For Always and Ever

By Verity Norton

For Always and Ever: Book #13 in the McCullough Romance Series.

When Rain MacKenzie crashes a McCullough family wedding in order to meet Mairi McCullough, the singer whom he has hired as his opening act, sparks fly. The good kind. The kind that convince Mairi's family that if they go near the two singers when they're standing side by side, they might suffer an electrical shock.

Their attraction is instantaneous. But once they're honest with each other, they discover that it started several years before. For Mairi, seven years ago when she was a teenager and sneaked out and went to San Francisco to see one of Rain's early concerts when his career as a rock singer was just taking off. For Rain, five years ago when he wandered into a café in that same city and heard a beautiful young singer caressing the words to a folk song with her angelic voice. But believing that she was jailbait, he left without meeting her.

Haunted by the memory and never being able to get that voice or face out of his mind, Rain doesn't stop searching for her. Years later, after he finds her again, he asks her to be his opening act. However, while the rock star admires and appreciates her authenticity and her passion for folk and big band era music, his label, agent, and publicist do not. Rain refuses to give up on making it work. He finally faces the truth--someone has to compromise and very possibly change. The question is, will he encourage Mairi to become someone she isn't? Or will he give up something, possibly his image and fame, in order to be with the woman he loves?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Felicity Nisbet
• Release date: Nov 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463523414

Verity Norton

Verity Norton is a native Californian, but when she moved to an island in the Pacific Northwest she fell in love with rainy days and the island lifestyle of reading and writing by candlelight and depending on a woodstove during power outages. She also writes children’s books, young adult, contemporary fiction, and mysteries under the name Felicity Nisbet. [e-mail]

Book preview

FOR ALWAYS AND EVER

Book #13 in the McCullough Romance Series

By Verity Norton

© 2018 by Felicity Nisbet

Cover by Mary Sue Roberts

Published 2018 by Felicity Nisbet

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews. This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

THE MCCULLOUGHS

Grandparents: Evan and Eleanor McCullough

Their Children:

Patrick

Nan

Nigel

Emily

The McCullough Families and Cousins:

Nan McCullough Jameson, married to Grant Jameson

Their Children:

Alex McCullough Jameson, married to Cassie Callahan

Anne McCullough Jameson, married to Christopher Newell

Allie McCullough Jameson, married to Gabe Barrett

Aidan McCullough Jameson, married to Jamie Miller

Nigel McCullough, married to Ivy McCullough

Their Children:

Sean McCullough, married to Sophie Weldon

Skye McCullough, married to Nick Callen

Sloan McCullough

Patrick McCullough, married to Lana McCullough

Their Children:

Matt McCullough, married to Arielle Bradford

Megan McCullough, married to Trent Montgomery

Morgan McCullough, engaged to Emma Hartley

Mairi McCullough

Emily McCullough Burnett, married to Palmer Burnett

Their Children:

Kelly McCullough Burnett, married to Ryan Salvatore

Kieran McCullough Burnett, married to Brynn Sullivan

Kayleigh McCullough Burnett, married to Jack Tucker

CHAPTER 1

The woman could sing. It hadn’t been his imagination. Or an embellished memory. The music might be a different style, and she might be all grown up now, but he’d recognize that voice anywhere. And those eyes. Maybe because he had been visualizing them for the past five years.

She really did have the voice of an angel. As the song shifted from Isn’t It Romantic? to We’re Having a Heat Wave, he rethought that assessment. She had the voice of a vamp. Maybe both. At the same time. Whatever it was, she was incredible. And beautiful. . . . And different.

She hardly wore any makeup. And her dark hair wasn’t done up all fancy or wild and edgy. It was long and natural, flowing over her shoulders. All he could think of was running his fingers through the thick, soft strands. At least when he wasn’t thinking of pressing his mouth against hers. But it wasn’t her mouth or her hair that had him totally captivated. Or even her voice. It was those ocean blue eyes that sparkled with every note that flowed from her. She was alive, vibrant, loving her music, loving her life.

