Dances Under the Harvest Moon (Heartache, TN 3) Read online

“Redheads don’t do fuchsia. And yes, your brothers-in-law are definitely turning heads.” Armand and Landry Weldon were as handsome as their brother, Remy, and their Cajun accents had all the women in town swooning.

  Erin tugged the dress off the hanger anyway. “It’s berry, not fuchsia, and don’t argue with the bride.”

  “Okay, but keep in mind you’ll have to see this eye abomination in your wedding album for the rest of time.” Heather slid off the simple lavender maid-of-honor dress, which Erin had let her choose for her big day. Laying it on the bed, Heather slipped the bright jersey over her head and pulled the fabric to cover her hips.

  It was surprisingly comfortable, even if the diamond-shaped cutouts bared skin on either side of her waist.

  “Hoochie mama.” Erin whistled. “Now that’s a dress.” Picking up the discarded daisy floral crown from the bed, she pulled three flowers out of it and tucked the stems behind Heather’s ear. “You ready to have some fun?” Her cornflower-blue eyes roamed Heather’s face.

  “I’m ready.” She would have to delay her great escape for a few hours to make her sister happy. She hoped her joints stayed quiet for a little longer. Her right wrist throbbed a little, but she could ice it later. “I’m simply not going to look in any mirrors.”

  “Would I send you out into the world unless you looked gorgeous? Give me some credit. I’m kind of a professional at dressing people.”

  True enough. Besides her work at Last Chance Vintage, Erin had single-handedly started a hugely successful Dress for Success initiative to help women in tough economic situations find great outfits for job interviews. So many clothes had been donated to the cause that Erin had enough to sponsor a mobile unit that traveled to remote parts of the state where poverty was the worst.

  “I know. I don’t always have the same bold aesthetic as you.” But she was going to try harder, right? She’d promised herself that when she left town, she would start breaking a few rules. She had a lot of lost time to make up.

  “Once you’re competing on American Voice in front of the whole country, you’re going to have to find your boldness.” Erin swept Heather’s long red curls behind one shoulder. “Why don’t you practice tonight by letting your hair down and shaking your moneymaker?”

  Erin swatted her on the butt before darting in front of her and rushing down the stairs, cackling the whole way.

  “My moneymaker?” Heather called down, following more slowly. “I’m definitely going to tell your groom to cut off your champagne supply,” she teased as she spotted Remy in the kitchen at the foot of the staircase.

  Surrounded by his brothers, along with Zach Chance, the very man Heather had been avoiding, Remy seemed to be involved in a drinking game. All four guys held shot glasses in hand, a dark bottle resting on the open bar cabinet between them.

  “Looks like we’ve moved beyond champagne,” Erin noted dryly, pulling her new husband’s attention from his empty glass.

  Remy’s approval of the dress was obvious as he moved toward Erin faster than if magnets pulled them together. He kissed her thoroughly, to the delight of his brothers, who contributed howls and wolf whistles that drew the attention of the catering staff in the kitchen. Zach kept his eyes on Heather, his quiet, focused gaze missing nothing.

  “We’re taste-testing Harlan Brady’s distilling efforts,” he informed her, pulling another shot glass out of the bar cabinet while Remy and Erin finally came up for air.

  Zach wore khaki pants and a vest, his jacket discarded in deference to the warm evening. The guys in the wedding party were dressed similarly, with gray vests and pants. One of Remy’s brothers had lost his tie, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. But no matter, the group of men in the farmhouse dining room made for a formidable bunch, all thick shouldered and well built.

  Still, it was Zach who held her attention. He’d grown up in Heartache, so he was a local guy. Yet even back in high school, he’d exuded a prep-school vibe, which suggested more money and better breeding. The more-money part was true—his father had made a fortune in the stock market. But the better-breeding part? Not so much. Zach’s dad went to jail for securities fraud, creating a huge scandal in the small town and far beyond. Zach worked hard to make people forget that, by volunteering at a nursing home as a teen, charming all the teachers and generally doing everything “right.”

