Page 28 of Sandbar Summer (Summer Cottage #3)

“I love the food shows and the competitions. If I could cook, I’d have entered that instead of The Voice.

” She laughed at her own joke, and Goldie did, too.

The girl was charming, and her energy was infectious.

She seemed about a decade and a half too young for Drake, but he was immature, so maybe it was perfect.

“Her new place is all local, incredible peak of the season dining.”

“We have to do it, Drake, we have to!”

Goldie had an ally she hadn’t expected. “Like I said, it’s on me,” she assured them. “I promise it will be the meal of your lives.”

River Ann clapped her hands in approval.

“Can you give us a minute, babe?” Drake said to River Ann.

“Yep, sure, can I invite my backup singers? Would that be too much?”

“I haven’t even said we’re doing this.”

Goldie looked at River Ann and nodded yes, with a wink.

“He’ll do it. He does whatever I say.” River Ann returned the wink and made her way to the door of the tour bus.

“I’ll make sure he gives me your digits,” Goldie told her. “I’ll text you.”

River Ann bounded out of the bus. She took the youth that Drake was hanging on to with her.

“Well, she seems a bit to keep up with. Congrats.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s a good problem.”

“I’d say.”

Drake found a shirt and squirmed into it. He was still lean as ever.

“I liked you in Dusty Trail. I always thought you had it in you to be a good actor.” Goldie wasn’t blowing smoke. Drake had a featured role in the limited series, and he was good. Surprisingly so.

“Thanks, well, Tim McGraw sets that standard, but I didn’t do too badly.”

“You did great, so how about it? Come out to dinner?”

“Why do you want us to? Why now?”

“I need to borrow your heat.”

“What?”

“I’m getting dogged lately by fans of VSU, they’re hating me, long story, but I want to help bump tourism in this little town, Irish Hills, where the restaurant is, but I can’t do it myself.”

“Why?”

“I’m supposed to be in hiding. I’m trying not to attract attention.”

“That dress is the opposite of that, just so you know.” He gave her a look that used to work like a charm.

It didn’t anymore, hmm. That knowledge was worth the little trip here, even if he didn’t accept her invite to Irish Hills.

“Ha, thanks. What do you say? Help me out? I mean, when we broke up, you told me you owed me, remember? I mean, the logo on the bus is an example.”

She’d helped a lot back when Drake and Burgundy Four were exploding in popularity. She knew the ropes of fame and helped him navigate some of the early pitfalls. And yet he couldn’t be bothered to come to the hospital when she asked.

“Yeah. I was an idiot. That was crummy of me not to come, when, you know. Just disappearing.”

“Kind of, but I survived. And you’re with River Ann, so it all worked out.”

It had all worked out, but Goldie had been depressed and disappointed back then. Drake had seemed like the last love of her life. The idea that he wasn’t was only now starting to blossom. She’d gotten over it, but it had taken time.

“So, what’s the deal, we come out to Hope’s, whatever it’s called in Irish something or other, and you buy us dinner?”

“Yes. And have your people do some social on it.”

“Alright, I actually don’t think I have a choice. River Ann gets her way in all things.”

Goldie felt a tad sorry for Drake all of a sudden. He seemed to be every decade of his almost fifty years in relation to keeping up with a twenty-something.

“Great, and if you could look, ugh, well, every inch Burgundy Four, that would be great.”

“So, not completely off the clock, eh?”

“Drake, you know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“I know. Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, and I’ll see you tomorrow night. I promise it is way better than a hospital bedside.”

“Oh ouch.”

“Same cell?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll text you and Casey the details.”

“Fine, fine, but you know River Ann is gluten-free,” Drake said.

“Got it.”

Goldie had what she needed, a promise from Drake, his band, and the bonus of River Ann. As she headed back to Joe and the truck. On her way, she ran into River Ann again.

“Thanks so much for your help with Drake. You guys will have a great time. I promise, and you know, totally bring your backup singers and anyone else who’s around tomorrow night who needs a nice dinner away from the melee.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

River Ann squealed like she’d won the speed round on Family Feud. Goldie laughed and left her new friend to invite whoever she wanted.

She caught back up with Joe, who was surrounded by a few lovely country music groupies.

She listened as he explained that no, he wasn’t Tim McGraw.

“Just a carpenter. I promise. And he’s way shorter than me, I’m pretty sure.”

“Come on, Tim, we need to get rolling. Sorry, ladies.”

“We knew it was you.”

Joe looked at her like she was insane. “You’re not helping,” Joe said.

Goldie kept a straight face.

“Can we get an autograph or a selfie or—”

“—Listen, we’re running late, but if you want to catch a glimpse of him tomorrow, he likes to shop in this little place called Irish Hills, just up the road.”

The girls seemed positively berserk over that.

“You’re a lot shorter than I thought,” one of the girls said. This time it was Goldie’s height in question.

“Yeah, I’m taking a selfie to prove we met you two.”

Before Goldie could protest, the girls had their backs to her, their cameras in the air, and were snapping pics.

“Wow, Tim McGraw and Faith Hill, we’re hitting the jackpot!”

Goldie got in the truck. If they posted to social, none of the fanboys would care. She looked nothing like Faith Hill. These poor kids were likely drunk or needed their eyes checked.

“We better get out of her before they realize we’re neither of those two.”

Joe slowly navigated his truck through the maze that was the VIP backstage area, and once they got back on M-50, Joe asked the question.

“Okay, so what was that all about? I think you owe good ole Tim McGraw the details.”

Goldie was pleased with herself, and now that it looked like she’d succeeded, she spilled her guts.

“I’ve got about half a dozen country music stars headed to Irish Hills.”

“Yeah, when?”

“Tomorrow. Can you take me to Nora House? I need to fill Libby in on my plan.”

“Will do, and I mean, do I look like Tim McGraw?”

“In a way, you’re taller, but I mean, do I look like Faith Hill?”

“In a way, but you’re shorter.”

They drove back to Irish Hills, and Goldie was feeling mighty proud of herself. If she couldn’t put Irish Hills on the map due to her current career crisis, at least she could make it happen with Drake and his band.