A Winter Wedding. Brenda Novak
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can’t imagine they would,” he agreed.
She looked beyond him at the front porch. “Then I like the place so far.”
“It’s small,” he said, as if that would be a drawback for her.
“I don’t need a lot of room. I’ll just be writing some new songs.” Just. That was the understatement of the year. She had to come up with billboard gold...
“You’re planning a new album?”
“I am.” Did he know how badly Hot City Lights had tanked? That would depend on how well acquainted he was with the music world. Although the critics had liked the album, it hadn’t sold. Everyone who really counted understood that she was losing everything she’d established. She needed to win back her fans and prove to Derrick that he hadn’t bet on the wrong girl. And she didn’t have a lot of time. The further she went between releases, the harder her comeback would be. Timing might be even more critical to her relationship with Derrick. He’d recently acquired a new client, an up-and-coming artist named Crystal Holtree, whom the media had dubbed “Crystal Hottie.” Lourdes had seen the way he looked at Crystal, couldn’t help remembering when he’d looked at her that way—
“Something wrong?” Kyle asked.
Hitching her purse higher on one shoulder, Lourdes returned her attention to her prospective landlord. “No. I apologize. I was daydreaming. Shall we take a look at the inside?”
The house was every bit as wonderful as the photographs she’d seen online. It was old where old was preferable, with tall ceilings, hardwood floors, heavy framed windows and moldings, plus the original doors, complete with fancy hardware. And it was new where new was preferable, featuring an expansive kitchen, two large bedrooms, each with a walk-in closet, and completely updated bathrooms. Best of all, there was a beautiful set of French doors leading to an office, which she’d use as her music room.
Although he might have had help, her landlord had even done a halfway decent job of furnishing the place. There weren’t any window coverings, but the location was secluded enough that they weren’t necessary.
Derrick had been right; it was perfect.
So why had he decided, at the last minute, not to come with her?
Because he preferred to be with Crystal. As much as he denied that, Lourdes could feel it in her soul...
She was on her own for the first time in years, without the man she loved, who was also the manager who’d promised to take her back to number one, and without real hope that she’d be able to reclaim the momentum she’d lost in both her personal and professional lives.
Still, she had her guitar. That was all she’d started with when she moved to Nashville at eighteen, wasn’t it? If she could come up with a handful of songs that were special—no, groundbreaking—maybe it wouldn’t be too late to turn her luck around. And this place, isolated and yet familiar enough for her to feel comfortable, would offer just the refuge she needed.
“I’m ready to sign the rental agreement,” she said.
* * *
Lourdes Bennett had arrived at Kyle’s farmhouse only a few minutes after he did, so he hadn’t had time to read about her. He’d barely pulled her up on Wikipedia when he’d heard the sound of her car and shoved his phone in his pocket. But now that he was home and could surf the internet at his leisure, he’d spent over an hour visiting her website as well as exploring several other links that contained less official information.
He hadn’t been nervous about approaching a woman in a long time, but when she’d gotten out of the car, and he’d caught his first glimpse of her, he’d suddenly—and against all expectation—gone a little weak in the knees. He didn’t care about her fame. His best friend had married a major movie star, so he knew someone far more famous. It was that she was so attractive. Usually the pictures people posted looked a lot better than the real thing. That wasn’t the case with Lourdes Bennett. Her blond hair had fallen about her shoulders in a thick, wavy mass. Her skin was pale, but she also had the smoothest, creamiest complexion he’d ever seen. And her eyes! They reminded him of the azure color of the Caribbean Sea.
“Of course she has a boyfriend,” he muttered when he found a picture of her at the Country Music Association Awards posing with none other than a man identified in the caption as Derrick Meade, her manager. Apparently, her relationship with Meade went beyond business. The same caption indicated that after Derrick had helped America “discover” her, the two had started dating, and they’d been a couple for six months, even though he had to be at least twelve to fifteen years older.
That picture had been taken two years ago, before her last album came out. Kyle couldn’t find as many public appearances after the release of Hot City Lights, and nothing more about her and Derrick. But he guessed they were still seeing each other. It was Derrick who’d called to line up the farmhouse, wasn’t it? That meant he’d probably be joining her periodically—maybe on weekends—and certainly for Christmas...
Disappointed in spite of all the reasons he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, he went into the kitchen to crack open a beer. Then he jumped. Someone was at his window, peering in at him!
A second later he realized who it was. Noelle.
With a curse, he put down his beer.
“What are you doing here?” he asked as he swung open the door.
She threaded her way through his shrubbery to reach the porch. “My, aren’t you in a good mood.”
“What did you expect? You were peeping at me!”
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. Your truck’s in the drive, so I was trying to see where you were. I knocked but you didn’t answer.”
“Because I didn’t hear anything.” He must’ve been too absorbed in researching Lourdes Bennett. “What do you need?”
“I couldn’t get someone to help me with the water heater until after your office closed. A.J. and I have been trying to get in, but—”
“A.J.?” That wasn’t a name he’d heard around Whiskey Creek.
“Yeah. He works with me at Sexy Sadie’s. He took Fisk’s place when Fisk moved to Vegas and a job opened up at the bar.”
Once upon a time, Kyle would’ve known all the bartenders at the local pub. He’d hung out there quite a lot over the years. There weren’t many other places to go for fun in a town of only two thousand. But now that nearly all his friends were married, he spent most of his weekends working.
“I was hoping you’d lend me the key,” Noelle said. “We’ll bring it back after we grab the water heater.”
No way would he ever trust her with access to his office. “I’ll drive over and let you in,” he said. “But...why didn’t you just call me? I could’ve met you there.”
“Check your phone,” she said. “You didn’t pick up.”
His phone hadn’t rung; it hadn’t even buzzed. But when he pulled it from his pocket, he could see why. He’d inadvertently turned on the “do not disturb” feature.
Or maybe he’d done it subconsciously. He really didn’t want to be interrupted tonight, especially by her.
“Give me a minute. I’ll be right out.”
He went to his bedroom to retrieve his coat before scooping his keys off the counter.
It took longer to load the water heater in A.J.’s truck than Kyle had thought it would. A.J. needed to clarify the instructions on how to install it—again and again. Kyle almost offered to do it himself. Obviously, A.J. wasn’t mechanically inclined and wouldn’t be much help to Noelle. But then Kyle got a text from a number he didn’t recognize that said:
This is Lourdes.