Cinnamon’s Courageous Heart: Sweethearts of Country Music, Book 5 Read online

  “I’m sure that wasn’t in the budget.” She pointed to it.

  Silas shook his head. “I saved by using the barnwood. Don’t worry. Next.”

  He guided her to the kitchen, which was unbelievable. She had liked where he was going with it before. Now it was incredible. The drywall and mud were painted a creamy tomato soup color, with dark gray cabinets and more barn designs on the faces. Black hardware made for an elegant but simple finish. Looking up, Cinnamon gasped at the matching chandelier and pendant lighting. She cast an arched brow at Silas who lifted a shoulder.

  “Next.” He motioned onward.

  They toured each room downstairs. The theme flowed easily from room to room. Open spaces that made travel easy with no boxy rooms. Walls were creative combinations of reclaimed barnwood or wainscoting and paint the colors of paprika, pumpkin, nutmeg, or cinnamon. Where there was wallpaper, it was in shades of mauve, burgundy, and amethyst. Each room boasted a crystal chandelier or pendant lights. In the living room were real wood beams, a sharp contrast to the white ceiling. The arched doorway was framed in brick. The fireplace sported a clean mantel and chalked hearth. It looked inviting enough to start a fire and sit.

  “All right, I know this extra stuff isn’t part of the budget. I want to see some invoices.”

  “Tsk, tsk. You just got back. No sense getting caught up in dollars and cents so fast.” He turned her around and rubbed her neck, massaging deep into her muscles. “You’re wound up tight as can be. Now tell me, are you wowed yet?”

  “Yes. You knew this would do it.”

  He kneaded, much like Jasper would. “It’s all in the details. I’ve reached a good stopping point, so I’ll go, and you scoot upstairs for a bath. Make it a nice relaxing one. I’ll bring your bags up. And I’ll take you out to dinner later. How does five o’clock sound?”

  “Do you have reservations already?” Despite herself, she leaned into his work-roughened hands. They felt so good on her neck and shoulders. Tension melted away and she closed her eyes, concentrating on breathing in his personal fragrance.

  “No. Any requests?”

  At this point she pretty much trusted him completely. “Anywhere is fine.”

  “All right. Five o’clock and we dine anywhere. See you then.”

  She almost cried when he stepped away. Her skin chilled without his touch. Still, she went slowly up the steps, trying to take in all the new things he’d done. Some of the walls were still intact, keeping the boxy look. More transoms opened them up some with light. Along another part of the hall large sections of walls were removed beginning at chest level, only to be replaced with glass blocks. The frosted glass allowed light to pass but kept the privacy of the room beyond. Bedroom doors rolled on tracks instead of swinging on hinges and each door was covered with barnwood planks.

  Chandeliers hung everywhere. He must have bought a Sam’s Club saver bundle pack of them! Some were small, some were larger, but they all adhered to the wrought iron and crystal teardrop design. Sconces lined the walls, also favoring the same design. She made it to her bedroom and cried out as her hand covered her mouth in shock.

  Wooden beams lined the ceiling, a large iron and crystal chandelier hung suspended above her bed. The walls were an inviting lilac with a medium gray accent wall. More sconce lighting and barnwood were wherever it seemed Silas could think to install them. The room was a perfect blend of country and chic. Surely, he searched her mind while she slept to know the details she longed for. And these were definitely beyond budget.

  * * *

  Cinnamon bathed in a deep clawfoot, soaking tub. She knew, without a doubt, this wasn’t in the budget. That man had some serious explaining to do. Finished, she let the magnolia and pear scented water out and dressed in a fluttery raspberry colored sweater dress. It was four-fifty-five when she heard him coming up the driveway. She glanced out. He had the car.

  “Don’t you look nice? And you smell great, too.” He lingered as he helped her into the car. “Have you ever been to Dreamweaver? It’s just east of downtown.”

  “Never. Is this going to be another wow?”

