Pieces of a Broken Heart: Whiskey Bend Series Book One Read online

  “I can’t believe those old farts allowed someone to make any changes to the town. I mean how many other companies have come in and they wouldn’t offer them any incentives to open here.”

  “That is true, but times have changed. A lot of the council members now are younger than me. And they see the benefit of bringing in new business.”

  “I can tell. Main Street was booming when I came through.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful,” she gushes.

  “I was just surprised that’s all. Last time I was in town, it was becoming a ghost town.”

  “Nathan offered people start-up loans to help get the town back on its feet. He also got two manufacturing plants to bring their business here. They employ almost everyone in the town there.”

  “That’s good news,” I mumble as she places the piece of pie in front of me along with a tall glass of milk.

  “Well, it’s good news. Now all the kids aren’t moving off as soon as they graduate high school. There’s opportunity for them here now.”

  “People actually want to stay here?” I ask, disbelief dripping from my words.

  “Not everyone wants to run off the second they can, Zach,” she replies, her voice ripe with disapproval. “Some people want to remain close to their families.”

  “Mo…” I try to explain before she cuts me off.

  “Zach, I always knew that you’d leave before the ink was dry on your diploma. I never expected that you wouldn’t come back.” Her shoulders droop with censure. Guilt eats at me.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Too damn busy to even visit your parents? Come home for Christmas? Is that too damn much to ask?” Her voice becomes watery and I can’t stand the thought of making her cry.

  “Momma, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she snaps before she realizes, then takes a breath. More calmly she asks, “Are you planning on staying here during your vacation or in town?”

  “Here if it isn’t too much of an inconvenience,” I remark standing up from the stool making it squeak across the floor as I walk toward the door.

  “Your room is now a guest room,” she calls to my back. “You’re more than welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

  My brown boots stomp down the stairs and across the yard to my truck. “Didn’t come here for a fucking guilt trip,” I mutter under my breath.

  “What did you come here for then, Son?” comes the booming voice from behind me.

  “Hey, Dad,” I say turning around to see an older version of myself standing a few feet away.

  “Good to see you, Zach. What brings you home? With no word, I might add. I know I taught you better manners than that,” my dad, Griffin, huffs out, his steely gray eyes staring me down, making me feel like a little kid again. It takes all my willpower not to kick the rocks in the drive.

  “Just need some R&R,” I shrug.

  “Likely story. I’m sure your momma bought that bullshit, but you’ll have to sell that story to someone else. I ain’t buying it. You in some kind of trouble?” he asks, face drawn into a frown.

  “No, sir. Not trouble. Just need to lie low for a little while.”

  “Does this have anything to do with all the gossip about you and the married woman?” My gaze darts to his. Disappointment shines in his eyes, lips pressed together in a hard line.

  Of course, they know about it here in BFE. “My label doesn’t think all publicity is good publicity. They suggested I take a break and since Wesley is getting married, I thought I’d make a trip home to figure things out.”

  “Uh huh,” he replies.

  “And I didn’t know she was married,” I say defensively.

  “Well, whatever brought you home, I’m glad to see you, Son. It’s been too damn long. Let’s get your bags in the house. If I know your momma, she is working on supper right about now.”

  “Lord, she just fed me pie.”

  “That doesn’t matter. She’s going to be fixing your favorite meal tonight.”

  Even though I finished the pie and milk, my stomach grumbles and my mouth waters at the thought of Mom’s chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes.

  Chapter Three

  Danielle

  “Lila Grace, you get you little rear end back in here!” I yell as my three-year-old daughter streaks out of the bathroom, naked after her bath, her infectious giggle trailing behind her causing a grin to cross my face despite her disobedience.

  “But those are the wrong jammies, Momma. I wanted the purple ones,” her little voice trills down the hallway.

  “God forbid, she doesn’t get the purple ones,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Got ‘em, Momma!” Lila yells from the bedroom before the tread of footsteps running down the hall reaches my ears.

  Seconds later Lila’s smiling face appears in the doorway.

