Roxy's Song: Love in Little River Book One Read online

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  Copyright © 2019 by Sweetly Us Press, LLC

  E-book edition

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles. This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the authors’ imaginations and are not to be construed as real.

  Cover design © 2021 by Sweetly Us Press

  Cover Illustration Credit: sartsrabonti via Fiverr.com

  Editor: Jenny Proctor | www.jennyproctor.com

  Published by Sweetly Us Press

  www.sweetlyuspress.com

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Read Book 2

  Sneak Peek!

  Newsletter

  Also By Raneé S. Clark

  Love in Little River

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  Roxy Adams studied the poster that took up nearly the entire front window of the Little River Mercantile and sighed.

  “I’m sure you’re as excited as anyone to see Tag’s concert,” Mrs. Davis said as she glanced over at the picture and then started pulling Roxy’s purchases over the scanner.

  Roxy forced a smile and forced herself not to take another look at the six-foot-tall poster with the handsome, blond-haired man in a ball cap, a guitar slung across his back and his head tipped to the sky as he crooned into a microphone.

  “Of course,” she said, since that’s what Mrs. Davis expected. And if it were Tag Turner singing on Friday night, she might be. But it was Taggart Dubois, an unarguable star of country music. Not the boy who used to sing his soul to her on occasion.

  The truth was, she wasn’t even going. Among every other person in the county, her former friend was unlikely to notice she wasn’t in the sold-out audience.

  “My, I don’t know how long it’s been since that boy came home,” Mrs. Davis went on, packing the last of Roxy’s items away in the fabric bag Roxy had brought in. The woman was very efficient at her job.

  Eight years. Since he graduated and left town, hitchhiking his way across the country to Nashville and stardom. “Mmm,” she said out loud. She swiped her card and waved goodbye, echoing Mrs. Davis’s admonition to have a nice day.

  She didn’t even take a second look at the poster as she headed out to her truck in the parking lot.

  The drive back to the Arrow C was quiet. The local radio station had been playing Tag’s hits non-stop the last week in preparation for his appearance at the county fair that weekend. Normally Roxy didn’t mind hearing a song or two—or switching stations when she just didn’t want to listen—but the last few days it had just been easier to keep it off. And by the time she remembered she didn’t want to listen to the radio, she was already driving and couldn’t switch on the playlist from her phone.

  She pulled into her garage and paused a minute to take a deep breath. The local motels in town were booked, thanks to the concert, so the guests at the ranch this weekend were only interested in the rooms the Arrow C had available, not the many dude ranch entertainments they provided. Roxy’s great-grandmother Rozzy Adams would have been sad to see Roxy move out of the big, Victorian ranch-house-slash-mansion that had been the home of the Nikels-Pender-Adams clan for seven generations. But Roxy thanked the heavens, especially this weekend, for her own space in the newer house she’d built behind it—renovating the turn-of-the-century brick mansion solely into rooms for those who came to experience a slice of western life. She wouldn’t have to run into one of the many concert goers staying at the Ranch House—the simple name she’d chosen for it—and then end up pretending excitement for an event she’d dreaded since it was first announced.

  As she stepped into the kitchen and set the bag of groceries on the counter, readying to put them away, she heard gravel crunching in the drive. Looking through the open kitchen and living room space to the big picture window in the front, she saw Nash Roberts hop out of his Jeep and head up the wide, wooden steps to her front door. He knocked quickly, already stepping inside as she called for him to come in. In the seven months since they’d started dating, he’d become comfortable in her home. She stowed away the milk and eggs in the fridge before heading into the living room to greet him.

  Nash waved an envelope around before dipping down to kiss her hello, then gently tapped the edge of it on her nose. “Guess what I won today, Miss Adams.”

  Roxy’s heart sank. Despite not listening to the radio for several days, she did know that the station was giving away at least a dozen tickets to Tag’s concert. She plastered on a smile anyway.

  “You probably could’ve gotten us these,” Nash went on, his grin stretching wider and wider. “But I got backstage passes! And tickets!” He whooped and spun her around before setting her back down and pulling her close to kiss her again.

  Roxy tried to lose herself in the way he wrapped his arms around her back and the softness of his lips, but her brain kept spinning around having to go to Tag’s concert. Having to see him up close for the first time since her freshman year of college, when he showed up at her dorm on the brink of stardom and begged her to come along. Since she called him crazy for thinking he actually loved her and that it wasn’t just years of friendship speaking. Since he’d claimed she’d broken his heart in half.

  “You know I haven’t spoken to Tag in forever,” she murmured.

  Nash scoffed, but still grinned. “Tag Turner would drop his guitar and run whenever Roxy called,” he teased.