Something he had forgotten how to do.

He knew one thing for sure. Now that he’d found her again, he was not about to let her go. He had to have her. Now. He pulled his phone from his pocket and called his manager.

I just found our opening act.

* * *

Are you serious? Mairi McCullough said into her phone. This isn’t a joke?

Lana McCullough watched as her daughter sank onto the couch behind her, obviously reacting to some big news. Judging from the smile on Mairi’s face, the big news was good news. Lana turned and looked at her husband Patrick who was eavesdropping on the telephone conversation as deliberately as she was. She glanced around the room and realized that they weren’t the only ones. Everyone else was listening, including her son Matt and his wife Arielle, and her daughter Megan and her husband Trent, and her son Morgan and his fiancé Emma who also happened to be Mairi’s best friend. The only one who was not paying attention to her youngest offspring’s phone conversation was Brianna, Matt and Arielle’s three-year-old.

Well? Are you going to share the obviously big news? Matt asked as soon as the phone conversation had ended.

Mairi’s nod was in slow motion as she started to set her cell phone down in the bowl of guacamole. Arielle caught her hand and stopped her just before the phone hit the creamy green glop.

Honey? Lana asked. Are you all right?

Another nod left them doubtful. Her family members glanced around the room at one another, all of them maintaining similar expressions—bewilderment and curiosity.

Morgan confronted his little sister and said, Come on, sis, what’s going on? Obviously something big.

Huh? She looked up at her brother who had the same dark brown hair and blue eyes that she and all her siblings--as well as her McCullough cousins--shared. What did you say? Mairi asked.

He asked you what’s going on, their father said. You look as if you’ve been hit by a two by four. No reason not to stick to contractor analogies, considering that he and Matt were contractors.

Did somebody hit Aunt Maiwe? Brianna asked.

No, no one hit her, Patrick quickly said.

That was just your grandpa being funny, Lana explained.

But she looks like maybe somebody did hit her, the three-year-old said.

That’s just because she’s in a state of shock, Matt told his daughter.

Brianna frowned as she walked over to her aunt and studied her for a minute before turning back to the others and asking, Did she stick her finger in there? She pointed at an outlet. Like you tell me not to do?

No, she didn’t do that, Arielle said. She’s just had some big news is all.

Oh. Either the little girl had accepted her mother’s explanation, or she had tired of the subject and decided to move on to something more interesting such as one of the family dogs who happened to resemble a truffula tree.

Who was that on the phone? Lana asked her daughter.

The phone? Mairi murmured.

Arielle held up the cell that she had just rescued. In a room filled with dark-haired McCulloughs, Arielle stood out with her curly blond hair. You were just talking to someone on the phone, this phone, Arielle said.

Oh, right. Yes! It was— Her eyes glazed over once again.

Emma stood up and crossed the room to wedge herself between Mairi and Arielle on the couch. She eased her arm across her best friend’s shoulder and said softly. Someone just called you and gave you some really big news. Right?

Un huh.

Who was it?

A man.

Okay, a man. Does he have a name?

Steve, I think.

We’re making progress. Does he have a last name?

I don’t remember.

Was he calling because he wanted to ask you out on a date? Emma doubted that was the reason for the call, but she figured she should move slowly, building up to what she did suspect was the reason.

Date? Mairi frowned. No.

Do you know him? Have you met him?

No.

But he called you.

Yes.

Does it have to do with your singing?

Mairi sucked in her breath and released it slowly. When she looked up, she realized that everyone in the room was staring at her. Why were they staring at her? Why are you all looking at me like that? What’s wrong? What’s happened?

Emma wrapped her arm more tightly around her friend. That’s what we’re trying to figure out. You got a phone call and kind of went into a state of shock.

I did?

I think maybe I need to take a look at you, Megan said, handing her little sister a glass of water.