  “Now can you please get dressed?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lila nods as she grabs her underwear off the counter and places her legs in the holes. After a few minutes and a few tangled limbs later, I kiss my sleepy daughter goodnight before heading to the kitchen for a glass of wine.

  “Damn so much to get done,” I mutter before eyeing the laundry basket full of clothes sitting on the floor in front of the couch. I turn on the local country radio before sitting on the floor to sort through the colorful clothing.

  Halfway through the basket, there’s a light knock at the door. It’s eight o’clock at night but with my bakery hours, everyone knows that we go to bed early around here. The knock sounds again, a little louder this time as I unfold my legs out from under me and rise from the floor. A glance through my peephole, reveals a devastatingly handsome man leaning against the porch railing.

  “Nathan, what are you doing here?” I ask opening the door.

  “I missed you and Lila. Thought I’d drop by,” my brother-in-law states as he brushes his tall, muscular frame by me to enter the living room.

  “I didn’t realize you were back in town,” I remark, shutting the door behind me.

  “Just for a couple of days. Where’s Lila?” he asks turning toward me, his brown eyes glinting in the light.

  “She’s asl…” The words don’t even cross my lips before his mouth is on mine; hot, hungry, and demanding. His hand twines in my hair pulling me closer. My arms slide around his neck as he stoops down, his arm shelving my ass before I wrap my legs around his hips.

  There are no pretty words spoken as he tosses me onto the end bed, ripping off my black tank top. My nipples harden in the cool air. He whips off his t-shirt and throws it across the room before he leans down sucking my nipple into the hot cavern of his mouth. His tongue runs softly over it before he bites down as I hiss at the slight hint of pain. He pinches my other nub between his finger before giving it a slight twist.

  “Fuck,” I breathe out. He leans back, eyes on fire, mouth drawn into a hard line as he pulls off the pink shorts I’m wearing. When the air hits my pussy, I know that my panties are gone too. His gaze trails down my body, pausing when he reaches the tattoo on my hip. His hand softly skims the colorful ink before he grips and turns me over onto my stomach. My toes barely reach the floor in this position which is fine with him. One calloused hand caresses my lower back as I hear the clanking of the melt of his belt buckle, the soft pop of a button and the hiss of the zipper. My legs tremble as I risk a look over my shoulder. His eyes are focused between my legs. He pulls the condom out of his pocket before he lets the denim slide down his toned legs. The wrapper tearing sounds loud in the room. One large finger breaches my entrance, the intrusion making me gasp. He withdraws only to thrust in two. My juices leak down my thighs as he makes short jabs before scissoring his fingers. His slow withdrawal makes me whimper with the loss. The broad head of his sheathed cock butts against my hole before he plunges in to the hilt. I bite the quilt to keep from screaming out. His hands grip my hips as he slowly pulls out to thrust in again pinning me between the mattress and his hard body. His hips piston a
s he powers into me driving me higher and higher with each stroke. Little noises escape my mouth before I bury my face in the bedding. My hands clench as the orgasm draws closer. His hand slides between my stomach and the bedding before cupping my mound. Two fingers pinch my clit sending me flying. I bite the quilt to keep from calling out my husband’s name. With a grunt, Nathan freezes, his dick jerking inside me. The only sounds in the room are our harsh breathing as he pulls out before walking into my bathroom. I stand on shaky legs before walking to the dresser and pulling my husband’s shirt out of the drawer. Sliding it over my head, my eyes tear up when I don’t smell his cologne. The picture on the dresser from four years ago, shows us smiling in Hawaii with a waterfall in the background as he holds me in his arms. My finger traces his face through the glass.

  “He loved you more than anything, you know,” Nathan’s deep baritone sounds from the doorway. “You and Lila were his entire world.”

  “I know,” my voice shakes. “He was mine. I just wish…” I blink rapidly to keep back the tears. “I wish he could have seen Lila grow up.”

  “He would’ve been the best dad.” As soon as he utters the words, I break, my body wracked by sobs as I sink to the floor. Warm, strong arms draw me to his chest. The dark hair scratchy under my cheek.

  “Let it out, Danielle. You’re always so strong, holding it all in. It’s time for you to lean on someone else,” he murmurs against the top of my head. All the anger, despair and hurt pour out of me.