  His smile was bright and happy. “You’ll see.”

  Dressed in another fine suit, with a blue tie, he smelled of woods and rain. It was a pleasant mixture. He headed into Nashville, along the river. He handled the traffic, bridges, and pedestrians with the same calm ease Danny did. Was it a gene men were born with?

  “You drive through this very well,” she finally commented, waving at the bicyclers he artfully dodged as they tried to ride out in front of him.

  He chuckled and checked his mirrors. “Thanks. I’ve had a little practice. It’s easier in the car than in Ol’ Blue.”

  “The house looks very nice. You really hit the wow factor.”

  “And it’s not finished yet. So, speaking strictly from a contractor’s point of view, would you say you’re satisfied?”

  “I will be once I see some invoices.”

  He laughed as he crossed another bridge and turned down a narrow road. He stopped in front of a one-story brick building with a red and white awning. Dreamweaver.

  “Cool name. I’ve never been here.”

  “Me neither, but it comes highly recommended. There was a song in the seventies called Dreamweaver by Gary Wright. I love that song, even if I don’t fully understand it.”

  She pondered that as he helped her out of the car. “Is it important to fully understand a song?”

  “It helps, but there are some things in this world one isn’t going to comprehend or figure out. Sometimes it’s best to enjoy the journey without stressing the details.”

  Is that what he was doing with her and them? Just enjoying the journey? No wonder he seemed so happy all the time. So relaxed. Good advice.

  The atmosphere of Dreamweaver welcomed them with dim lighting and plenty of space. Soft strains of music filtered through the air, as did the smell of fried food and muted laughter. Cinnamon glanced at the hardwood dance floor and smiled.

  They both ordered the Tennessee hot chicken. Silas leaned across the small table and picked up her hand, thumbing circles on the inside of her wrist. Shivers crawled up her arm, blurring her mind. It was amazingly fantastic.

  “I happened to catch that countdown show. I thought the band’s dreams sounded realistic. But it makes me wonder, what are your personal dreams?

  For you to never stop rubbing my wrist. She shook her head, dragging herself reluctantly back to reality. “I admire how Katie Lyn balances motherhood with stardom and all the facets of both. She’s an incredible woman and I wish I could be like her.”

  His smile was sincere, his eyes smoldering. “I think you’re already an incredible woman, Cinnamon.”

  She gulped and reached for the iced tea glass. Her heart pounded a steady beat as she sipped the cold tart, sweet mix. “And what else do you dream of, Silas? Beyond a new work truck?”

  “I’d like to expand the business.” He leaned back, his hand slipping away. “I have my buddies I can buy for a beer on the weekends when I need extra manual labor. Except I’d like to have a small crew that can do some of the big work so I can take on bigger projects. Maybe buy some plots of land and put up cottages or something like that.”

  He moved closer, enclosing her hand back into his. His eyes softened. “But I’d save the special work for myself. I always want to handle the special work personally. I’d take my time and give them that extra attention they deserve.”

  She inhaled his woodsy scent and her breath caught at his hooded gaze and husky words. Her toes curled inside her ballet flats. He was talking about way more than construction. He briefly touched her forehead with his, then drew back enough to look deeply into her eyes. She felt them widen with anticipation, and her lips parted, and her pulse raced.

  “Cinnamon, can you trust me? I know you’ve been hurt, and I am sorry. But I’m not him. I won’t hurt you. Ever.” He sighed deeply. “I’ve been hurt before, too. I know that pain. Can you
find the courage to believe in me? To know I won’t break your heart. To please let me in?”

  Tears stung her eyes and she felt her lip quivering. “He…Alton was the one who stole my identity. I just found out. I have to think he only wanted me for my money all along.” Or what he perceived as being able to get lots of money. She inhaled, her chest burning. “I have to assume he never really loved me.”