  “Maybe Tag Turner would.” She slapped Nash’s shoulder. He was a few years older than her and Tag and knew all about their friendship in high school. It might be annoying at the moment that he knew all about her past, but she loved him for being able to give her something Tag would have never been able too—a home. An actual home in one spot; namely, Little River. The town she’d grown up in, along with generations of her ancestors. A town she helped support with the tourists her bed and breakfast brought in.

  Nash turned serious, pulling Roxy back to him and leaning over her. “You’re right. You haven’t talked to him in forever, and it’s about time you did, Rox.”

  She shook her head and nudged away from him, heading back to the kitchen to put away the rest of her groceries. “Tag is not coming back to Little River to reconnect with anyone. He’s coming back because that’s what rock stars like him do—show up in their hometown to impress everyone and then move back on.” Like he always does, she added to herself, careful not to slam the cupboard shut when she put away the bread. She’d been right to turn him down when he asked her to give up everything and go on the road with him. He’d forgotten all about her the minute she said no. And if she’d said yes? How long before he would have forgotten about her anyway? Just like in high school, there was always a swarm of girls who fell under the sway of that silly spell his singing put over everyone. H
e never needed Roxy.

  Nash leaned over the island and snagged her hand as she moved to put away the fruit. He threaded his fingers through hers. “Then go and be impressed along with everyone else. There’s nothing wrong with showing Tag he did well for himself. It doesn’t make you wrong for not following him like he wanted if you tell him good job.”

  She paused. “I know. I’m sorry for not being more excited. It’ll be a fun night and I’m happy for you.” She edged around the island and put her arms around him. “But then, I’ve always known you were lucky. You got me.”

  “Boy, am I, honey.”

  And this time Roxy did succeed in losing herself in Nash’s kiss.

  Roxy discovered she would also have to swear off social media, probably until weeks after Tag’s concert. Even her own sister had joined in the hullabaloo, posting a picture of her, Tag, and Roxy (and tagging Roxy, which was how she ended up not scrolling right past it) from high school. We sure are proud of you, Tag, Taylor had written. Wish I was home with everyone to cheer you on Friday night!

  Maybe Nash wouldn’t mind if Taylor took Roxy’s ticket.

  Swearing off social media was easy. If only she could swear off the Ranch House, like her mother did most of the year. Even after Roxy had renovated it, her mother saw her father around every corner. The same way Roxy never could quite escape the fact that Tag had spent far too much time in this home during their growing up years. Roxy’s mother, Anna, lived in Arizona full time now, and Roxy always went for a few weeks in the winter when Wyoming became unbearable and she could swear it would never get warm again. Not many guests braved staying at the Ranch House in mid-January.

  Unfortunately, the manager, Bellamy, texted that morning that she needed Roxy to come sign some paperwork. Bellamy took care of much of the day-to-day business these days, leaving Roxy to the big picture management of the ranch and the Ranch House. Lately she’d been spending a lot of time researching various projects she could introduce on the ranch to give back. The Ranch House had revived the flagging tourist trade when they’d opened a couple years before, but Roxy knew there was more she could do for her beloved community.

  Though various things had trimmed the size of the ranch in recent years, the Arrow C was still one of the biggest ranches in Wyoming, and Roxy had been trying to find a way to harness its success for the good of the county and the state. She’d already planned a summer retreat for some low-income kids from Casper to come spend a week on the ranch later in the summer, but the thought that she should do something bigger to contribute kept nagging at her.

  When she walked in the front door of the Ranch House, she made sure to put on a smile for the guests milling around. The once sixteen-room mansion now boasted fifteen guest rooms that made it the perfect hideaway, and every single one of those rooms was at max capacity this weekend. Roxy had been pleased to hire a couple of high school kids from in town to help with the extra load.

  “Miss Adams?” A teenage girl broke away from where she sat with her family at the dining room table eating the buffet breakfast that the staff had set out.

  “Yes?” Roxy steeled herself for some question concerning Tag. Bellamy had insisted on putting a big picture on the website for the Ranch House of Tag and Roxy out on a ride on Arrow C land—The Arrow C Ranch House is proud to welcome home Taggart Dubois to Little River! Roxy rolled her eyes every time she saw it.

  “Is it true that you knew Taggart Dubois growing up?” she asked.

  It was painful to keep her smile from turning sad or bitter. “Sure is.” Roxy nodded toward the kitchen. “He sat at this very table more often than I can count.” That was a stretch. He’d sat at the dining room table that had been in this one’s place. That old one had seen too many dinners with Tag Turner, too many games of spoons, too many late-night conversations with all their friends to be presentable in an establishment like the Ranch House.

  The girl gave a soft squee and used her phone to snap a selfie of herself in front of the table. Her fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard of her phone and Roxy was, thankfully, forgotten. She slipped away to Bellamy’s office. It had been Roxy’s mother’s office before she’d moved and left the house to Roxy.

