Page 4 of Sweet Obsession (Honeysuckle, Texas #5)

Jillian scraped the last bit of ice cream from her bowl, the sweet apple and cinnamon lingering on her tongue.

Mrs. Kirby’s pies were legendary in Honeysuckle, and this one lived up to the reputation.

Across from her, Blake watched his grandmother with an intensity that reminded her of a hawk tracking its prey—alert, focused, and missing nothing.

“Blake, dear, you’ve hardly touched your pie.” Mrs. Kirby gestured to his barely eaten slice. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone Hollywood on me with some fancy diet.”

“No, ma’am.” Blake smiled, though Jillian noticed it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just enjoying the conversation.”

Pushing to her feet, Mrs. Kirby collected her and Jillian’s empty bowls and fixed her grandson with a look that was pure, unfiltered affection.

“I’ll clean up while you finish your pie.

Then I’ll head upstairs quick and straighten out your old room.

Won’t take me long to move a few things out of the way and get fresh linens. ”

Blake glanced at Jillian, a silent confirmation passing between them. “Actually, Grams, you don’t have to go to any trouble for me. I’m going to stay at the Sweet Ranch.”

A bowl in each hand, Mrs. Kirby blinked at her grandson.

“The ranch? Well,” a pensive glare shifted to a wide smile, “what a nice idea. You and Kade can catch up properly. It’ll be just like old times.

Just don’t go getting into any mischief.

You’re grown men now.” Sara Kirby turned on her heel and scurried into the kitchen.

Blake flinched, his own smile tightening at the edges.

His grandmother had momentarily slipped, her timeline blurring the years.

Kade hadn’t been around to get into mischief with Blake for a very long time.

It was a small slip, the kind anyone could make, but in this context, it felt like a crack appearing in a perfectly polished veneer, revealing the fragility beneath.

His jaw slightly agape, Blake’s gaze met hers. “I’m not imagining it.”

Even though it wasn’t really a question, she shook her head. “If Kade being in the military was a recent change, I might think it had slipped her mind, but he’s been gone as long as you have.”

“I know.” His gaze on the kitchen door, he leaned back and sighed. “That’s what’s scaring me.”

“I need to get back to the store before someone thinks I’ve been kidnapped by aliens. I assume you have a car?” Jillian asked.

He nodded. “Rented it at the airport. Parked it around the corner.”

“All right. Let me get back to work, let Carol know I’m going home early, and I’ll come back and get you.

I don’t think we want a repeat of you lurking through the streets like a common prowler.

” She hurried over to the kitchen doorway and leaned in.

“Mrs. Kirby, thank you so much for the pie. It was delicious. But I should be getting back to my shop.”

“Of course, dear. Don’t be a stranger.” Sara Kirby left the dishes on the counter and turned to wrap Jillian in a surprisingly strong, lilac-scented hug. “And thank you for looking out for me, even if you were a little overzealous about it.”

Sharp Mrs. Kirby was back front and center. If the situation weren’t so alarming, Jillian might have found the shift funny.

She left Blake on the porch, turning back once to see him leaning against the railing, looking for all the world like the boy she used to know, just with broader shoulders and a heavier weight on them.

Jillian hurried down the street toward Heaven Scent, her mind racing faster than her feet.

Holy cow. Was she really about to drive Blake Kirby to his car and then lead him back to her family’s ranch?

Was this really happening? Blake Kirby, the boy from her youth, the rock star from her daydreams, was going to be staying at her house.

The whole situation felt insanely surreal.

Shoving open the door to Heaven Scent, she momentarily wondered if this wasn’t all a dream.

Any second now, her alarm would go off and she’d awaken to the realization that chores needed to be done and Blake Kirby was somewhere else in the world making music that made women swoon.

Pulling her car up a few minutes later, seeing none other than the one and only Blake Kirby standing in the doorway of his grandmother’s house told her if this was a dream—it was a lulu.