  His light brown hair was perfect, for example. Neither too short nor too long, it always looked as though a woman’s fingers had just tousled a few strands. His clothes were well pressed, surprising after a day when everyone else was starting to rumple.

  To be honest, he had looked like the mayor when he was a senior in high school. Heather had been a year behind him. He’d left town for college on the West Coast and returned last year wealthier than before. Not that Heather cared about any of that. If anything, it made it tougher to like Zach, as he had the appearance of a man who breezed through life, while others slogged to get ahead. No, the thing that drew her to Zach was simply this: he had a slow, brooding way of looking at her that made her insides tingle. She felt the awareness hum through her now as she closed her eyes to force herself not to look at him.

  “Count us in,” Erin announced. “Heather?”

  She opened her eyes, her cheeks heating. “What?”

  Erin waved her closer, but Heather kept her gaze locked to Remy’s. “If Harlan brewed it himself, it seems only polite we give it a try.”

  “I draw the line at moonshine.” She edged around the newlyweds to stand closer to the door. How could she drink Harlan Brady’s potent brew when she planned on driving tonight?

  Not to mention the medications she’d already started taking. Two of them came with the “absolutely no alcohol warning” label.

  Zach set a fresh glass for Erin on the counter and followed Heather out of the dining area. “Wise move skipping the home brew.” He lowered his voice for her ears only as they passed through the family room toward the glass doors leading to the patio. “Harlan’s got a ways to go in his distillery skills.”

  “You being an expert in moonshine?” She wasn’t the sarcastic type, but the words leaped out anyhow.

  Something about Zach’s polished ease had always ruffled her a little. Maybe she envied his confidence. His perfect sense of belonging at all times. He’d done such a good job separating himself from his father’s criminal life, emerging a small-town hero when he took over the mayor’s job after Heather’s father had passed away. Only a few weeks after he’d arrived back in Heartache, in fact.

  “Connoisseur of moonshine is on the list of qualifications for mayor. I thought it best to prepare myself for the job.” He paused near the fireplace, not moving any closer to the patio doors.

  Country music vibrated the window panes, the tempo of the night kicking up a notch.

  “My father must not have been as dedicated,” she shot back, reminding him of the Finley family’s lock on the mayor’s seat for over a decade.

  She was jittery and off balance. She told herself it was because she’d already had one foot out the door when Erin had thwarted her plan to take off. It definitely wasn’t because of the way Zach Chance wore a shirt. Or the way he smelled like bay rum and sexy male.

  Realizing how close they stood, she skittered a step back.

  “I’m pretty sure your father just kept the still far from the house.” Zach surprised her with a smile.

  The easy, lazy, heir-to-the-throne smile that had won him the job after her father died. Not that Zach had campaigned. He was the write-in candidate of choice—a natural leader. His return to town had been front-page news in the local rumor mill.

  “He did like a good tailgate party,” Heather admitted, even though Zach was teasing. Probably. “I’m pretty sure he chose to entertain far from home to ensure none of us would embarrass him.”

  “Everyone k
new how much your father loved his family.” Zach turned serious. “Family first, right?” He quoted her dad’s favorite line, which he had often used while assuring the people of Heartache that they were all part of his personal clan.

  “So he said.” However, her father had spent very little time with his flesh and blood and made very little effort to help manage his wife’s severe bipolar disorder. All his energy went to building a business and then rebuilding the town. She took another step back, her ankle jamming into an ottoman. “I’d probably better check on my mom.”

  Yeah, color her lame. She always made excuses to escape from talking to cute guys by running to mama. But she had too much emotional flotsam in her head to sort through whatever was happening between her and Zach.

  “Of course.” He was so smooth, so socially adept, he never let on that he found her as awkward as a preteen. Straightening, he reached for her. “May I?”

  His hand hovered near her cheek.