A look at me?

Megan reached for her wrist and started to take her pulse.

I don’t need a doctor! Mairi protested, yanking her hand away from her doctor sister’s grip. I’m just shocked! And very confused. Why her? Why did they want her?

Trent chuckled and grabbed his wife around the waist and pulled her backwards until she was sitting on his lap. She doesn’t need a doctor, honey. She just needs a minute to absorb whatever news she just got.

Yeah, while the rest of us are suffering here, Morgan said. What happened, Mair? Who is this Steve and what did he want?

She once again glanced around the room, seeing the concerned faces that were staring at her. He’s a music manager.

And he wants you to--? Emma left the sentence for her friend to fill in the blanks.

He--he wants me to be the opening act for some benefit concerts.

When? Emma asked, hoping it wouldn’t be before her wedding. No, it couldn’t be. That was just over a week away.

Soon, Mairi said. She glanced at her friend, and suddenly felt the need to calm her concerns. But don’t worry, I won’t leave until after the wedding. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Even if they wanted her sooner.

Isn’t that awfully short notice? Lana asked.

I guess. She was just as confused as the rest of them. But—but the lead singer of the opening act they’d hired was injured . . . not seriously, but he won’t be singing for a while. So—

So, they want you to open for them. Cool, sis, Matt said.

That is exciting, Megan said. So, who’s the headliner?

It must be a really big headliner, Emma said.

It is!

That’s great news! Matt--the oldest of the siblings as well as the McCullough cousins--agreed.

Is it? his therapist wife, Arielle, asked more cautiously. Is this a good thing?

Mairi looked past Emma to where Arielle was sitting. Yes. I think so. Terrifying. But good.

Why terrifying? Emma asked.

Because—because this is really big. Through the roof big! I mean, I’m used to singing in front of audiences and touring and stuff, but I’ve never done anything like this. Nor had she ever expected to.

Like what? Matt asked, scooping up Brianna before she could put anymore hair clips in Truffula’s tail.

Like this. Like— Mairi puffed up her cheeks, blew out her breath, and made a huge gesture with her arms.

Before this turns into twenty questions, Lana said, Why don’t you tell us who you’re going to be opening for, assuming you accept the job.

Is it someone we’ve heard of? Morgan asked.

Mairi looked at her brother. Yeah, it’s someone you’ve heard of. But for the life of her, she couldn’t get his name out.

All of us? Patrick asked, doubtful that that was the case. While his parents had taught his children to appreciate their beloved big band era music, his offspring did enjoy music he himself wasn’t so fond of. He wasn’t completely uneducated to the current trends and musicians, but he wasn’t convinced he would know who his youngest daughter would be opening for. He only hoped it wasn’t one of those rock musicians who was into carousing and drinking and drugs. More than ever he was grateful that Mairi’s backup musicians looked out for her, much the way he trusted her big brothers to do. Still— He wasn’t completely naïve about the music scene.

Tell us, dear, Lana urged.

Mairi inhaled in slow motion. We were just offered the chance to open for—to open for— She shook her head in disbelief.

For--? Emma encouraged.

For-- Mairi looked her best friend in the eyes. So gorgeous.

A gorgeous singer, hmmm? Who would that be?

One of your favorites. Not so much his music, but the man. Why couldn’t she just say his name?

A hint here, please?

Your teenage crush—besides my brother. Plays soccer? Total hunk. Gorgeous eyes--arctic blue. San Francisco--seven years ago? Seven years ago when they were teenagers and had sneaked out and hitched a ride up to San Francisco to hear his concert. When he was just starting out. When he was on the edge of fame. But she still couldn’t say the name that had lived in the forefront of her mind for all these years.

Emma practically bounced off the couch. This was almost as good as telling her she’d get to play soccer with David Beckham! Are you kidding me? And he wasn’t just my crush, he was yours too!

