Page 97 of Sing You Home (Nashville Star 1)

“I’m not in the mood, Seth,” she fires back.

“Sal looks fine,” Luke says, coming around the corner, chairs stacked under his arms. He smiles at Sal and she perks up, instantly looking a thousand times lighter. “No fightin’. In fact, the only person allowed to start fights today is Sal.”

Sal props her hands on her hips, a smile playing on her lips. “Fisticuffs or sucker punches?”

“I’ll let you decide, darlin’.”

Sal laughs. “Special treatment.”

Luke gives her a warm look. “Damn right.”

Seth groans. His brother and Sal are even crazier about each other than when they first met. It’s exhausting is what it is.

“Outside,” Lacey commands, switching into party planner mode. She marches Luke down the porch steps, where they start setting up chairs in the field beside the house.

Sal goes to the window. Her hands flutter to her stomach. “I’m nervous,” she says, and Seth knows she’s not talking about meeting people at the party.

Seth’s heart gives a tug. Her expression—forlorn and lost. He feels for her.

Seth moves to stand beside her, looping an arm around her shoulder. “It’ll be fine.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Whiskey and champagne. Sweet tea and ice-cold beer. Lawn chairs and lanterns. The house is decked out beyond belief thanks to Lacey and Luke. Music blasts from the stereo system installed around the house. The late afternoon is warm, the hot sun blazing like a fever. Seth tumbles beer into a Yeti cooler; Lacey follows the caterer around, barking orders and swatting at mosquitoes.

Sal, standing at the front of the house, smiles at the lovely mess of it all. It’s like a bona fide country hoedown right before her eyes. According to Seth, every year her birthday celebration is held at the house. She missed it once; she wasn’t going to miss it again.

Her gaze drifts to the horizon. Sal wonders where the policemen have staked out. She knows it’s crazy to have a party with all this madness, but normality is the only thing keeping her sane.

Though the police are still looking for Roy, Sal can’t help but hope. Maybe he gave up. Maybe he got hit by a bus.

The first people have arrived. A cherry-red pickup eases its way down the drive. At the wheel, an older gentleman. Beside him, a woman with long silver hair. Sal hears the thump of Luke’s boots as he starts down the steps. He stands tall beside her, lacing his fingers with hers. “My parents.” He points at the truck with his beer.

She looks up at him. Turns her voice teasing. “The dreaded in-laws.”

He laughs before his expression turns serious. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Great,” she says, with more bravado than she feels. She can’t hide out here forever. Although it’d be tempting to. Take her hot-as-hell husband upstairs to bed and do very sweaty and inappropriate things with him.

Shaking off the image, Sal squeezes his hand. “Let’s do it.”

Luke’s eyes flash with pride. Turning his body toward her, he pulls Sal tightly into his arms, molding her to him. “You amaze me, Sal,” he says fiercely. “And I promise it’s all gonna be alright.”

His words have Sal going molten. “I know it will.”

She stands on tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. Luke slips an arm around her waist, his other hand cups her cheek to tangle in her hair.

The slam of car doors, the crunch of sand and grit, pull her and Luke apart. Standing in front of Sal are two teary-eyed parents.

Luke’s father, Vaughn, red-faced and barrel-chested, crosses his arms to stare at Sal with a watery smile. “Now ain’t this a sight for sore eyes.”

“Pop,” Luke says with a nod to his father. Then, “Hey, Ma.”

“Hush now.” Diane Kincaid waves him off, her eyes on Sal. “I’m here to see this sweet thing.”

Nerves eat at her, and Sal smooths the front of her shirt. “Hi, Mrs. Kincaid. I—”

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