  “Why? Why did he have to die? Why did it have to be him?” I wail beating my hand against his chest. “He promised me forever. He lied. He left me all alone.”

  “God, baby, you know he never lied to you. He was doing his job. What he was born to do, protecting our country.”

  “But now he’ll never see her grow up or threaten any of her boyfriends. Walk her down the aisle. That is what he’s supposed to do. Not die halfway around the world with strangers!”

  “It’s not fair. To you or to Lila or to the rest of us. We all lost him, but we still have each other.” He hugs me tighter. Minutes, hours pass as I pour my heart out. My breath hitches as I try to calm down, drained from my tirade, limply I lie against him.

  “Let’s get you to bed.” He stands up with me in his arms, reminding me so much of his brother. Even though Nathan is four years older than James, they could have passed for twins. He pulls back the covers laying me down on the soft sheets. “Your alarm set?” he asks gently. I nod, my eyes already drifting closed. “Sweet dreams, Dani,” are the last words I hear as darkness claims me.

  The screech of the alarm startles me awake as I reach over and smack the button. Damn, four am comes too early. My head throbs from my crying jag last night, my throat scratchy and my eyes feel like I rubbed them with sandpaper. I take a quick shower before throwing on my jeans and black Sweet Spot bakery t-shirt. Plaiting my long curly blonde hair, I tiptoe past a snoring Nathan passed out on my couch, my red and black throw pulled up to his lean hips. The scent of coffee drifts from the kitchen, the aroma beckoning me closer. My travel mug full, I head downstairs to the bakery. When I bought the building, I had the second story converted into a two-room apartment for me and Lila. I flip the switches and the fluorescent lights flicker on in the kitchen, their hum filling the space. I snag the black apron that hangs from the hook and tie it around my waist. For the next two hours, I combine ingredients for the muffins and loaves of bread by rote. I will deliver some muffins next door to my best friend Jessa’s coffee shop, The Grind House, and the bread to the sandwich shop on the other side of the street and the grocery store around the corner. The back-door bell jingles in the hallway separating me from The Grind House before my door opens. Jessa walks in with a yawn stretching her mouth wide.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” I quip as she scowls, her forest green eyes narrowing.

  “No one should be this damn chipper in the morning,” she grumbles.

  “Well, you better hurry up and get the coffee going before your morning regulars start a riot.” She flips me off before heading over to her shop. She knows as well as I as soon as the doors unlock, the silver squad will be in for their usual black coffees. I load up my trays of blueberry, apple cinnamon, and other assorted muffins and wheel the cart next door. The glass display case gleams in the overhead lighting as I place the warm muffins inside. A light tap on the door reveals Fred, Jasper, Tom and Hank waiting impatiently for it to be unlocked, even if it is five minutes before time to open.

  “Go ahead and open the door for the old coots,” Jessa sighs as she finishes adding the coffee grounds to the basket. “They’ll just give us the puppy dog eyes until you do.” Even through her agitation, the smile in her voice shines through.

  “Good morning, gentleman,” I smile at the men as they shuffle through the door.

  “What’s good about it?” Jasper grumbles before he plunks down on the wooden chair.

  “Jessa, someone’s just as grumpy as you without their morning coffee,” I tease as the other gentlemen hoot. “I made something this morning I want you to try, Jasper.” Placing the warm muffin stuffed with pineapple, banana, and walnuts with a cream cheese center on the plate in front of him. “I based it off your wife’s recipe for Hummingbird cake. Tell me what you think.” I give his shoulder a squeeze before I turn back toward the counter. Jasper lost his wife, Ruby, six months ago to cancer after a hard fought battle. As I round the granite countertop, I notice that Jasper is staring the muffin making no move to touch the confection. His weathered hands grip the edge of the table.

  “Coffee is ready, boys. Give me a sec and I’ll get it out there,” Jessa calls out as she fills the dark green ceramic mugs full of the rich black coffee. Everyone else who comes in for coffee will get Styrofoam cups, but she treats her “old coots” like they’re family.

