Page 1 of Beneath the Stars (Sugarlake 1)

Prologue

It’s when I’m walking to the back office that I feel it. The shift in the air. It’s subtle—a ghost of a chill that flickers down my spine. What the heck? I brush it off, straightening my shoulders and walking through the open door.

I don’t see him at first, but when I do—that chill drops like an iceberg, free-falling through my body and freezing me in place.

This isn’t happening.

This cannot be happening.

“Alina! I was starting to wonder if you would even show up,” my boss, Regina, says as she smiles thinly. She’s annoyed, and rightly so. I should respond, but I don’t. I’m not sure I physically can since my heart has stalled in my chest.

Chase Adams.

I’d love him if I didn’t hate him so much.

There’s a pencil behind his ear, a blueprint rolled up in his hand, and another laid out on the desk. But he isn’t looking at that. He’s locked on me, mouth partially open, hand frozen halfway through his silky, dark hair.

He swallows, and my traitorous eyes track the way his throat bobs. “Goldi.”

The nickname travels across the room and pierces me in the chest, snapping me out of my shock. “Don’t call me that.”

He sucks in a breath, but clamps his mouth shut and nods.

“You two know each other?” Regina points between the two of us.

Chase starts to answer. “Yeah, actually we used—”

“Our folks are neighbors,” I interrupt. “We grew up together, but no. I never really knew him.”

I stand stoic, my gaze never straying from Regina. But I can feel him. My body hums, reminding me of the first time I saw him at eleven years old, and just like then, I have to clench my fists to keep from reaching out.

1

Alina

Eleven Years Old

I love dancing. Always have and always will. Been in classes for every type of dancing under the sun since I was four years old. Daddy tells me I’ll dance my way into the worst kind of trouble, but I think that’s a load of bull. Why would I want to get in trouble? I’m eleven now, way too big to be sitting in a time-out chair. It’s just that dancing is one of the only times I really feel free. My older brother Eli will tell you I’ve got two left feet, but don’t believe him. He just gets annoyed Mama tells him to let me pick the music when she sends us outside to play.

I pick a freshly burned CD out of my case and pop it in. When Gretchen Wilson’s “Red Neck Woman” blares out of the speakers, I smile big and tap my foot.

“Ugh, seriously?” my brother huffs. “Lee, could you pick worse songs to listen to? You know I can’t stand country.”

I turn quickly, whipping my long honey-blonde hair around, tangling it behind me. Eli’s shooting hoops in the driveway. I stick my tongue out at him and turn toward the house. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s all I’ve ever known as home. A three-bed, two-bath, one-story right smack in the middle of Sugarlake, Tennessee with blue shutters and the prettiest tulips you’ll ever see. I love picking them when they bloom in the spring, but Mama gets mad when I do because tulips are “a labor of love,” so instead I just come out front and stare at them every chance I get.

Eli dribbles the basketball and groans, bringing my attention back to him. “Seriously, you always get to pick the music and it fuckin’ sucks, Lee. Put on some OutKast or somethin’. I can’t practice my free throws to this shit.”

I roll my eyes at his potty mouth. He thinks he’s so big and bad because he’s fourteen now, and he loves to curse every chance he gets.

“Don’t let Mama hear you talk like that or she’ll wash your mouth out with soap again.” I stick my finger in my mouth, makin

g a loud gagging noise. I’ve never had soap in my mouth, but watching Eli go through it is enough to make me never want to speak a bad word in my life.

He stops dribbling and runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head. “You’re such a goody-two-shoes. Why don’t you leave me alone? Go on and introduce yourself to the new neighbors or somethin’. I saw a girl runnin’ around their front yard, and I bet you’d get along great. She looks almost as annoyin’ as you.” He smirks, pointing down the street.

I put my hands on my hips. The house is three doors down. There’s a big moving truck in the driveway and lots of men in dark blue uniforms unloading furniture and boxes. I strain my eyes trying to find the girl, and finally, see her in the front yard. She’s smaller than me and hula hooping away without a care in the world, her dark brown hair swishing behind her in a high ponytail. She looks friendly enough, and since my best friend Becca is out of town for the summer at church camp, I really have nothing better to do than make a new friend.

---