Page 31 of Smoky Mountain Dreams

“Twenty when Brigid was born. Twenty-three, almosttwenty-four with Will, but yeah, looking back, it seems like we were awfullyyoung. Kids—they grow their parents up fast. That’s for sure.”

Jesse was sounding wistful again, which hadn’t beenChristopher’s intention. He’d wanted to cheer him up, get him laughing, andhopefully get him a little intoxicated so that he’d want to come back toChristopher’s place. But…oh, wait. Kids. They complicated things.

“Brigid and Will—where are they tonight?” Christopher asked.“You could have brought them along.”

Jesse looked at him like he was insane, and Christopherrealized that Jesse probably didn’t want to introduce his kids to every guy hewent on a date with. Jesse was good looking, well-to-do, and well-known; heprobably went on a lot of dates.

“Okay, maybe not. I can see why you wouldn’t want to dothat,” Christopher said, feeling a rush of heat in his face.

“They’re at my sister’s tonight. Amanda will get them toschool in the morning. She likes to keep them.”

“It’s good you have help that you trust.”

“Yeah.” Jesse licked his lips, smirking a little. “You know,there’s more than one reason I didn’t want them here tonight. I enjoyed ourtime together in the mill the other night, and I was hoping…” He gazed atChristopher, his eyes very clear in his desire, and he let the sentence hang.

“Oh! Good!” Christopher couldn’t believe he’d let thatescape. His face felt even hotter. “I mean, right, okay. That sounds nice. Ohhell—fine—I have never been cool and I can’t start trying now. I’ll just tellyou—I’d really hoped the same thing and I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Jesse laughed and swallowed more of his cider. “You’rereally cute.”

“Why, thanks. So are you.”

Jesse’s laughter continued softly, and then he askedChristopher about when he started singing. “Have you always done it? Or was itsomething that came later?”

“Oh God, where to start?”

“Wherever you think the beginning is?”

Christopher talked about his grandparents—his grandfather,the mandolin playing, toe-tapping, singing one on his father’s side of thefamily, and his Granddad who played the fiddle out on the back porch while Granwould tuck Christopher and Jackie in bed when they came to visit, the sweetwail of it putting him to sleep.

“Granddad died when I was eight, and I used to sing some ofthe old songs he played just to feel close to him again. And then I started towrite my own songs.”

Jesse’s eyebrows went up. “You play an instrument?”

“Just guitar and a little piano, and not that well. Enoughto pick out my own tunes and a few by other folks. In the end, I just didn’t havewhat it took. That’s what I heard over and over in Nashville anyway.”

There. It was out on the table. His biggest humiliation, hisvanity and hope that had been crushed so easily under the heels of Nashville’scowboy boots and then shredded between the teeth of fake Southern smiles. Heexhaled, feeling the weight lift. He always felt better once he confessedsomething like that, even if he still wasn’t sure of the outcome. One day, hehoped he wouldn’t be so ashamed. Today wasn’t that day, but if Jesse could tellhim about his wife’s death, then Christopher could share something that madehim vulnerable too. It only seemed fair.

“What do they know?” Jesse said, motioning to Sarah foranother hard cider.

“A lot, apparently. Or enough. But it’s okay. I’m happy withmy fate. I love Gatlinburg, and SMD has been good to me. Not everyone can beRyan Adams, or hell, Lash Hinkins for that matter.”

Jesse studied him a moment, a soft expression on his face. “You’reright. You’ll never be Ryan Adams or Lash Hinkins, or anyone else at all.”

Christopher licked his lips, took another sip of hismargarita, and thought for a moment. “Is this where I’m supposed to get themessage that I’m unique and special andChristopher Ryder,by God, and I should be proud of that?”

“I’ve never told Lash Hinkins that I’m a fan of his. RyanAdams, though…he’s pretty great. But so what?” Jesse took another long swallow.“I’d like to hear your songs, Chris. I have a feeling I’d like them.”

Chris.Christopher usuallyinsisted on his full name, but hearing the shortened version come from Jesse’smouth had felt like an intimacy, and not an unwelcome one.

“Thanks. You make me feel…like I might be willing to sharethem.”

Dinner arrived and they continued to talk and drink, withJesse calling the waitress back a few more times for new ciders. Christopherfelt loose and cheerful when Jesse finished eating and leaned back in hischair.

“At the risk of sounding like an ass, I have to tell you—you’rehella cute—and I’ve had more cider than I probably should, as evidenced by mesaying ‘hella cute.’” Jesse laughed. “But let’s get the hell out of here, so Ican do something about how damn cute you are.”

Christopher bit his lip, a wild rush of lust gripping hisgroin, and he reached for his wallet. “Message received. Suggestion accepted.”

“Good.” Jesse waved for Sarah.