or nothing.
“What’s up?” Casey asked. “And don’t say ‘nothing,’ Brylee Parrish, because I wasn’t born yesterday, and you look as though you might be coming down with a fever, you’re so flushed. Your eyes are bright, too. Do you feel okay?”
Brylee sighed, feeling pretty lucky herself, albeit in a melancholy way. Maybe she didn’t have a husband and a baby, but she had Casey, and Walker. Clare and Shane, too, and a lot of friends who genuinely cared about her.
“I just ran into Zane Sutton,” she confessed. “In the woods, between Décor Galore headquarters and his ranch house. Technically, I guess I was trespassing.”
Casey’s eye twinkled with amused mischief. “Is he pressing charges?” she asked.
Brylee laughed, but it was a ragged sound, brief and harsh against the tender flesh of her throat. “No,” she answered, “I don’t think so. But I still feel extra stupid.”
Casey frowned affectionately, and the joy didn’t leave her eyes. Baby Preston, cosseted inside a lightweight blue blanket, stirred against his mother’s chest. “Now, why on earth would you, of all people, feel stupid? You’re one of the smartest women I know, Brylee, and that’s saying something, because I know some sharp ladies.”
Remembering, Brylee blushed again. “I thought I was alone,” she confided. “I was...hugging a tree.”
“Oh, horrors,” Casey teased. “Not that.”
“He thinks I’m a flake, Casey.”
“Did he say that?”
“Not in so many words, but still. I was hugging a tree. And I feel like an idiot.”
“Why? Trees are excellent company. What’s wrong with hugging them?”
“You’re being deliberately kind,” Brylee accused, but with affection. Casey was the sister she’d always yearned for, and one of her closest friends in the bargain.
“Excuse me.” Casey grinned. “I happen to like trees myself—they’re good people, so to speak. I like to hug them when I get a chance. Unless there’s a reporter hiding up there in the branches, anyway.”
Brylee laughed, and this time, there was more sincerity in the sound. “I probably looked foolish, that’s all,” she said, moments later, when she was more reflective.
“And you care what Zane Sutton thinks of you?” Casey challenged mildly. “That’s interesting. Also, encouraging. Walker will be thrilled to hear it.”
“Don’t you dare tell my brother,” Brylee said, knowing the request was hopeless. Casey and Walker didn’t have secrets, not from each other, anyway.
“Are you attracted to Zane, Brylee?” Casey pressed, still smiling mysteriously. “Because if you are, I can get you a date with him. We’re friends, Zane and I—we did a movie together once.”
Sometimes, like now, Brylee forgot that her sister-in-law was a major celebrity, a famous Country-Western singer and sometime actress. She’d sung for kings, queens and presidents, racked up dozens of prestigious awards. Still, Casey was so salt-of-the-earth that it was easy to forget how well-known she actually was.
“The last thing in the world I want is a date with Zane Sutton,” Brylee said. “So forget the whole idea, please.”
Casey grinned. “Whatever you say,” she replied, with a note of slyness in her tone that unnerved Brylee a little. “But Zane is an old friend of mine, like I said. So don’t be surprised if he turns up at our supper table one night real soon.”
“Give me advance notice,” Brylee responded, “and I’ll make other plans.”
Casey laughed. “You’re as stubborn as your brother, you know that? Maybe even more so, if such a thing is possible. Do I really need to point out how many women there are in this world who would fall all over themselves for a chance to spend just one evening with Zane?”
“Invite one of them,” Brylee suggested briskly, as Snidely curled up at her feet.
Casey handed over the baby, a warm little armful that filled Brylee’s heart with love and a bittersweet yearning. “Hold your nephew for a few minutes,” she said. “I’ve had to pee for the past half hour.”
With that pithy—and typical—announcement, Casey disappeared into the house, headed for the nearest bathroom.
Brylee gathered her nephew close, lightly kissed the downy top of the baby’s head and whispered, “Your mama is right. She is the luckiest woman in the world.”
* * *
ZANE STOOD AT the edge of the woods for a few moments, solemnly surveying his “new” home—the long one-story stone house, with its big porch and many chimneys. The windows were tall and set deeply into their casings, the inside sills wide enough to sit on, and the place had a quietness about it that had charmed him, even when he’d only seen pictures on a real estate website. In person, the effect was even stronger.
Those were the things he liked about the place.
The things he didn’t like were more numerous: as he’d told Brylee out there in the woods, the structure needed a lot of work. The grass in the yard was seriously overgrown, of course, after being neglected for so long, and speckled with dandelions and other less comely weeds. As for the picket fence, weathered and falling over here and there, well, a coat of paint wasn’t going to do the trick.
Slim, spotting him, rose and ambled on over to offer a greeting.
“We’ve got our work cut out for us, boy,” Zane said, shifting his gaze to the barn. It was large and, like the house, made of stone. Unlike the house, it was in remarkably good shape. Maybe he and Slim ought to move into one of the stalls, or the tack room, while the renovations were going on.
Just then, he heard an engine, and turned to see a van pulling in down by the teetering mailbox, sides emblazoned with the electric company’s logo.
“Let there be light,” Zane said dryly, but his mind was still on Brylee Parrish, and her blatant belief that he’d change this ranch into some kind of flashy showplace.
Tennis courts? Indoor swimming pools? Media rooms?
He hadn’t even had those things in Tinseltown.
A nice condo? Sure. An expensive car that could almost fly? You got it.
By Hollywood standards, though, he’d lived modestly, and all he really wanted, even now, was a place to keep his horse—he’d missed being able to ride Blackjack whenever the mood struck him, back there in California, gotten downright lonesome for the animal’s company, in fact. The barn, four sturdy walls to keep out the wind and a solid roof over his head completed his current aspirations, as far as living arrangements went.
The van pulled to a stop in what passed for a driveway, dust billowing up around the vehicle in a cloud, and a balding man with a belly and a clipboard got out, grinning from ear to ear.
Zane drummed up a grin of his own. Put out his hand, because that was what people did in the country whenever they met
