Nashville Sweetheart by Rachel Hauck

Author:Rachel Hauck
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2010-09-09T16:00:00+00:00

20

Scott

Saturday, July 21

For the first time since Rafe and I left Nashville in the twilight dawn, I allow myself to think about what I’m doing.

“Her brother wants to be alone,” Jeremiah warned me when I told him about Peter James calling Aubrey that day we played one on one. “My guy in Florida spooked him.”

“Where can I find Peter?”

“Destin Beach. Runs a deep-sea charter and goes by the name Captain Pete.”

“I owe you man.”

“Scott, he wants to be left alone.”

“Jer, you didn’t see her face when he called.”

Rafe reaches forward and ups the volume on the radio as my Porsche speeds west along Florida’s Gulf Breeze Parkway. Aubrey’s voice serenades us.

She wore a big green hat

On top of her red hair

And a pair of blue shoes

I can see from over here

“You’re falling in love with her, aren’t you?” Rafe says.

“She’s engaged. I’m doing this for the story.”

“Right, the story.” Rafe laughs low.

I glance at him. “You saw her face Thursday.”

“Yeah, but I got the feeling she doesn’t want you or anyone else bringing her brother home.” Rafe taps out the beat of the music on his leg. “At least you’re moving on from that chick, what’s-her-name.”

“Brit.”

“Yeah, Brit. Granted, this is the dumbest possible way, but at least you’re moving on.”

I snort a laugh. “ This is for Sam and his stupid story.”

“Keep lying to yourself, you might just believe it. We’ve already got the CMT deal.” Rafe rolls down his window, and warm salty air rushes in. My Google map slaps against the dash, then flies out the window.

“Rafe!” I snatch at the paper as it whips by. In the next second, it’s highway litter.

“Sorry, man, wanted to pour out my Coke.” He holds up a gigantic 7-Eleven cup, angling his arm out the window.

“Rafe, wait—” I’m going too fast to empty a drink. Sure enough, the wind jerks the cup out of his hand, and watery Coke sprays all over the leather seats.

“Holy cow, man, can’t take you anywhere.”

“Simmer down, it’s just sticky water.” Rafe reaches for a pile of McDonald’s napkins. “Leather cleans up easily enough.”

I laugh. It’s too great a day to be mad. Especially at Rafe. Clicking off the air, I roll down my window, too, and jut out my elbow. The air is hot and muggy, the scene along the highway postcard perfect. Clear horizon, white sandy beach, a pelican flying low over blue-green water. The color reminds me of Aubrey’s eyes, but I don’t say that out loud. Rafe would never let me live it down.

“Does it get any better than this?” Rafe leans out his window. “Remind me to move here one day.”

In the next half hour, we find our Holiday Inn (without the map), check in, and grab a bite to eat at Joe’s Crab Shack.

“What’s the plan?” Rafe tosses aside his crab legs shell and licks butter from his fingers.

“Find Captain Pete. Jeremiah said he docks at Harborwalk Marina. Vessel’s name is GoneFishing.”

“And if he’s not willing to talk to you?” Rafe’s eyes widen with doubt.

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