  Silas exhaled a long breath, his soft gaze never wavering. Finally, he spoke. His words, a gravelly whisper settled on her soul like a warm balm. “He is the biggest fool alive. If you can ever trust me, to let me in, Cinnamon, I swear I will only build you up. And never tear you down.” He brushed his hand over hers, lifting it to kiss her fingertips. “Instead of breaking your heart, I only want to give you mine.”

  15

  The last four days of Cinnamon’s break flew by. She divided her time between riding Galoot and watching Silas. She loved watching him do anything. Cut wood or stone for the house. Install the cut wood or stone around her walls or fireplace. Because the house had age, he said he was trying to stay true to her heritage and not modernize her too much. He’d yet to show any receipts or invoices for the stuff he purchased and each time she mentioned the budget, he found something else to do. Kissing her was the best redirection. If room permitted, he swept her across the impromptu dance floor to whatever song he had playing.

  He showed her the songs of his genre.

  “You know, some of those could be considered country with only a few changes to the melody. Change out a few instruments maybe. The lyrics are about the same.”

  “Umm hmm. That’s what I thought. I know a few that could easily cross over.”

  And she felt Black Pony would be one that could cross over to his genre. She’d have to check with the label and see what their thoughts were. Should they even crossover so early in their career?

  They attended his concert and she was surprised to see she enjoyed it. Again, she discovered it wasn’t that much different musically from the Outlaws or any country acts she’d attended before. Then they attended her concert. It was fantastic. To see Keith Urban rocking the Bridgestone Arena was nothing short of phenomenal. She watched the screen, carefully analyzing his moves, his picking on the guitar, and how he worked the crowd.

  “Too bad the girls aren’t here,” she shouted to Silas over the din. “We could learn so much from him.”

  He shook his head. “You’re supposed to be relaxing and having a good time, not working.” He drew her closer to his shoulder. She sighed happily and closed her eyes, losing herself in the music and the spirit of show.

  * * *

  “I can’t believe it’s been five days already,” Cinnamon complained. Tomorrow morning was back to work. Tonight, was her and Silas’s last night out for almost two weeks. They were going to the Turquoise Horse, where it all began for the Lipstick Outlaws.

  “Just don’t get into any fist fights while we’re there, okay?” Silas requested. He was referring to the night Rissa defended Katie Lyn from some drunk in the audience.

  “That was at the Dancing Trout, not Turquoise Horse. Rissa might be there tonight. A lot of the band and crew frequent that place.”

  They arrived but she didn’t recognize any of the band members’ vehicles in the lot. It was packed with lots of other cars and trucks, though. “A full house.”

  Hand in hand, they entered, and she waved at a few familiar faces. They settled in a small table near the stage.

  “Who’s the band?” she asked the waitress.

  “Tools on Stools. They’re pretty good.”

  Five guys reclined on wooden stools, dressed in jeans, flannel shirts, and work boots. It could very well be Silas up there. They had a nice rhythm and the lead singer was decent. He wasn’t as decent as Kat, but maybe she was a bit biased. It was clear the crowd liked them. They soon switched to another song, a blue-collar theme that reminded her of Merle Haggard’s kind of style. These guys would appeal to the regular working men like Silas.

  Indeed, he was absorbed in their songs, tapping his foot along in time. She grinned. He might become a country fan yet.

  “Excuse me for just a minute, I need the ladies’ room.”

  Moments later she fluffed her hair and refreshed her vanilla lip gloss. With the contented smile of a woman who had everything going right in her world, she stepped back out to the lights and music. Weaving through tables, she stopped dead fifty feet from theirs. She blinked, unable to process what she was seeing. Vison cleared; it was the same view. Her chest tightened, then blood roared in her ears. A red mist swam before her vision and she lurched forward.

  “Felicity!” she snapped at the girl who sold their merchandise at the shows.

  The girl slowly lifted her head, her lips swollen and her eyes heavy.

  Silas leapt to his feet, unceremoniously dumping the girl. “Cinnamon.” He held his hands out to her.