  When Roxy opened one of the pretty French doors that closed off the space from the rest of the living area, Bellamy sat behind a rustic wooden desk, intent on the computer in front of her. She looked up when Roxy closed the door behind her. “Good morning.”

  “What have you got?” Roxy settled into one of the arm chairs across from the desk. The decorator had given the room the same homey feel as the rest of the house, and if it hadn’t been for the big desk, it might have felt like a sitting room instead.

  Bellamy pushed some papers across the desk along with a pen. “License renewals,” she explained. Then she handed Roxy a sticky note. “Danny said Four Star called again,” Bellamy said, referring to the ranch foreman.

  Roxy shook her head as soon as she heard the energy company’s name. “The answer is still no.”

  Bellamy nodded and steepled her hands. “I understand you don’t want them mining on the ranch, but you’ve been wanting to give back, and you should at least consider what something like this would do for the local economy. Year-round jobs, rather than seasonal work to serve the guests we bring out.”

  Roxy blew out a breath. “I know, I know. I’ll give it some more thought but tell Danny to hold them off. We’re not deciding anything in a rush.”

  Bellamy nodded and Roxy set to work signing the paperwork. “It’s busy out there,” Roxy murmured as she pulled another page forward.

  “Best business we’ve done all summer,” Bellamy said proudly. “Thank you, Taggart Dubois.”

  “Hmph.” Roxy signed another paper and handed it over. Bellamy simply grinned.

  “Savannah called to make sure we were still good for her wedding this fall, and could she at least please pay the deposit fee? It would make her feel better.” Bellamy ticked something off in her notebook as she spoke.

  “Absolutely it’s still on, and absolutely she will not pay a dime. She’s my cousin and my dad would roll over in his grave if a descendent of Big Ed Pender had to pay to get married on her own family’s legacy.” Roxy laughed. “Besides, she’s paying Brook enough for the pictures, that it will be nice advertising when they tell everyone where they held the ceremony. Doing more weddings out here would be good for the town.” She ticked off a list of people whose businesses would flourish if they could make the Ranch House a premier event spot. Catering, photography, rentals, entertainment. Between her and Bellamy, they could sweet talk plenty of people into using local businesses, rather than hiring out of Casper or Billings.

  She slid the last piece of paperwork over to Bellamy. “Mind if I crawl out your window? Someone out there is on the verge of asking me all of Tag’s favorites.”

  Bellamy arched her brows in an expression with a serious lack of sympathy. “You should quit overthinking it and get into the whole thing. You’d have a lot more fun.”

  “So that’s a no, I can’t crawl out your window?”

  Bellamy shook her head. “So you told him no ten years ago—”

  “Eight,” Roxy corrected with an indignant scowl. She wasn’t that old yet.

  “And he took it bad and didn’t talk to you after that. Do you really think it’s bugging him as much as it bugs you? I’m sorry to be the one to say it, but he probably forgot about it a long time ago and ignoring every reference to the man isn’t hurting him a bit.”

  Roxy huffed. “When you put it that way, it sounds really childish.”

  “If the shoe fits, honey,” Bellamy murmured, going back to something on the computer.

  Roxy huffed again, but Bellamy only laughed and didn’t look up as Roxy left the office. Ignoring her friend’s insensitivity, she headed out to the main area to brave the fans. They would all be gone by Saturday morning. She could last that long.

  CHAPTER TWO

  When Nash had showed Roxy
those tickets, she hadn’t even glanced at where the seats were, but as he kept leading her closer and closer to the stage, her eyes got wider and wider. This close, Tag would be able to look right down and see them, she was sure of it. Or maybe all the lights the crew had brought in to surround the stage would blind him, and she’d be lost in a sea of blackness.

  She didn’t know. She’d never been to one of Tag’s concerts before. Not even before that stupid night in Laramie, back when they were still talking. He’d asked her plenty of times to come and listen to him. To show her around backstage and meet the big names he was opening for at the time. After Laramie, she didn’t go to his concerts. She didn’t buy his songs. Nash didn’t know the half of the lengths she’d gone to prove to Tag Turner that she didn’t need him or his fame.

  “Wow, Nash!” she had to shout over the rumble of the crowd around them. The thousands of people packed onto the fairgrounds had likely tripled the population of the county for the night.

  He turned to look at the stage, cranking his head back to see the crew rushing around with last-minute preparations. “Wow is right. I didn’t even realize,” he called back to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close in the crush of people.

  They waved at a group of the guests at the ranch who passed them to get to still-closer seats and then stopped to talk to various people they knew from Little River, several of whom shook Nash’s hand vigorously and congratulated him on the great seats and the backstage passes.

  “Make sure you say hi to Tag for us, Roxy,” too many said. “Tell him how proud we are.”