  Her heart rate spiked and she didn’t trust herself to speak. Let alone move. She managed a nod.

  Gently, he pulled away two of the daisies that Erin had tucked behind her ear. She’d forgotten all about them.

  “Two of these are turning the wrong way.” He set them aside and adjusted the one remaining flower, giving her plenty of time to absorb the warmth of his fingertips against her scalp. The silky flutter of her hair along her neck as he moved a few strands.

  Her mouth went dry. She stood so close to him, her gaze eye level with his throat and the strong column of his neck above his crisp white collar. Despite the dimly lit room, she could see the bristle of whiskers shadowed there. Imagine the feel of his skin if she were to touch him.

  Disconcerted by those thoughts, she risked a glance higher. Only to have her gaze drawn to his square jaw and full, sensual mouth. Quickly, she looked down.

  Only to see his broad shoulders and lean torso tapering to narrow hips. Strong thighs.

  “There.” He stood back to admire his handiwork.

  Not—she reminded herself—her.

  Her face flamed as she mentally finished undressing the mayor. What was wrong with her?

  “Thanks,” she muttered, cursing herself for noticing Zach.

  Fleeing the scene before she did something stupid—like taste the moonshine or possibly even the man—Heather rushed out of the house and away from temptation. Unfortunately, she couldn’t escape from the images now burned into her brain after that close encounter. Why the hell had she let her imagination run away and not the rest of her?

  She had no idea what he’d been thinking to corner her like that. What did he want from her?

  She sighed. Heather had taken a lot of time to sew up loose ends in town so she’d be ready to leave Heartache after Erin’s wedding. Now her sister was married and laughing in the kitchen with her new husband. Heather’s work here was done. She had a life to get on track and an illness to battle.

  The sooner she left, the better. Zach Chance could remain safely in her fantasies and well out of her life.

  CHAPTER TWO

  RUMOR HAD IT that Heather Finley was leaving Heartache.

  Zach just hadn’t realized she would be going at a dead sprint.

  Now, three hours later, he drove around the outskirts of town in an ’87 Mercedes convertible, a relic from his dad’s heyday as a car collector. Zach had hoped the night air would blow some sense into his head, but half an hour into the drive and he still stewed over the fact that Heather Finley was moving on.

  That sucked for several reasons, not the least of which was that he had his eye on her. She’d fascinated Zach back in high school. The world would be at a fever pitch around her—a pep rally, a football game or a fight in the hall—and she’d be the calm eye of the storm, her long auburn waves always falling in perfect curls along her shoulders. Her clothes were timeless and feminine when every other girl in school decided combat boots were the thing to have. Heather was never part of an in crowd, yet everyone liked her. She championed other Finleys, never showing up at school functions unless she was there to support her drum-majorette sister or her football-playing brothers.

  Zach had been curious about her then, but he’d needed to move on after school to put his father’s crimes behind him—along with his own guilt at the way his sister had fallen apart afterward.

  Pounding a fist on the steering wheel, Zach turned onto the interstate at the last minute, needing to pick up more speed than the roads around Heartache allowed. Sure, he had an aversion to scandal after the media circus of his father’s arrest, but that didn’t mean he led a perfect life. He just chose his moments to put the gas pedal to the floor and blow the cobwebs out of his head.

  He knew Heather would be a perfect mayor for Heartache. She’d grown up there. She clearly cared about the town, what with all the hours she volunteered at the recreation department, spearheading summer volleyball leagues and importing talented coaches to conduct camps for their youth. Plus, she had business sense, evident by her successful storefront with her sister. The fact that she had a thriving sideline as a private music teacher proved how much all the local kids liked her. And of course she juggled all of that and still looked after her widowed mother, taking Diana Finley to doctor’s appointments for the bipolar disorder that had crippled her for years, and making sure her mom stayed on her medicine.

  Heather was a quiet dynamo.

