The Girl He Used To Love

The past will always be between them

He swore he’d never return home. Then a flat tire lands Dean Presley back in Grass Lake, Tennessee, and he’s forced to confront the woman he left behind. Faith Stratton was once the love of his life. Now her gifted brother could be the rising Nashville star Dean needs for his struggling music label. But it means taking Sawyer away from the horse therapy farm that Faith’s so proud of. That won’t be easy, especially since those old feelings that started all the trouble... Well, let’s just say he can’t go back there, because he doesn’t want to relive the memories of the terrible accident that drove them apart.

Faith started to laugh, because it was that or cry.

“What are you laughing at?” Dean 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’d be washing mud out of her hair for sure.

The twinkle in his eyes reminded her of the boy she once loved.

Dear Reader,

There is nothing more important to me than family. I have two younger brothers whom I have always felt the need to look out for, even as they have grown into men with their own families. So I can relate to Faith Stratton in so many ways. Faith and her brother, Sawyer, have relied on each other since they were little. When their father died and left them in charge of running his horse farm and equine therapy center, their need to watch out for one another only grew stronger.

Dean Presley understands the importance of being there for a sibling, as well. Only, he’s struggling with the guilt of not being there for his sister when she needed him. Twelve years ago, Dean left Grass Lake, Tennessee, with no desire to return. He’d rather stay away than face the reminders of what was lost there. His new responsibility is to his record company, Grace Note Records. And what Grace Note needs is some new talent. Talent that Sawyer Stratton has in spades.

The Girl He Used to Love is a story about knowing not only when to hold on and when to let go, but what to hold on to, as well. I love my brothers, but I know I have to let them make their own way in this world—even if I am the older and wiser big sister.

I hope you enjoy this first story in the Grace Note Records series. It’s bound to be a bumpy ride, but the happy-ever-after is always worth it!

xoxo,

Amy Vastine

The Girl He Used to Love

Amy Vastine

www.millsandboon.co.uk

AMY VASTINE has been plotting stories in her head for as long as she can remember. An eternal optimist, she studied social work, hoping to teach others how to find their silver lining. Now she enjoys creating happily-ever-afters for all to read. Amy lives outside Chicago with her high school sweetheart turned husband, three fun-loving children and their sweet but mischievous puppy dog. Visit her at www.amyvastine.com.

To my brothers, Andrew and Adam. Always remember that I will be there to pick you up when you fall...but give me a minute to finish laughing!

Contents

COVER

BACK COVER TEXT

INTRODUCTION

Dear Reader

TITLE PAGE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DEDICATION

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

LUCK WAS A funny thing. People could be blessed with the good kind and then cursed with a string of the bad. Good luck made people millionaires overnight. It caused paths to cross and lost valuables to be found. The not-so-good kind led to much less desirable endings...like standing umbrella-less on the side of the road with nothing but a cell phone for a flashlight in a torrential downpour that had begun at exactly the same time as the horrific thump-thump-thumping noise coming from the front passenger-side tire.

Dean Presley was fed up with the string of bad luck that had become his reality lately. Not only was he still over an hour away from Nashville but he most definitely had a flat tire.

“Seriously?” he shouted up at the heavens.

Climbing back into his car, Dean would have given just about anything for a towel. He held his phone out until it touched the windshield, desperate for a cell signal. When that didn’t work, he reached back and pointed the phone in the other direction. Still nothing. He might as well have been in the middle of the Smoky Mountains given the complete lack of cell service around here.

He tossed the useless piece of technology in the backseat and turned up the heat, hoping to fight off the chill. He never should have gotten off the highway and taken these deserted back roads, even though he knew them well. He rested his head on the steering wheel. When it rained, it poured. Literally.

The unceasing rain might be the reason there was no one on the road. Dean had gotten off the interstate because of an accident that had shut down all lanes going north. The alternate route had been a blessing at first, but not so much now that he was in need of some help. Tonight was full of shouldn’t-haves, starting with making this trip in the first place.

Driving down to Birmingham to scout a band he’d heard about from a friend had been a complete bust. Maybe the band was having a bad night, but the drummer couldn’t keep the beat and the singer kept forgetting the words. Their lead guitarist was decent but, unfortunately for him, he was doomed to playing hole-in-the-wall bars in Alabama for the rest of his life unless he found new bandmates. Basically, Dean’s time would have been better spent searching YouTube for some undiscovered talent.

Two brightly shining headlights appeared in the rearview mirror. He switched on his hazards, praying the driver would stop, but the sixteen-wheeler whizzed by, spraying the broken-down BMW with water from the flooded road. No one was going to save him.