Mairi laughed at her bouncing friend who was now officially as excited as she was.

Lana chuckled at the two friends who looked much the way they had when they were young girls and teenagers, excited over something that had happened to one or the other of them.

Uh, do you think you could share this news with us? Arielle asked.

Oh! Sorry! Emma said. Mairi is going to be the opening act for—

For Rain MacKenzie, Mairi finally blurted out the name.

No way! Morgan said.

Are you kidding me? Matt said.

Oh my God! Megan said.

That’s amazing! Arielle said.

Get us the performance schedule, Trent said. And some tickets. We’ll be there.

Patrick and Lana looked past the enthusiastic faces to meet each other’s eyes. While happy for their daughter’s big news, they had their reservations. Their little girl was about to hit the big time, and they had to wonder how much her life would change. Then another thought hit them both at the same time.

What was that about San Francisco seven years ago?

* * *

Come on, man, are you sure about this? Steve Keller asked the singer as he studied the photograph and listened to the woman’s sultry voice as it filled the room.

Positive.

What the hell was Rain thinking? As usual, he was thinking with the wrong body part. Okay, so the woman was beautiful and she had a good voice—maybe even a great voice—but, judging from what he’d read about her on the internet, she sang folk songs and big band era music. She had toured around the country, singing a variety of music in lounges and some larger venues, but she wasn’t exactly rock-star opener material.

But he needed to handle the matter delicately. Rain was in one of his stubborn moods. He knew better than to put down the singer that the man was obviously taken with, so he simply said, You realize her music is nothing like yours.

You say that like it’s a bad thing.

It is. And a huge mistake.

Besides, she’s very versatile, Rain defended his choice. When I heard her in Houston, she was singing country, and when I heard her in Seattle, she was singing big band music as well as some current popular songs.

What the hell? The man was following the woman around the country?

Rain looked up at his manager, easily reading his thoughts. They just happened to be touring the same cities we were.

Coincidence? Steve asked, suddenly suspicious.

There were several months—and several cities—in between. Actually, several years since he’d first seen her. But he wasn’t about to admit that to his manager. He could hardly admit to himself that, when he was twenty-three and only a couple years into being the successful rock star, he’d walked into a café in San Francisco and fallen in love. Or at least, within the first verse of a sixties folk song, had developed—for lack of a better word—a major crush. When she followed that song with an old Scottish ballad, he was a goner. It wouldn’t have been so bad, and he might have stuck around for the rest of the night and thought to find out her name and even talked to her, if she hadn’t been a kid at the time. But he figured she couldn’t have been a day over sixteen, and he was not into jailbait. So after standing there in a hypnotic state for three songs, he had turned and walked out, expecting this absurd crush to evaporate by the end of the night.

He’d been wrong. He had never forgotten her.

And when he’d heard her belt out Patsy Cline five years later in Houston, he had known instantly, despite the different genre of music, that it was his hippy teenager from his San Francisco fantasy. This time he hadn’t been so stupid. Just before a throng of fans had spotted him and mobbed him, forcing him to run, he had managed to ask the bartender her name. After that he had followed her career online, daily—to the point of obsession—quickly discovering that, while she did country music justice, her specialties were big band tunes and folk music, including Irish and Scottish folk songs and ballads. Some he had heard that night in San Francisco. The first night he’d heard her sing. The night he’d thought she was just a kid. He’d been wrong again. She was older than she looked. He’d done the math and realized that at the time she had been eighteen, not sixteen. Not jailbait after all.

And then when he’d realized that she would be in Seattle, he had made a point of catching her show in a local cocktail lounge. It had taken a lot of work to disguise himself so he could go out in public and not be ambushed, but he wasn’t going to miss an opportunity when it fell in his lap.

He could recall the moment their eyes had met. It was as if she knew who he was. Not the famous rock star, but the real person who was buried deep inside. She had held her focus on him for what felt like several minutes as she sang, I’ve Got a Crush on You as if to him. As if he were the only man in the room. As if he were the only man that mattered to her, because he was the man she actually did have a crush on.

