it again.”

Dean doubted that was possible. Everything in this town reminded him of his sister. It surely did the same for Faith. Maybe it was a bad idea to stay at the farm. He couldn’t go to his parents’, but he could see if there was a room open at Tanner’s. Of course, there was a greater chance he might run into his mother if he was in the middle of town. The farm was a safe distance from all the small-town eyes and ears.

A heavy silence fell between them as they made their way back. Sawyer waved from inside one of the paddocks when they pulled up. Keep your eye on the prize. Sawyer was the real reason for staying at the farm, the only reason Dean wasn’t going to call Landon and ask him to come get him out of here.

Sawyer pushed back his cowboy hat and stared wide-eyed at the two of them as they got out of the car. His dog barked, probably thinking they were creatures of some sort. “What in the world...?”

“It’s just me, Scout,” Faith told the dog. She tossed her keys to Sawyer. “Highway 14 is shut down thanks to the rain and Dean’s car is under water. I’m going to take a shower and then we can go over what you’ve gotten finished this morning. Jason’s bringing Freddy by at eleven for his session.”

She barely spared Dean a sideways glance before heading into the house. He had obviously hurt her feelings. He tried to not feel bad about it, but that wasn’t working too well.

“Care to fill in the giant blanks?” Sawyer asked Dean.

“She slipped in some mud and dragged me down with her.” Just like she’d done with her memories of Addison. “Do you think I could borrow some more clothes?”

“This relationship is becoming very one-sided, Music Man.”

“I promise, it won’t be like that for much longer.” If Sawyer proved to be the performer Dean hoped he could be, the two of them would both be reaping the benefits of this relationship.

“There you go with those promises again. You said you don’t make those.”

This promise was different. This was one Dean was making to himself.

* * *

“GREAT, I’LL HAVE the tow truck drop the car off there as soon as they can get to it. Thanks again.” Dean hung up with the auto mechanic who’d agreed to assess the damage to his car once it was rescued from its watery jail. He was praying he didn’t have to trash it and get a new one.

Having done nothing but make call after call since getting out of the shower, he wandered down to the kitchen, hoping there were some cookies hiding somewhere. Faith had made herself scarce and maybe that was for the best.

He didn’t find any cookies, so he settled for a Coke to satisfy his sugar craving. There was only one more call to make and Dean dreaded it, hence the reason he had saved it for last. Scrolling through his contacts, he stopped when his thumb hovered over Boone’s name. He needed this man to cooperate. That usually meant Boone would try to be as uncooperative as possible. It was inevitable.

He pressed Call anyway. With each unanswered ring, Dean’s desire to drop Boone, regardless of the financial loss Grace Note would incur, increased tenfold. Boone finally answered on the fifth ring.

“Save your breath, Dean. I don’t have time to babysit your little princess. Find someone else.”

“Boone...” Dean tried turning on the charm even though he wanted to wring the guy’s neck through the phone. “Have I told you lately how much I respect your honesty?”

“I’m not collaborating with anyone right now. I’ve got nothing, absolutely nothing, to give. It’s like the music disappeared from my soul.”

Dean was thankful they weren’t having this conversation face-to-face. His eye roll would not have gone over well. “I hear you, buddy. I’m taking this seriously. I talked to someone who heard that there’s this place in California where Johnny Wilmett went to clear his head a few years ago when he was having similar issues. I’m still looking into it, but I think a retreat is exactly the kind of thing you need. Somewhere your soul can reconnect with the music. Know what I mean?”

A retreat that would include Piper Starling whether Boone liked it or not. He didn’t need to know that right now, though.

“I’m not so sure. I’m trying to get my visitation rights back and Sara is being such a...”

Divorce was a killer. Fear of ending up like Boone was one thing that kept Dean cynical about love. Better to choose to be alone than to be left that way.

“We don’t have to decide today. It doesn’t have to be California. Maybe I can find somewhere closer to Nashville. We’ll figure it out. I just need you to trust me. Can you do that? Can you trust that I’m on your side?”

“I’ll trust you when you get me invited back to the CAAs. But they better not seat me anywhere near Blake Keller.”

Dean didn’t want to know what Boone’s gripe was with Blake. That was his agent’s headache, not the label’s. The good news was that Boone had a goal Dean could help him move toward.

“I’ll work on it,” he said before adding, “Having a new album to promote would be a big help.”