There was only one thing to do and that was to make a run for it. The sinking feeling in his stomach kept him right where he was, though. It had been a dozen years since he had been back to the place he used to call home. Grass Lake, Tennessee, held too many painful memories. Dean had left the summer before his senior year of college and had never come back. Not even for holidays.

Holidays were the worst.

“In and out,” he said to himself. “Find a phone, call Landon and leave. No one will know you were there.”

A flash of lightning lit up the sky, making him question his sanity. He turned the car off and opened the door.

* * *

“ANY COOKIES LEFT?”

Faith gave Old Man Middleton an apologetic smile. Every Friday night the Sundown Bar and Grill featured one of her alcohol-inspired desserts. “Sorry, Hank. I made Rum and Coke Swirled Shortbread for tonight. Those went pretty fast.”

Hank snapped his fingers as he sat on the stool beside her. “I knew I should have stopped by earlier. That’s what I get for coming for a nightcap instead of an imperative.”

“I think you mean an aperitif,” Faith said, trying hard to hold back her laughter.

“That’s what I said,” Hank asserted. He leaned across the bar. “You sure your brother ain’t got a couple hidden away? I came out in the pouring rain for your cookies.”

Faith shook her head. She’d have to run a special batch of cookies over to his place in the morning to make up for it.

Hank sat back. “Guess I’ll have to settle for the liquid version.”

Faith’s younger brother had already anticipated his order and set the drink down in front of him. Sawyer had a way of meeting people’s needs before they even knew what they needed. It was a gift he had inherited from their father. Faith’s heart ached a little at the thought.

“You got here in time to catch my second set. That’s got to be worth something,” Sawyer said.

For a couple months now Sawyer had spent his weekend evenings tending bar and entertaining the customers with a few songs. Faith had made him promise this little side job wouldn’t interfere with his responsibilities at the farm, and so far, Sawyer had made it work.

“Well, your father used to brag about you playing a mean guitar.”

The Sundown had been their daddy’s favorite place to hang out after a long day on the horse farm. He loved chatting up the other regulars and telling stories that were oftentimes more fiction than fact. Nothing ever brought the guy down.

Nothing except one fatal heart attack that ended his life way too soon.

“If you ask real nice, I bet Sawyer will take a request,” Faith said.

Sawyer shot his sister a look. Faith was sure her little brother didn’t know many tunes from back in Hank’s day, but ever the quick thinker, he offered up a suggestion instead. “Are you a Johnny Cash fan?”

“What does a young man like you know about Johnny Cash?”

“Oh, I’ll show you what I know about Johnny Cash, Mr. Middleton,” Sawyer answered with his trademark grin complete with the dimples that made every woman in Grass Lake swoon. Too bad her brother had no intention of ever settling down. He had dated a few nice girls but never let anyone get too close.

Sawyer checked his hair in the mirrored backsplash and whistled for his buddy to bring him his guitar. Faith moved to the other side of the bar to cover for her brother while he performed. She had to admit, the kid had some talent. He wrote his own songs and played the guitar pretty well for a self-taught man.

Josie Peters leaned against the bar. A widow with a teenage daughter, Josie had moved to Grass Lake a few years ago and used some of the money she had inherited from her late husband’s estate to buy the Sundown. She and Faith had become friends almost immediately.

Josie was the one who’d come up with the idea to feature a drink-and-cookie special Friday nights. She’d begged Faith to help her out after tasting one of Faith’s mudslide brownies at a potluck dinner, and since Faith had difficulty saying no, the treats were now a customer favorite.

“Did you get a look at what just walked in?” she asked, nodding toward the entrance.

The man Josie was ogling must have swum here. That or his clothes had just come out of the washing machine without going through the spin cycle. Faith would have bet that if he took off his shoe, he could fill a glass with the water that was inside.

“He must not be from around here.” The dimly lit bar made it difficult to see his face.

“Maybe I can convince him to change that,” Josie said with a wink.

Every able-bodied, single guy in Grass Lake had been on Josie’s list of potential replacement husbands since she had decided to jump back into the dating pool. She had yet to catch one in her net, so this fresh blood made her absolutely giddy.

Faith couldn’t blame her for staring at the newcomer. His red shirt clung to his chest and when he stepped further in, she could see his dirty-blond hair looked a little darker from being wet than the short, close-cropped beard he was sporting. With great effort, he shoved his hand in his jeans’ pocket and pulled out his phone. The only way that thing was going to work was if its case was waterproof.

