* * *
She met him on a night like any other
Dressed in white, the cape of a soldier
He said you’re pretty, but I can’t stay
She said I know, but I could love you anyway…
* * *
It seemed—and maybe it was simply because he still felt eyes on him—that Raven stared straight out at him when she sang, her voice deep and husky and vibrant, and if he let it, it could touch him.
Find his bones.
Could he love Raven someday? Maybe. She was sweet and hardworking and determined—never mind beautiful—and seemed exactly like the kind of girl he could love.
* * *
So they started their own love song
Found the rhythm and tone
He said he’d never found anyone
Who made him want to come home
* * *
Mack looked beyond the stage to the boats, white upon the water. Why he’d decided to flee to here, and from what, he couldn’t know.
But here, yes, he was safe.
He was Mack Jones, local hero.
She belted out the chorus, her voice beautiful and strong.
* * *
She…don’t wanna cry,
But she ain’t gonna fall for another guy.
It’s too hard to be apart
Not after she’s waited for…one true heart…one true heart…
* * *
Yes, Jethro was right—she could make it big if she wanted. This town and, frankly, Mack were too small for her. She needed a bigger world with a guy who had a real future.
Not one who always felt eyes on him, watching him, whether they were or not.
* * *
He said I’m leaving, baby don’t cry.
No, Stay with me, please don’t die.
Always, forever, together, with me
She lay in his grass, clutching eternity.
* * *
Raven dropped out the guitar for the final chorus, her voice sweet, haunting, lingering.
* * *
She…don’t wanna try,
It’s too hard to fall for another guy.
But you don’t know if you don’t start
So wait…for one true heart…one true heart…
* * *
Then she stared out into the audience.
At him.
His heart just stopped. Because in the silence right before the thunderous applause, he heard it.
The voice he couldn’t place, the one on the train and in his dreams.
The only promise you have to make to me is to not let go of the guy who saved my life.
He closed his eyes, willing the face to come to him, a piece—please—of his past.
It faded, leaving only his heartbeat.
He opened his eyes. Raven was striding toward him, grinning, holding her guitar case. She set it on the picnic table as he got up.
“So, what did you think?” She took his hand, drew him toward herself.
Oh.
“It was amazing.”
Her mouth tugged up in a smile. And then, before he could stop her, she lifted herself up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Full on the mouth, her hand clenching his shirt.
He couldn’t move, his heart thundering. She smelled so good, her lips soft, her body close to his, and a wave of desire swept over him, something that had nothing to do with her touch and everything with being wanted and needed and…belonging.
His breath trembled out, and she leaned back even as he made to bring his arm around her.
“Too soon?” she whispered.
He swallowed, then nodded. Oh, he wanted to like her. Wanted to belong here. Wanted to…be the guy who deserved her song.
Only who was the guy in the dream? The one who’d saved a life?
To whom did he belong?
Maybe it didn’t matter. He touched her face with his fingertips, not sure what to do.
“It’s okay, Mack. I’m not going anywhere either.” Then she winked and picked up her guitar. “Besides, you need a breath mint.”
He laughed and took the guitar from her grip.
But again, the eyes followed him as he walked her to her car.
RJ tried not to tremble as she stood on the porch of the Riverwalk B&B, an old house parked right next to the riverfront—the first lodging she could find when she hit town earlier today.
York was alive.
Very much alive by the looks of the kiss between him and the girl singer who’d crooned one of the Yankee Belle’s songs at him like he might be her long lost love.
No…that couldn’t be right.
It might not even be him. The man wore a beard and looked leaner than she remembered York being. Didn’t everyone have a doppelgänger?
But not everyone leaped from their perch to tackle an innocent bystander when a firecracker bit the air.
RJ, too, had jumped. Because it had sounded like gunshots. Clearly, she was still suffering from a little PTSD.
So, when she spotted the takedown, her instincts—and yes, hopes—reignited.
They had died earlier when she’d seen him get out of the car, trek over to the pizza joint, and emerge later with a large box. Such an ordinary activity for the superhero man in her mind, but she, too, had shared a pizza with him before. In Russia. Right after she was told she had to escape via the Trans-Siberian railroad.
Then, York had told her about his life, those dark blue eyes on her, and she’d felt safe and a little powerful, and it might have been the first time she realized she could love this mysterious, dangerous man.
So, no, she hadn’t been entirely sure it was York across the park eating a pizza, until the takedown confirmed it.
“Ma’am, can I get you anything?”
The voice of the waitress dragged her attention away from the white Ford Focus as it pulled away from the curb. She sat on the porch of the B and B at a tiny wicker table on a wicker chair, nursing a cup of coffee, still warm but overcooked in the pot in the kitchen.
RJ had arrived in town just as the sun dropped in the jagged horizon in her rearview mirror. Shelly was a beautiful little hamlet secreted away in the middle of Washington State, nestled along the shores of a deep blue lake.
Paradise.
She’d like to run away and hide here too. If that’s what York was doing.
What was he doing?
The Riverwalk B&B was a remodeled 1910 two-story house with four bedrooms, a wraparound porch with white wicker and green rocking chairs, and a living room decorated lodge style with a grand stone fireplace.
The kind of house that said old wealth and family legacy.
Safety.
Now, RJ looked over at the proprietress, a pretty, slender woman with long dark hair named Darcy, who ran the place with her husband, Micah.
“No. I’m…I’m done.” RJ handed the cup and saucer to the woman and drew in a breath to stop the shaking.
But inside, she might be coming apart.
Really. What was going on?
“Your room is ready anytime,” Darcy said, her gaze warm. “What brings you to Shelly?”
“The scenery,” RJ said, getting up.
“Yes. It’s gorgeous this time of year. Where are you from?”