What would that be like? he wondered. To be adored by a woman like her. A woman who loved . . . and sang from her soul.

After that night only a few weeks ago, he had made the decision. He wanted to meet her. And the perfect opportunity had presented itself. He needed to find an opening act. Fast.

Trust me on this, Keller. They’ll be perfect.

Steve didn’t trust him or his judgment, not for a minute. Why did Slate have to go and injure himself? Rain obviously had a hidden agenda. And when Rain MacKenzie had his mind set on something—or someone—there was no changing it. Best to give up now. There was no way he would win this argument.

Still, he was driven to make one last plea. They’re practically amateurs.

When the singer narrowed his eyes at him, he knew he should have left it alone.

If I had even a fraction of Mairi McCullough’s talent, I’d be—

What? A famous rock star? Steve laughed out loud.

Being a famous rock star isn’t everything. Not that the label fit him anyway. He had never felt comfortable with it or as if he deserved the success that came with it.

He’d give up the fame in a minute to have her kind of talent. At least, he’d like to think he would. He knew what had made him a success, and it wasn’t his skill as a singer. He had a decent voice. Husky enough to make women fall at his feet. But it wasn’t the voice that had turned him into what he was today. It was his looks and charisma. He’d always been comfortable in crowds, had always been a natural at seducing a large audience. It was definitely not his singing talent that had made him a success.

He couldn’t help thinking that there were thousands of far more talented musicians than he was who deserved the success he had fallen into. He could play the part easily enough. He’d pretty much mastered it over the past few years. But a part of him longed for the old days when he and his best friend used to practice their music in his parents’ basement in Berkeley or in an old barn on his grandparents’ property in Lafayette. He smiled at the memories. Memories of a different time, a time when he was struggling to survive. He had to be crazy to want that back. No one in their right mind would give up his kind of success for that life.

What are you saying? Steve asked him, concerned by the suddenly solemn expression on his face.

I’m saying that maybe it will be nice to have a really talented singer and her musicians opening for me.

So she could show him up? Okay. Fine. But there was something else going on, and he wanted to know what it was. What is it about this girl?

Rain stared at the album cover in his hand. She was sitting on a barstool, wearing jeans and a tie-dyed T-shirt, flowers in her braided hair, a guitar across her lap. There was a second shot of her dressed in a simple blue evening gown, her hair hanging down across her shoulders, her trio of musicians behind her.

The song had ended, and she started singing, Long Ago and Far Away. Not one Rain had heard before he’d bought her album, but he knew it was from the forties, an era she seemed to embrace.

She’s special, he answered his manager’s question. He looked from her pictures to the window of his New York hotel suite, suddenly anxious to get home, if he could call Los Angeles home.

He turned around and looked Steve in the eye, and said, I want her.

Thought so, Steve mused. The man was definitely not thinking with his brain. No offense, but why her? She’s cute and all, but there are plenty of great lays out there, and you don’t have to pay them to follow you around.

Not for that, you asshole.

Hey, don’t get mad at me. You told me you had to have her and not to take no for an answer.

I didn’t mean in bed. I meant on stage.

Like he believed that. Steve arched his eyebrows in doubt.

It’s the truth, Rain confronted the man whose thoughts had obviously taken a dive into the gutter.

Steve braved it and patted him on the back before heading for the door. Are you sure about that? he asked, a safe distance away now.

Rain froze him with a glare before turning back to the window. He exhaled when he heard the door close behind him. Of course he was sure. He needed her, her authenticity, her vibrancy, her spirit.

And if something else came of it . . . and their relationship developed from professional to personal, he could live with that.

CHAPTER 2

Rain stopped strumming his guitar and groaned at the knock on the door of his home music studio. He didn’t like being interrupted, especially when he was working on a song. But today it was almost a welcome relief. The song wasn’t working—no surprise—and he was in a lousy mood anyway. At least he was back home in L.A.

