Sing You Home by Ava Hunter

Sal steps up to the dresser mirror only to blink at her strange reflection. Dark cat-eyes. Lavish false eyelashes that have her looking like some dolled-up debutante. It feels appropriate for the evening. Tonight’s the Brothers Kincaid’s Opry performance. Earlier today, a team of makeup artists and hairdressers cornered her in their small bathroom to work their magic. An hour of hair and makeup had Sal squirming.

But now.

Now, she’s never felt so beautiful. Her ruby lips curve as she evaluates her tight black dress. With a sweetheart neckline and a thigh-high slit that’ll make Luke’s eyes bug, it fits her like the most perfect glove. As Sal smooths out the fabric, her hand brushes against her flat stomach, then jerks away like she’s been burned.

Despair clenches so tight in Sal’s chest that she can barely breathe.

Two days haven’t been enough time to process the news. She was pregnant.

God, how she aches for a memory of her unborn baby. The sound of his heartbeat, the small flutters of his kicks, the feel of Luke’s muscled hand fanned out on her swollen stomach.

She wishes Luke had told her the truth. All this time, he’s been dealing with his grief alone. They could have mourned together. She could have known about her past. Though she understands why he wanted to protect her. The pain on his face, the guilt, tore at her heart. But was there something else? Regret? More secrets?

Sal shakes off her doubt and straightens her shoulders. No. He said that was all. He told her everything that mattered.

A small rumble of thunder has her moving to the window. Dark clouds billow the sky. The scent of rain in the air. Down below, a limo idles, telling her she’s late. Per usual.

Giving herself one last look in the mirror, Sal runs a finger through her hair, flat-ironed into old Hollywood vintage waves. She slips her cell phone into her beaded black clutch.

When she turns around, she finds Luke standing there. Staring. His expression dazed, enchanted.

Sal props a hand on her hip. “Well, say something, country boy. Can’t leave me hanging.”

“Goddamn, darlin’.” Luke presses a hand against his heart. “You mean to kill me.”

Then, they’re moving in sync, drawn to each other like magnets.

She smiles. “Hell, if you’re a dead man walking, at least give me a kiss before you go.”

Luke lets out a breath, shaking his head as he brings her into his strong arms. “That I can do.”

Leaning down, Luke palms the cradle of her skull and fuses his lips to hers. He kisses her breathless, kisses her until she’s jelly-kneed and trembling. His lips trace the curve of her jaw, her collarbone to kiss her bare shoulder.

“You look gorgeous, Sal. Damn near perfect.”

The look on his face nearly unhinges her. It’s alight with pride. Love. Awe.

A lightning bolt of love hits Sal and she stands on tiptoes to kiss him again. His scent makes her heady with lust. When she settles herself back on her feet, she grips Luke’s tie. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Although Sal’s pretty sure that’s the understatement of the century. Luke’s dressed to kill in a tweed jacket and a pearl snap shirt. A bit of scruff on his face. Suave. The hottest cowboy she’s ever seen.

“Maybe we should stay here tonight,” Luke growls, burying his face in her silky hair. He slips a hand into the low back of her sleek dress, his calloused fingers dancing like velvet across her skin. Letting loose a throaty gasp, Sal rakes her hands through his dark hair, arcing her body up into him.

Sal laughs, whispers against his lips. “If you get me out of this dress, I might not get it back on.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Luke grins down at her, gliding his hand beneath her hair, bringing her in for another kiss. “Who needs the Opry?”

It’s true. She sees it in his eyes. He’d give up everything just to have her.

“You,” Sal murmurs. It takes all her strength to drag herself away from his kiss. “You need the Opry, Luke. You need to do this.”

Concern flickers across Luke’s face. “You sure you feel up to this? The press? The concert? The after-party?”

She fixes him with a look of exasperation. “Tonight will be perfect, Luke. You will be perfect. And I absolutely cannot wait to stand by your side and be your wife.”

His throat bobs. “I’ve been meanin’ to do this for a long time now. I got you somethin’, Sal. If you’ll have it.”

She tilts her head, her long dark hair falling over her shoulder. “What is it?”

Pulling back from her, Luke reaches into his jacket pocket and unveils a platinum band with rows of glittering diamonds.

Sal’s legs turn to jelly. Her hands fly to her mouth as Luke gets down on one knee. He stares up at her, his face heavy with emotion as he reaches for her hand. “I’m a man in love with you, Sal, askin’ if you’ll have me. Again.”

Sal stands mute, motionless. Her eyes fill at the beauty of this moment, at the beauty of this man. This man who has never given up on her, who has stood by her side and been her road for longer than she can remember.

Smiling through her tears, Sal falls to her knees in front of Luke. She clutches his hands to her breast and nods.

“Again, and again, and again.”

Luke’s face breaks out into a smile so bright it could charge the sun. With trembling hands, he slips the ring onto Sal’s finger.

She stares at it. It’s so beautiful, feels so right it steals her breath. Then she looks up, into his eyes, and says steadily, “All the roads lead to us, Luke. They always will.”