  “Jessa will take care of y’all. I need to get my bread delivered.” I pat Jasper on the shoulder before turning to leave.

  Walking back across the hall, I load up the freshly baked bread and some pastries and put them in the back of my delivery van. I head upstairs to wake up Lila as she usually goes with me before coming back to get ready for our day. The aroma of coffee assaults my senses as I open the door.

  “Good morning,” the gruff voice comes from the direction of the kitchen. Nathan walks out in nothing but his jeans. My vision changes to my husband walking out with his much shorter hair and the tattoo on his chest. Just for a moment, I believe that he’s still with me.

  “Morning, Nathan. Hope you slept okay. That couch wasn’t made for a tall person.”

  “That’s no joke. I’ll stay here with Lila if you want to make your rounds around town,” he states before taking a sip of coffee. His eyes drift closed as he savors the bitter taste.

  “You don’t mind?” I ask, biting my lip.

  “Hell no, I don’t. I haven’t seen the munchkin in a month.”

  “Okay, there’s cereal in the cabinet when she gets up.”

  “Don’t worry, D. I got it handled.” He chuckles making a shooing motion with his hands.

  “I’ll be back in twenty minutes, half an hour tops.”

  “Danielle, go,” he orders, then softens it with a smile in my direction. “I can take care of Lila,” he assures me.

  “I’m going. I’m going.” I laugh softly walking backward toward the door. “Call if you need anything.”

  “Will do.”

  My black converse tread lightly on the metal staircase toward my dark blue delivery van, the pink design of Sweet Spot surrounding a cupcake prominently displayed on the side. Opening the door, the aroma of freshly baked bread fills my nose making my mouth water.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Taggert,” a too cheery voice calls from across the lot. Callie, the girl who is working full time for the summer since school is out, comes bouncing towards me, her brown ponytail swinging from shoulder to shoulder.

  “Morning, Callie. You’re here early,” I note looking at the watch on my wr
ist.

  “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well come on over. I know we had a lot to get done today.” Her smile is infectious, and I can’t help the grin that crosses my lips despite my serious lack of adequate caffeine intake. I should have refilled my cup when I was upstairs.

  “Do you want to come with me to deliver or start on the vanilla cake for today?”

  She scuffs her toe on the pavement while looking at the ground. “I’ll go with you if that’s okay?” she mumbles then looks up at me hopefully, her honey-colored eyes bright.

  “It’s fine. Load up.” I climb in and insert the key. The engine rumbles to life. As soon as her seat belt clicks, I put the van in gear and ease out of the lot. First stop, Dan’s Grocery Mart. Just as I pull to a stop in front of the delivery door, Dan Jenkins marches out, his white shirt straining across his rotund stomach. Following in his wake is his eighteen-year-old grandson, Brent, wearing a Dan’s Grocery Mart t-shirt and shorts looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. I’m sure being up before seven in the morning is not how I’d want to spend my summer vacation either.

  “Good morning, Mr. Jenkins,” I call through the open window as I put the van in park.

  “Morning, Danielle. That bread sure smells good.” I hold in my laughter at his exaggerated inhale. “Looks like you have a new partner this morning,” he states spying Callie in the seat beside me. “Where’s the blonde dynamo?”

  “Nathan came by to spend time with her.”

  “Oh, that’s good. Mornin’, Callie.”

  “Hi, Mr. Jenkins,” Callie says shyly as she steps out of the van, shooting a covert glance at the lanky young man off to the side as her cheeks turn bright red. Now I see why she wanted to come with me. The joy of a high school crush.

  “Callie, why don’t you go ahead and open the back doors so we can unload?” The words come out muffled as I contain my laughter.

  Her eyes ping pong between me and Brent, Mr. Jenkins’ grandson. “Okkayy,” she stutters out. She walks toward the back of the van, shyly looking over her shoulder until she clips the side, her hand reaching up to cup the injured arm as she beats feet around the corner. I barely hold in my laughter as I follow her to save her from having to face her crush. Her face is buried in her hands as she leans against the doors. I school my features before facing her not wanting her embarrassment to become worse.