Yeah, what? He didn’t want to ruin his image by being civil. He was, after all, supposed to be a brooding musician. Along with a womanizer. Wouldn’t his parents be so proud.

When Steve walked in, he frowned. Oh, it’s you.

You want me to leave?

Rain brushed aside the question and shook his head. You’re here now. So, what do you want?

The man had been in a mood for a week now. Goddamned prickly musicians. Why had he gotten into this business anyway? You were the one who called me, remember?

I did?

Yeah, you told me to let you know as soon as we heard back from this—he looked down at the slip of paper in his hand—Mairi McCullough.

Rain pushed his guitar off his lap and stood up. Yeah? What did she say? And why had it taken her so long to call them back? His manager had contacted her two days ago to give her the benefit concert schedule. They were still waiting to hear her answer.

What do you think she said? She said she would love to open for you. A slight exaggeration. The woman had sounded downright terrified. But there is one caveat.

What caveat?

Two actually. She wants her musicians to perform with her.

Aren’t they just backup musicians she hires?

Yeah, but apparently she’s been using them for a few years now.

Fine. That’s no problem. He admired loyalty. Clearly, she had more integrity than he did. And the other?

They can’t start for two weeks. They’ll miss the L.A. shows.

That meant he wouldn’t be seeing her for more than two weeks. Why not?

She didn’t say. She just said that was when she would be available. He’d even gotten the impression that she was hoping he would move on to another performer. Which he hoped to do. Maybe you should just let it go, Rain. Maybe it’s for the best. I have three bands who would jump at the chance to open for you. They’ll adjust their schedules anyway they have to in order to accommodate us.

He was pacing now. What was wrong with him? When he glanced down at the picture of her that he’d printed from her website, he knew exactly what was wrong with him. He had been so damned anxious to hear that she was joining them and expecting an immediate answer, that, when he didn’t get it, he had turned into a spoiled moody child. And now? Now he was just plain pissed.

Give me her number. I’ll call her myself.

Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.

Give me her goddamned number.

Steve pulled his cell phone from his pocket and forwarded the contact information to Rain’s phone. After it dinged that he had a message, Rain snatched it off the table.

I really don’t think this is a good idea. And I’m not the only one.

What are you talking about?

Gail thinks you’ve lost your mind.

I don’t give a crap what Gail thinks.

Well, maybe you should. She’s been with you from the beginning. And as she says, she made you what you are today. Not that Steve didn’t credit himself with that as well.

Rain raised an eyebrow as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the framed photographs above the couch. He didn’t particularly like either one—the photograph that had been taken at one of his concerts or his reflection. At least Gail was giving him someone to blame. She was his publicist after all. But the truth was, he’d gone along with it all. So ultimately he was just as responsible as she was for the person he had become.

He looked back at the man who had been with him from the beginning as well. He had never considered him a friend, really. Steve was ten years his senior, a lot more knowledgeable about the music industry, and a lot more concerned about money than he’d ever been. But they spent a lot of time together. That had to mean something, such as that Steve cared. If not about Rain’s wellbeing, at least about his career . . . and money.

Okay, well, I’m leaving now. Let me know if you need me to find you a different opening act.

Rain refused to acknowledge his words, and instead pressed Mairi McCullough’s number into the phone just as his studio door closed.

She answered on the fourth ring. At least he assumed she answered. It was her cell phone after all. Only the voice at the other end didn’t have any of that husky quality that it had when she sang some of her forties songs. And it sounded a lot younger. How old was she again? Hadn’t her bio said twenty-two? She sure didn’t sound twenty-two.

Uh, Mairi? he asked, shocked and disturbed by how nervous he was.

No, this is Belle.

Belle?

I’m her niece, the girl said, and Rain could hear the pride in her voice.