  “Get out of here. Don’t show up at the bus tomorrow.” Cinnamon pointed to the girl. Her voice quivered but she held her arm straight, waiting as Felicity pulled herself together enough to stand up. She reeked of beer, further assaulting Cinnamon’s nose. Felicity giggled once, kissed her fingertips and pressed them to Silas’s cheek.

  “Thanks for the good time, honey,” she mumbled, then cast Cinnamon a haughty look and finally moved away. She was soon lost in the crowd who had directed all their attention to Cinnamon and Silas.

  Her blood was cold. She felt rigid as a tree. She doubted her legs would support her. Her heart slammed against her chest, painful and tight. Bile rose in a burning hot blob, settling in her throat. Tears gathered and she swatted them away.

  “How dare you. How can you talk about trust and love and all that stuff, and then do something like this?”

  “Cinnamon, it isn’t anything like you’re thinking. Nothing like it looked. I never even meet her until—”

  She laughed sharply. “Isn’t that what they all say when they’re caught? Just don’t lie anymore.” She shook her head, held out her palm to him, and backed away, sickened.

  “And don’t you run away. Let me explain. Talk to me rationally.” He took two steps toward her, and she took two steps back

  .

  “You don’t have the right to request anything.” She held both palms out now. “Don’t touch me.”

  He winced. “Cin, just don’t run. Come here.” He reached out for her. “Please?”

  He was right thinking she was going to run. She needed to get away. Her legs and heart weren’t going to hold her together much longer. More tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back. She reached into her pocket and fingered her phone, wondering who to call. Kat would be home with Madison. Rissa? Val? Nick? Yes, Nick!

  “I’m not running. But I’m leaving. And I don’t want to see you again. Please move your things out of my house and send me a bill for what you’ve done.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Cinnamon. Be reasonable. Listen to me, please. You’re way overreacting.” He stepped closer, his voice even. “Let’s go outside, get in the truck, and talk about this like two mature adults.”

  She laughed again, taking another step to the door. She shook her head. Her throat was closing off. She needed to go. “I mean it. I’m done.”

  She turned away from him, the exit sign across the room beckoning her. She fixed her gaze on it, focusing on even breaths in and out. She’d get outside and call Nick.

  “I think you’re a coward, Cinnamon Chadwick.”

  His bold declaration halted her halfway there. One word she disliked was coward.

  Slowly, steeling her breath, she turned around and faced him. He stood like an oak tree, straight, and tall. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. His face was drawn up tight. He looked as imposing as a big, solid tree. She didn’t care.

  Now that he had her full attention—as well as the rest of the patrons—he continued. “I see you on stage. You wear the leather pants and sparkly boots and you dan
ce like you’re a free spirit and untouchable. You come across as this tough, courageous woman, but I don’t believe any of it. I think deep down you’re scared and you’re still the little girl you used to be, always running away. I think you’re scared of what we’re creating between us, because you think I’ll do whatever that other guy did, so you’re trying to find some reason to end what we have and then run again.”

  She reared back, stunned. Horror and shock filling her heart and soul. Anger surged and she rushed across the floor, people scattering. She reached him and gave his chest a mighty shove with both palms.

  “You don’t know anything!” she blurted as he plunged backward.

  He crashed into a table and it splintered as it gave way. Silas landed on top of the broken heap of wood and dishware. She huffed and whirled, and marched blindly to the exit sign.

  Outside, she gulped deep lungsful of cool night air. With trembling fingers, she thumbed up Nick’s number. Waiting, and counting the ring tones, she sank down the wall to the concrete ground. He picked up on ring number five, just before voicemail kicked in.

  “Nick. Come get me. I’m at the Turquoise Horse.”

  She dropped the phone in her pocket and went around the back of the building. If Silas came out, she couldn’t deal with it. She was sure he was calling out to her as she left, but she couldn’t turn around. She sagged down to a worn stump someone probably used while on their smoke break. Cigarette butts littered the gravel around her feet.