Luke’s eyes water at the weight of her words. He gathers her hand in his, pressing it to his chest so she can feel who his heart beats for. “This is yours,” he says. “It’s always been yours, Sal. No one else’s.”

A slow, delicious kiss and then Sal’s murmuring, “Okay, now we’re really late.”

With a wild hoot, a nip of her shoulder, Luke’s standing. Only Sal remains kneeling. He stares down at her, confused. “Darlin’?”

A breathless laugh escapes Sal’s lips. “I can’t get up. My dress—it’s too tight.” Damn Lacey for talking her into this outfit. “How did I get down here, anyway?”

He smirks. “Sheer adrenaline to accept the ring.”

With a roguish grin, Luke reaches down and helps her stand. When she’s settled, dress smoothed out, Luke cleaves her toward him, kissing her ring finger, her cheeks, her tears.

“You ready to get to it?”

For a long moment, Sal stares at him as she takes it all in. Luke. Her life.

If her memory never returns, she’s fine with that. She knows what she has. She’s finally where she needs to be.

Sal smiles. “Ready.”

Luke extends a hand to Sal as he exits the limo first to a rampant flash of cameras. She slides out, a sunny smile on her face. No wincing at the cameras. No trace of apprehension. She’s all cool confidence.

Behind her, Jace, Emmy Lou and Seth follow.

Sal stares up at Luke, her expression half-amused, half-awed. Her eyes brush to the billboard above them where the Brothers Kincaid is spelled out in lights, then they swivel to the crowd of gawking spectators.

Leaning in close to Luke, Sal tugs on his arm and whispers, “They’re staring, Luke.”

Seth dips his mouth close to Sal’s ear. “That’s because you were dead,” he says, and Jace adds, “She is risen.”

They snicker.

Sal laughs, but Luke glowers at them. “Knock it off, you two.”

A camera flashes, catching him mid-scowl.

“C’mon, Luke,” Emmy Lou says sweetly through gritted teeth. “Give ’em a smile. I am not gettin’ a terrible photo in the paper.”

After flashing a dazzling smile, well-practiced from her rodeo queen days in the ring, Emmy Lou yanks Jace after her, her crinoline skirt swinging like a hula hoop.

As they walk down the red carpet, Luke takes a deep breath, trying to keep a smile on his face. It’s taking all he has not to overreact when anyone gets too close to his wife. He’s well aware the security team he’s hired hovers a few feet away in the wings. He’s also aware Roy’s still out there.

At the next photo op, they stop. Pose.

A reporter butts in. “That ring looks good on you, Sal,” she says. The crowd hushes, leans forward for her reply.

Luke frowns.

Sal only smiles.

The band on her finger sparkles in the lights of the flashbulbs.

“It does look good on me,” Sal replies. She stares up at Luke, her glittery eyes heavy-lidded. “And so does he,” she adds smoothly.

Luke hoots out a laugh. Cameras flash.

Sal gives him a flirty smile, one laced with the knowledge that Luke’s all hers.

As they move down the red carpet, Luke tucks Sal a little tighter to his side. Holding her close is all he can do.

Because they’re staring. Everyone’s staring. At Sal. At that dress that nearly brought him to his knees.

Her beauty’s had him in a daze since they left the house. Luke can’t take his eyes off her. And it’s clear no one else can either. She’s a goddess walking. A goddess he longs to take home and dethrone pretty damn quick.

“Hey, over here, beautiful!” a photographer yells.

“C’mon, smile pretty for the camera, Sal!” another calls out.

Luke wishes he could freeze-frame this moment. His wife by his side again, on a red carpet, stunning, smiling, her hand in his.

The crowd gasps as the first raindrop hits. Photographers clamber for cover. A reporter ducks under an umbrella. Emmy Lou squeals and takes off for the nearest exit. Seth swears and glances down at his boots.

Sal tips her head back and laughs. A beautiful, joyous sound that damn near shatters him.

Then she loops one arm through Seth’s, the other through Luke’s, and tugs them down the red carpet toward the stage.

Backstage, Sal spies the glitter of the microphones, a hushed audience and dim lights as the Brothers Kincaid ready their next song. As she sidles through stagehands and producers, she’s moved, jostled, greeted with reverence.

Sal looks for Mort but doesn’t find him; instead, she’s kissed by Emmy Lou and pulled into position.

Hovering by the curtain, she peers out onto the stage and smiles. Jace has the big old bass in his hands. Seth sits around with a fiddle on his knee. And then Luke strides across the wooden floor to rest at the lip of the stage. The spotlight comes on. Getting a grip on the microphone, tall enough for him to reach, he praises his roots, salutes the city-that-is-holy: Nashville. He lets out a hoot and a holler, and instantly, applause erupts, loud as rushing water.

Luke strums the first few chords of “Sal’s Song.”

Jittery, unable to stand it, Sal screams and throws a hand into the air.

Glancing over his shoulder, not a beat broken, Luke throws her a wink.