  Cranking up the radio louder, he tucked a finger in the knot of his necktie and loosened it a fraction of an inch, just enough to unfasten the top button of his shirt. He should have made his personal interest in Heather known earlier this year, but he’d been steamrolled by work and then—when he’d planned to see her at a rec-league soccer tournament she’d organized—he’d discovered she’d gone out of town on a buying trip for Last Chance Vintage.

  The timing had been crap, as it had been since he’d moved back to Heartache. Shortly after he’d arrived, she lost her father, the town’s previous mayor. Definitely not the time to start something with her. Then he’d gotten caught up in small-town politics when the town council had called him to fill the vacancy. He’d gotten the most write-in votes, tying with a country star, a comic-strip dog and Heather Finley herself. The council had talked him into it, slyly suggesting that Heather—a sensible woman with “a good head on her shoulders”—might be persuaded to take over the spot in the future.

  So, yeah, Zach hadn’t just been interested in Heather personally when he approached her tonight. He’d also wanted to see if there was any chance in hell she’d be done with this itch to audition for a singing show in time for the next election. She’d volunteered with the town’s recreation department for years, as civic-minded as the rest of her family. Zach planned to offer his campaign skills himself if it meant quitting the job to make time for personal business he needed to follow up on. Besides, he hated the petty infighting and backstabbing of small-town politics and had little patience for it, whereas he pictured Heather smoothing over it all with one wave of her capable hand.

  Too bad Ms. Good Head On Her Shoulders was committed to ditching the town she grew up in.

  Frustrated about his failure with Heather, he was distracted by the time he saw a car on the side of the road. A vehicle ahead of him had moved to the passing lane to avoid the blue sedan on the shoulder that looked kind of familiar...

  Heather?

  Taking his foot off the gas, Zach squinted at the older-model luxury-sized Nissan on the shoulder of the road. A heart-shaped bumper sticker was prominent in the back windshield—the logo for Erin Finley’s Dress for Success program. No doubt about it, that was Heather Finley’s car on the side of the interstate.

  He slammed on the brakes.

  He pulled onto the shoulder a few hundred feet in front of her, and checked his rearview mirror to be sure there was no one in front of the car. Sl
owly, he put it in Reverse.

  It was past midnight. Other cars flew by them at seventy miles an hour, the headlights a blur. The sedan had been parked with no lights on, not even the hazards. He couldn’t see anyone in the vehicle. What the hell?

  Stepping out of the convertible, he shut the door and jogged back to the other car.

  “Zach?” Heather’s voice rose from outside the car...somewhere near the rear passenger fender as she straightened from wherever she’d been crouching. “Is that you?”

  She still wore the knockout dress she’d changed into for dancing at her sister’s reception. Bright, short and clingy, the dress gave him a whole lot of reasons to like it. He’d bet money her sister had chosen it for her since Heather was the type to wear gray flannel pencil skirts with creamy silk blouses. Both of which now occasionally figured in his fantasies. But the bright pink showed off a whole other side of Ms. Proper.

  A tractor trailer barreled past them, rattling his teeth.

  He edged between his bumper and her hood.

  “Car trouble?” He forced himself to be casual as he leaned against her car. Friendly. The last thing he wanted was to send her running again.

  What if fate had kept her in town—right where she belonged?

  “So it would seem.” She bit her lip, her hesitation illuminated by the single headlight of a speeding motorcycle. What was it about him that had her putting up defenses when they barely knew each other? She sighed. “And I was starting to get paranoid that I heard someone in the bushes over there, so it’s nice to see a friendly face.”

  Zach peered into the dark woods off to the side of the highway, his skin chilling with an old memory of those woods. His fists tightened and he forced himself to relax.

  “That land backs up to the quarry. There haven’t been cougar sightings in town for a long time. Although a black bear could be trouble.” Was it wrong to try to terrify her into jumping into his arms?

  “Yes. Well.” She rolled her eyes. “Lucky for me you’re here.”