His frustration showed as he pressed the same button over and over without a positive result. Giving up, he headed in their direction. Josie readied herself for the big introduction by primping her hair with one hand and putting the other on her hip.

“You don’t happen to have a pay phone I could use or maybe a cell phone I could borrow?” His voice was deep and husky. Now that he was close, his intensely green eyes made Faith’s heart stop. She hadn’t recognized him from afar, but those eyes...she would never forget those eyes.

“You can use my phone, stranger,” Josie said, completely unaware of who she was talking to. She hadn’t lived in Grass Lake long enough to know the man was no stranger. “You look like you’ve been standing in the rain all night.”

“Something like that,” he answered. “Got a flat on Highway 14 and had to walk here.”

“Dean?” Faith choked out, her heart pounding like crazy.

Water from his hair dripped into his narrowing eyes. She could tell the moment he recognized her. She watched the muscle in his jaw tick before he exhaled her name.

She never thought she’d see Dean Presley again, and certainly not in Grass Lake. If there was one thing she remembered clearly, it was his desire to leave this town for good. Part of her had been relieved by his decision. It had saved her from having to face him after what had happened.

She forced herself to breathe as she pulled a clean dish towel out from under the bar and tried to act like there wasn’t a heartbreaking history between them. With a plastered-on smile, she handed it to him. “This won’t help all that much, but you can at least dry your face.”

He tentatively took it and wiped his brow. “It’s been one heck of a night.”

Josie put a hand on his shoulder. “You two know one another?”

Faith and Dean exchanged a look. Faith had known a Dean Presley who was probably very different than the one standing on the other side of the bar right now. His sister had been the best friend she’d ever had. He had been her first love. She had lost them both one fateful night a dozen years ago.

“You could say that,” Dean said, handing the towel back to Faith.

“Hey, Josie!” Bruce Gibson called from a table across the bar. He and his buddies were celebrating his fortieth birthday. “Another round!”

Josie glanced at Faith, silently checking if it was okay to leave them alone.

“I’ll let you two catch up, then,” she said once Faith gave her a nod.

Faith’s throat was too dry to speak. For a fleeting moment she thought about how Addison would make fun of the two of them staring at each other like a pair of idiots.

“You look great,” Dean finally said. “All grown up.”

He had always treated her like she was a little kid. Faith and Addison had followed him around like puppies. He used to get so annoyed, but that changed the summer Faith was eighteen. That was the year he’d finally looked at her as someone other than his baby sister’s friend.

“That’s what happens. Time passes, we grow up.”

Dean swallowed hard and nodded. “That’s true for most of us.”

She really was an idiot. Not everyone was lucky enough to grow old. Seeing him had caused her to lose her mind. She pulled the cordless phone out from under the bar. “You can use this,” she said, setting it in front of him.

He thanked her and seemed anxious for their reunion to come to an end. She moved on to another customer and tried to keep her emotions in check.

Josie cut the music that played throughout the bar and welcomed Sawyer back to the tiny stage in the corner, barely big enough for the two of them to stand on. Josie stepped down as Sawyer strummed his guitar. He gave Hank a shout out before singing his version of Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire.”

For some reason the song seemed to give Dean pause. He hung up and set the phone down. Dean had always had a thing for country music. People used to tease him given his last name and his complete inability to carry a tune, but Dean didn’t have to play music to love it. Addison used to call him obsessed. When Faith was a kid, she wished he was as passionate about her as he was about music. Now, she’d give anything to go back in time and make sure he never gave her a second thought.

She realized she had been staring when Dean waved her over.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked him, his eyes returning to her brother.

“No, but you can tell me who that guy is.” He pointed in the direction of the stage. Maybe he was as surprised as Hank that a young guy could make such an iconic country song his own. That was what Sawyer did best, take something old and make it new.

“That’s my brother.”

His wide eyes showed his surprise. He held a hand waist high. “That’s your little brother?” Twelve years ago, Sawyer had been a scrawny middle-schooler.

“That’s what my daddy told me when they brought him home from the hospital. Although, I often wonder if the doctors pulled a switcheroo.” Her attempt at lightening the mood fell flat. Dean went back to watching Sawyer with intense interest.

After the cover song, Sawyer sang one of his originals about chasing fireflies. He’d never admit it, but that song had something to do with their mom. She had run off and left them behind when Sawyer and Faith were just kids, but before that she had been the one who would take them out on a hot summer night armed with a pickle jar and a lid poked with holes. He pretended to hate her. Maybe a little part of him did, but there was another part of him that missed her as much as Faith did.

“Can you reintroduce us when he’s finished?” Dean asked when the song came to an end.

