have mattered where he was touring. He could have postponed the shows...but he hadn’t. With that, and the way he’d misrepresented his upbringing, refusing to acknowledge their existence, he couldn’t blame them for disowning him.
The Snake’s persona claimed he had bounced from one foster home to another, barely remembering his mother. Some reports suggested she was a prostitute, others said she had died. Either way, it hadn’t sat well with his parents. He’d even given interviews about his hatred for his parents and how they had better not show up asking for a handout.
Adam’s hands fisted. It was an act. An image created to sway the public into believing good could come from bad. None of it was true. Adam had hated the idea from the start. But that hadn’t stopped him from going along with it. All connections to Texas vanished with his new name and look. The country-singer hopeful had become a hard-core rock star.
Adam raked a hand through his freshly shorn hair. The plan had drifted off course. The country labels thought his edgy songs and playing style pushed the genre too much and suggested he either dial it back or head in the hard rock direction. He wouldn’t allow anyone to stifle his creativity. Toning it down wasn’t an option. Amping it up was.
The money and fame had been amazing at first, but it had come at an enormous expense. His first manager had only seen dollar signs when he’d created Adam’s image. But he’d done his job well, because it had gotten Adam in front of the right record labels. When he’d formed his backup band, Adam had kept the facade. Feeling they could do better, the band had collectively fired their manager and hired a new management company. They’d signed a five-album deal within three months. Their big break had arrived and Adam had told his new manager the truth, wanting to end the lies before it cost him more than it already had. But the record label wouldn’t budge. They’d bought the entire package and feared they’d lose too much money if Adam’s innocuous Texas upbringing was revealed. A booking agent had scored them a world tour and Adam hadn’t wanted to risk losing it.
Adam shook his head. There had been ways out of it. He could have easily let it slip in an interview. A random post on any of his social media accounts would have fed the flames enough to get everyone talking. But he hadn’t. He’d loved the fame. Loved the money. And he had assumed if he waved enough of it at his family, they’d understand. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
He understood why they’d given up on him and why the Katy townsfolk ignored him when he occasionally drifted into town to visit Lizzy. It hadn’t been often. A handful of times in ten years. Adam wasn’t sure how to win their trust again, but he knew he needed to make some major changes and Ramblewood seemed like a great place to start. Maybe now he could focus on his dream of opening the music school he’d been planning for years.
“There you are.” Bridgett leaned over the railing “I should have told you to use the side parking area earlier.”
“No biggie.” The late afternoon sun cast a soft, warm radiant glow upon Bridgett, almost ethereal. He knew he should stay away from her. Wasn’t that what he’d told himself at the restaurant? But he was drawn to her. Hadn’t been able to resist asking her to help him find somewhere to stay. Bridgett intrigued him.
She may be leery of reporters, but she still maintained a cheery attitude toward her customers.
He’d wandered around town for a while waiting for Bridgett’s shift to end. He’d met a few people, visited some of the shops and even caught himself smiling in a storefront window. Ramblewood reminded him of home...his real home. He could envision himself rebuilding his life here. Maybe he still had a chance of moving back to Texas.
Adam made a habit of taking each once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that came his way. Sometimes they panned out, but usually they had gotten him into a hell of a lot of trouble. This—Ramblewood—was different and real. For once, Adam vowed to follow his heart instead of doing whatever his people told him to do.
“I’m sorry, you’ll have to head back to your truck.” Bridgett glanced down at her white Keds and sighed.
Adam’s heart sank. The disappointment was more than he’d anticipated. “I appreciate you trying, though. I’ll check out one of the hotels off the interstate. I do hope to see you again.”
“Oh, you’ll be seeing me.” Bridgett lifted her head and playfully wrinkled her nose as she smiled. “I’ll be the one sitting next to you at dinner tonight. Mazie has an incredible meal planned. One of the perks of staying at the Bed & Biscuit. She serves two meals a day.”
“I don’t understand,” Adam said. Bridgett gracefully glided down the stairs. She was still in her waitress uniform but in his mind, she could have been a model on the runway in Milan. He had been invited to quite a few fashion weeks over the years and none of the women compared to Bridgett. Though she had a natural beauty and aura about her—if you plied her with makeup, hair spray and couture gowns, you’d suffocate her. “I can stay?”
Bridgett nodded. “Grab your luggage, and we’ll check you in.”
Crap. That was something Adam hadn’t thought of. Checking in meant showing ID and he no longer resembled his driver’s license photo. Plus if he was from Katy, Texas, how would he explain the California driver’s license?
After grabbing a small duffel bag from the truck, he met Bridgett inside the inn’s foyer. The white-and-red Victorian wasn’t the type of place he was accustomed to, but it possessed an inviting charm. And although he’d never admit it to his friends in LA, he’d rather lodge in a quaint and cozy B and B than an obnoxiously garish and overpriced hotel.
“Adam, this is Janie Anderson. She handles all guest relations.” Bridgett introduced him to a middle-aged woman coming down a dramatic, richly stained oak staircase ending at a large semi-circle landing that created the room’s focal point. “Janie, I would like to introduce you to Adam—I’m sorry, I don’t know your last name.”
“Steele.” He hoped Bridgett hadn’t noticed the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He turned to Janie, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“She’ll register you while I check on your room. Janie, Adam will be staying in the Balcony Room. I’ll be back down in a minute.”
“Oh, you must be one of Mazie’s cousins.” Janie removed a leather-bound registry from the front desk drawer. From the landing, Bridgett shook her head when Adam almost corrected the woman. Janie ran her fingers across the top edge of the pages until she reached the ribbon marker, opened the book flat and turned it to face him. “If you’ll fill in your name, address and phone number—although with you being a relative I’m sure Mazie has it already—you’ll be good to go.”
No identification, no license plate number, just a person’s word. How ironic that his own family wouldn’t take him at his word, but strangers would. When he finished filling out the registry, Bridgett was ready for him. He followed her to the second floor, enjoying the sight of her bare legs and pert backside while she led him to his room.
“Here you are. Mazie keeps this room for out-of-town family, but she made an exception for you. And before you ask, it’s easier for Janie to think you’re a distant relative than endure her third degree.” Bridgett crossed to an elaborate glass-framed and oak-paneled door. “You have your own private balcony looking onto Ramblewood Park, a fireplace and a private bathroom. Mazie decorated this space with mid-1800s Victorian furnishings. Each room is different, but this is the nicest one. Of course, she designed it with pets in mind so there’s no frilly lace to snag tiny toenails. I don’t think you’ll find it too feminine.”
And