Obviously she wasn’t out on tour any longer, which he already knew from her website, so why couldn’t she be in L.A. that weekend? Oh, well, Belle, can I speak with Mairi?

Sure. But she’s changing. It will be a sec. Can I tell her who’s calling?

His mind was stuck on the fact that she was changing clothes. It was the middle of the day. What was she wearing? What was she changing into? At what point in her changing was she? That last question had nothing to do with wanting to know how quickly she would be coming to the phone.

Uh, yeah, tell her it’s Rain MacKenzie.

There was a gasp, then silence on the other end of the phone, then a hoarse, The real Rain MacKenzie?

He was glad to hear her niece at least knew who he was. He wondered how old she was. If she was over twelve, it was to be expected. Teenage girls were some of his biggest fans.

Yep, that would be me. How old are you, Belle?

Me? Uh, me? I’m, uh, I’m fifteen.

Oh, well, if you give me your address, I’ll send you an autographed copy of my latest album.

Oh my God! She rattled off her address, and Rain wrote it on the back of the paper where he’d written down some lyrics, some goddamned lousy lyrics.

By the time he had repeated it back to her, he heard another voice. A familiar voice. A voice that reduced him to a helpless pathetic excuse for a man.

He’s on the phone? Rain could hear Mairi asking her niece. You’re sure it’s him?

Yeah, it is! And he’s gonna send me an autographed album! Belle was obviously struggling to keep her voice down and her hand over the phone. Why didn’t you tell me you know him!

I don’t. Now, do you think you could give me my phone?

Oh! Yeah! Here! The young girl shoved the phone at her aunt and fell back onto Mairi’s bed in a dream-like state.

Mairi would have laughed if she weren’t so nervous now that she was holding the phone in her hand. She swallowed hard before realizing that she needed to press it to her ear before speaking. Hello?

Mairi?

Yes.

This is Rain MacKenzie.

Mairi sucked in her breath and said more calmly than she felt. What can I do for you Mr. MacKenzie?

Rain.

Rain.

You can come to L.A. next weekend. Actually sooner, if possible.

Oh. Well, I already discussed that with your manager. I would love to open for you—especially since this is a benefit concert tour—but I’m not available until the first weekend in December. It’s the soonest we can make it.

Do you have another gig?

Uh, you could say that.

Rain frowned. Clearly it wasn’t just a job she was committed to. Can you cancel it?

No, that’s not possible.

How about rescheduling it? And what was it, anyway? It couldn’t possibly be more important than a career-making concert.

I’m afraid I can’t. It’s my best friend’s wedding. And she was not about to miss it. She always made a point of scheduling her tours around family weddings. In early October was her Cousin Allie’s and Gabe’s which was soon followed by her Cousin Kayleigh’s wedding with Jack Tucker, the famous chef. Mairi had deliberately scheduled West Coast venues only in order to be available to sing at both. And now she was home again to celebrate Thanksgiving and to help with and be there for her best friend and her brother’s wedding. To say nothing of her niece’s first dance.

I’m sure she’ll understand.

Knowing Emma, he was probably right. She might, but my brother won’t.

Your brother? Why would he care?

Because he’s the groom.

Rain couldn’t believe any of this. The woman was putting her family ahead of her career? Damn. She was everything he suspected she was. But what was most shocking to him was how upset he was at the thought that she might be turning down the opportunity to open for him.

You’d seriously consider throwing away the chance to open for me in order to attend a wedding?

I would, Mairi said simply. She thought it best not to mention that she also wanted to be there to see her niece all dressed up and going off to her first dance.

The silence was like a knife to her stomach. Was she really going to give up this opportunity? This opportunity that both excited and terrified her?

Before he could say goodbye and move on to another singer, she quickly said, Of course, I’d prefer not to. If we could join you the following weekend, we’d really appreciate your understanding and patience.

What understanding and patience? He’d thrown those two traits out the window a long time