“Why? You want him to help you change your flat tire?”

“No,” he answered as if she hadn’t been kidding. “I want to make your brother a star.”

CHAPTER TWO

DEAN SHOULD HAVE left the moment he realized he was sharing space with none other than Faith Stratton. At the very least, he should have stayed on the phone, begging his business partner to come rescue him so he could get out of this town before anyone else spotted him. Though, given their history, it was unlikely Faith would go running to his parents’ house to announce his arrival.

Gone was the little girl who had been attached to Addison’s hip and the sweet, doe-eyed teenager who had made him lose his mind and his sister in the process. In her place was a gorgeous, dark-haired, grown-up woman. Those warm brown eyes were still capable of stopping a man’s heart, but everything else had changed...matured.

Seeing her stirred up feelings he preferred to avoid, bury, pretend he never felt. Dean was the master at hiding his true emotions. He also had a knack for keeping his personal life very separate from his business life, and this detour into Grass Lake had quickly become business.

Sawyer was the answer to Dean’s prayers. It had been a long time since he had heard someone sing with such real emotion. He had noticed it during the Johnny Cash cover; he had felt it during the second song. Dean needed to talk to this guy and get him in front of Landon immediately.

With her hands on her hips and her chin tipped down, Faith frowned in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s amazing, Faith. I could introduce him to some people in the business. Does he write his own stuff?”

Her eyes gave away her wariness. She folded her arms across her chest. “Sometimes.”

That was a plus and made the guy that much more desirable. “I have a legitimate record label with real artists signed to it. He could have a real music career.”

“My brother helps me run the farm. Singing is what he does for fun, not for a living.”

Before he could explain how that could change, Faith was called away by another customer. Dean had worked at the Strattons’ horse farm and equine therapy center that last summer in Grass Lake. It was a worthwhile business, but Dean knew how much work went into it. Hopefully, Sawyer would be a little more excited about Dean’s proposition than his sister was. He was exactly what Grace Note Records had been looking for—young, attractive and, most importantly, talented.

Bringing in a potential new artist would ease Landon’s mind and keep him from giving up on their company. Without Landon, Dean would have to close up shop. He didn’t have the capital to buy his partner out.

The rest of Sawyer’s set finished strong. It didn’t matter if he was singing a cover or an original, the songs all sounded as if every note belonged to him. He had a unique sound that would do well on the radio.

Faith approached her brother as soon he stepped off the tiny corner stage. She whispered in his ear and he immediately glanced in Dean’s direction. The two siblings exchanged a few more words before Sawyer made his way to the bar.

“Dean Presley—long time, no see.” Sawyer Stratton looked more like his father than the boy Dean had once known. He had big, brown, soulful eyes and chiseled features that would definitely make women swoon when he was on stage. There was nothing scrawny about him and he might have been an inch or two taller than Dean. “You got something against umbrellas?”

Dean could only imagine how ridiculous he looked as the two men shook hands. He ran a hand through his towel-dried hair and glanced down at the puddle of water that had collected under his bar stool. He was a wreck.

“I’ve got nothing against umbrellas. I would have loved an umbrella tonight.”

“You in town for the weekend? Your mom didn’t mention you were coming home when I saw her earlier this week.”

Dean loved his mother, but he would have to convince Sawyer not to mention this visit. “I wasn’t planning on being in town at all. I was headed back to Nashville after a scouting trip to Birmingham. If my car hadn’t gotten a flat, I never would have heard you sing. You were a million times more entertaining than the band I saw earlier tonight. Did you write some of that set yourself?”

“About half.”

“Ever post songs on the internet? Have any social media presence?”

“Nope. No time for that. Only place I play is right here,” Sawyer said.

“What if I told you I could give you lots of time to play music?”

“Oh, yeah? You want to make me the next Boone Williams?” Sawyer snickered like it was a joke.

Country star Boone Williams had been the first to sign with Dean’s label after the singer had a falling out with his record company. At the time, it had seemed like a huge win. Little had Dean and Landon known the problem was more Boone than it was his label.

It had been five years since the megastar recorded an album and three years of nothing but bad press. Stories of infidelity, drug and alcohol problems, divorce and a child custody war circulated ad nauseam. Dean had convinced Boone to go to rehab, but the guy was still in a fragile state, claiming with his sobriety had come a complete loss of creativity. There were no songs to record in his near future.

Lately all Boone did was cost Dean money. Sawyer would not become another Boone. Dean’s gut told him he had a gold mine in front of him. “I want to make you the next Sawyer Stratton.”