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A part of me aches to tuck a finger underneath that strap and slowly slide it down her shoulder. But a bigger part of me is terrified of that idea. Not only because I would have no clue what to do next, but because I’m not sure what acting on these newfound desires would mean for me. Or for my career that is already hanging on by a thread woven out of songs about men.

As we’re approaching a bright blue Subaru Crosstrek, she hits the button on her key fob to unlock it. Then she stops beside the passenger door and pulls it open for me. The gesture takes me by surprise enough that I hesitate, a confusing little giggle bubbling up out of me as I stare at her.

I’m immediately mortified, becausewhat the heck was that?

This whole afternoon has felt almost unreal to me. And now she’s standing there holding the car door open for me and looking undeniably hot. It was one thing when she grabbed the door as we walked into the bar, but this gesture makes our afternoon together seem more like a date.

But it wasn’t.

Before I can recover my senses, she lets out a dry laugh. “Yes, I drive a Subaru. I’m a lesbian cliché, okay? Just get in.”

It takes me a second to catch up, and then I want to tell her that I wasn’t laughing about her choice of vehicle. I was only laughing because I’m an awkward, nervous mess when in the presence of a woman I’m attracted to, apparently. But I’m not going to explain that, so I give her what I hope is a friendly smile and get in the car, letting her shut the door after me.

I’m relieved that I can focus my gaze out the window now. It helps me avoid the temptation to keep checking her out.

The drive to the inn is short, so it doesn’t feel weird that we don’t talk during it. My mind becomes preoccupied with all the things that brought me here, and for the first time, I wonder if maybe I was wrong in thinking Mayweather would be a good place to hide. I’m feeling very exposed today.

And I guess it’s hard to hide from myself in the place where I grew up. The place where I was probably my most authentic self before I had the rest of the world’s eyes on me.

That doesn’t mean I was wrong in coming here, though. This is starting to feel like a refresh. Maybe that’s what I really need more than a place to hide.

After pulling up the inn’s long driveway, Addison puts the car in park and twists in her seat to face me. “Are you okay?”

Oh, so I guess she did notice me being quiet.

I haven’t felt truly okay since before all the shit went down with Skyler’s coming out. But looking at the inn—with the white, wraparound porch, the sprawling green lawn and sunflowers lining the pathway, the golden summer sun shining brightly behind the building—things don’t feel as dark as they did the night I got drunk in that bar.

Unclicking my seatbelt, I nod. Then, because this woman has somehow, in such a short time, made me feel like I can trust her, I tell her, “Iwas thinking about why I left Nashville and came here. I thought I was hiding out. But I’m starting to feel like maybe I’m looking for something too.”

“What are you looking for?”

I tug at the hem of my dress. The only thing I should be looking for is how to get my good reputation and my fans back. But it feels like I’m looking for something else.

I’ve been struggling to write new songs, so maybe I’m looking for inspiration. Or I guess I might be looking for myself. Sort of seems like I got lost somewhere along the way in all the fame and PR.

“I’m not entirely sure,” I admit. “Thanks for the ride.”

She nods, and I turn away from her to open my door. I cross in front of the car, heading for the inn’s front steps, but I don’t make it far before I hear her call out, “Hey!”

Turning back around, I see she’s got her window rolled down. And for a second, she just smiles at me. Then she says, “Whatever it is you’re looking for, I hope you find it.”

CHAPTER FIVE

ADDISON

ThedoortoBrenden’soffice is open, so I peek in and find him sitting at his desk. There’s a tall stack of paperwork beside him that’s alarmingly askew, but his eyes are glued to his computer screen.

“Hey,” I say.

He jumps in his seat, knocking into the edge of the desk and sending the top few papers in the stack sliding off and floating to the floor. “Shit!”

“Sorry.” I step inside the office and bend down beside his desk to pick everything up.

“Thanks,” he says, taking the papers I hand him and carelessly tossing them right back on top of the mountain. “Everything good?”

“Yeah, I was just hoping to get Connor Shaw’s number at the farm from you. I already sent in my produce order online, but I want to see if he’d be able to rush deliver me some peaches tomorrow.”

“Ooh, what are you making?” Brenden asks as he pulls out his phone and scrolls through it.