Page 1 of The Lyrics of Love

CHAPTER 1

AUGUST—MAPLE COVE, OREGON

Rylie Robinson headed home, satisfied with her purchases from the estate sale. The mahogany Chippendale chest and the Hepplewhite dining room set had proved expensive, but she had clients in Portland and Seattle who would easily snap up the pieces.

She turned on the radio and began humming along to the tune playing as she turned on the SUV’s air conditioner. Usually, she kept the windows rolled down in the summer but being on the highway, she preferred the AC. Mentally, she ran down her to-do list, feeling she was pretty caught up. Things were on a more even keel now with her cousin Ainsley and Ainsley’s husband. Jackson had returned to the Cove to take over the retiring Clancy Nelson’s law practice. He had been shot by a former client he had defended in L.A. The psychopath had taken Ainsley hostage, and Jackson had killed the kidnapper in self-defense.

It had caused quite a stir in the Cove, which was a small tourist town on the Oregon coast. At least Jackson’s rehab was going well. Rylie had encouraged Ainsley to see a therapist, and her cousin was doing so. Their tight circle of friends had pitched in to help the couple, who now lived in Clancy’s house a few blocks off the town square. Rylie knew if she ever needed help, those same friends would be there for her.

She thought back to last night’s conversation with Ainsley, who had confided she and Jackson were already trying for a baby, despite the fact they were newlyweds. Ainsley had always wanted children and she had married a man who was eager to start a family. Rylie supposed her other close friends, Willow and Tenley, would also do the same soon. Both women had married in the last year, men who were family-oriented and showered their wives with love.

For a moment, tears misted her eyes. Rylie was twenty-nine and not even dating anyone, much less in the position to have a baby. Finding men in the Cove to go out with proved almost impossible. The small town saw most of its younger residents leave to attend college or take jobs in a larger city. Single men were hard to find, other than Gage, a close friend who was like an older brother to her. She tried to shrug off the sudden gloom that had overtaken her. She had lots of friends and owned a business that left her fulfilled.

Maybe she should join a dating site or get on one of those dating apps. After all, Portland was only an hour away. Even if she found someone this way, though, Rylie knew she wouldn’t want to leave the Cove. It was home. She wasn’t a native but had spent every summer in the small town from the time she was four and her mom died. Her dad was on the road a lot, buying antiques for his Portland store, and he’d left Rylie with his brother’s family each summer. The Cove and the nearby Pacific Ocean were in her blood.

With her dad’s death, she had toyed with the idea of closing their Portland shop and moving to Maple Cove. Ainsley, who was studying at a famed pastry school in Paris, had graduated and decided to open a bakery in her hometown. That had helped Rylie make up her mind to relocate and settle in the Cove. It had been the best decision she had ever made, besides dumping her cheating boyfriend in her senior year of college. She loved what she did and her circle of friends.

Yet she found herself yearning for more.

Her vehicle lurched slightly. Quickly, she turned off the radio, only to hear a clicking sound as the car seemed to go dead. She steered to the right, coasting, and pulled off the two-lane highway, her eyes falling to the gas gauge.

“Oh, no!” she cried.

She had run out of gas.

Rylie wasn’t a careless person. In fact, she was quite proud of how meticulous and detail-oriented she was. Usually, she would check her gas gauge when starting out on any trip, but the twins had made two deliveries for her on Saturday. She had reminded them to fill up before they returned. Obviously, they hadn’t. Trusting two seventeen-year-olds had been her downfall. And of all things, she had left her phone on its charger when she left earlier. Calling one of her friends to help bail her out would not be an option.

At least she was only about five miles from the Cove. The only gas station was on this side of town. She could begin walking there and most likely, someone she knew would pass and give her a lift into town. Still, humiliation filled her. And the fact she wore three-inch heels with her sundress probably meant blisters if she had to walk for a while. Maybe she should take off her heels. Deciding that was a good idea, she slipped out of them.

Turning on her hazard lights, she exited the vehicle, checking to make sure the trailer she pulled was also completely off the road. Rylie had spent too much on the furniture inside it and didn’t want someone hitting it. Satisfied that she was as far off the highway as she could manage, she glanced over her shoulder before she began walking. A black truck was slowing. Maybe she wouldn’t have to walk, after all.

The truck pulled in behind her and a guy got out—almost six feet, with a lean, wiry build, shoulder-length, light-brown hair, and a beard. As he approached, she saw he had amazing hazel eyes. Though he didn’t live in the Cove, he seemed somehow familiar to her.

“You look like you need some help,” he said, his voice low, a bit of a twang in it. Maybe Texas?

Rylie could feel her cheeks heat as she said, “I’m embarrassed to say that I’ve run out of gas. I’ll act like a typical teenager and blame my teenagers for it.”

Shock filled the guy’s face. “You’ve got teenagers?”

She laughed, realizing he thought she meant her own children. “Only the ones who work for me. I have two high school boys who move furniture for me. I own an antiques store in the next town coming up. Maple Cove. My store is on the square. The twin’s granddad is my clerk.” She sighed. “I’ve always told them if the tank falls to a quarter, they should fill up. I even reminded them of that yesterday when they left to deliver furniture, thinking they were actually listening to me.”

“Teenage boys know everything,” the stranger said easily, giving her a slow smile. “I know. I was one. It took a good ten years to figure out I didn’t know much of anything.”

His dazzling smile made her grow warm, and Rylie felt her blush spreading. Quickly, she said, “I was careless and didn’t check the gauge before I left on a buying trip today. I’ll own it.” She grinned. “Unlike most teenage boys.”

“What did you buy?” he asked.

“Some really great pieces,” she said, her enthusiasm showing. “One is a Chippendale chest in mahogany. The lines are beautiful. The other is an eight-piece Hepplewhite dining set in cherry. It has the table, with six chairs and a sideboard.”

“What’s the wood? I carve a little.”

“Cherry.”

The man nodded. “Sounds pretty. You said Chippendale for the chest. What’s the dining furniture again?”

“Hepplewhite. That’s late eighteenth to early nineteenth century.”

“Heard of it. Didn’t know when it was made. So, you buy and sell antiques.”

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