Spotting her at the curb, he popped his head inside, hugged his grandmother, hurried down the front steps and jumped into her car with the speed and tension of a man who had just robbed a bank.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t quit your day job.” She pulled away from the curb but saw his brows buckle in confusion before an honest grin took over his face and low rumble of laughter escaped his chest.

“I guess I would make an awful cat burglar.”

“The worst.” Jillian smiled. “I mean, who wears a hoodie in ninety-degree heat? You might as well have worn a sign that said, ‘Suspicious Character.’”

His laugh was deeper this time, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he pointed down the street. “Black SUV is mine.”

Her brow lifted and she shook her head. “Really? You couldn’t find something a little more conspicuous?”

Looking meek, the man smiled and shrugged. “They didn’t have any pick-up trucks available.”

At least he still remembered what most people drove in this part of the state. Pulling up beside the vehicle, she watched him slip from her car into his, then waited for him to pull out behind her before she stepped on the gas. If this wasn’t a dream, life was about to get very, very interesting.

Blake’s rental bounced over the cattle guard, the metallic rumble sending a rush of nostalgia through him.

Following Jillian Sweet’s car up the long gravel drive felt like coming home.

The sprawling ranch house came into view, just as he remembered—a welcoming fortress of stone and timber against the vast Texas terrain.

He cut the engine of the SUV, the silence that followed amplifying the sudden thud of his own heart.

Jillian was already out of her car, waiting for him by the porch steps.

She looked small against the backdrop of the massive house, but there was a steadiness in her stance, an easy confidence he didn’t remember.

Of course, the last time he’d really seen her, she’d been a scrawny kid with a talent for being underfoot whenever Kade had friends over.

Before he could join her, the front door swung open and Alice Sweet bustled onto the porch, wiping her hands on her apron.

Her smile was as wide and warm as he remembered. “Blake Kirby? Is that really you?” Before he could say a word, she was off the front porch, standing in front of him, and pulling him into a tight bear hug.

Instantly, the stardom, the tour buses, the screaming crowds, all of it faded away. Now he was simply Blake Kirby, Kade’s best friend, standing in the front yard of his second home.

“Took you long enough to remember where you belong.” Alice Sweet took a half step in retreat, her eyes twinkling, her tone a perfect blend of sweet welcome and gentle scolding.

“Sorry, ma’am.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, or meant anything more sincerely. He should have come back sooner. Shouldn’t have hidden away.

“It is so good to see you, son. But you’re too thin.”

He laughed. A real, unforced sound. “It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Sweet. And I promise, I’m eating.”

Alice Sweet’s gaze shifted to her daughter, then back to him. Linking elbows with him, she began walking toward the house. “Let’s go inside and then you can tell me what brings you here after all these years.”

Jillian fell into step beside her mother. “Blake’s here for his grandmother.”

“Sara?” Mrs. Sweet’s step halted. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Blake pulled his arm from hers and opened the screen door.

“That’s why he’s here.” As they walked to the kitchen, Jillian brought her mother up to date on Blake’s concerns.

Taking a seat at the familiar kitchen table, the same one that had been here since he was a kid, he filled in the details for his best friend’s mother.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Mrs. Sweet’s expression softened instantly with motherly concern.

“Jillian did the right thing. Of course, you’ll stay here.

We have plenty of room. But I wouldn’t hold my breath on keeping you a secret for long.

” She held her hand up. “Don’t get me wrong, we’ll do our best, but eventually, someone is bound to recognize you coming and going from your grandmother’s house. ”

He knew she was right, but he just couldn’t deal with the small-town grapevine and any media bedlam that would follow once word got out that he was in town without stone walls and iron gates to keep him safe. “Which is why I thought I’d wait till after dark to go talk to Mom and Dad.”

Alice shook her head. “You’d need more than the cover of night to hide from the grapevine. I’ll call Betty and have them come here for dinner tonight.”

It wasn’t a question or even a suggestion. As sure as he knew his last album had topped the country rock charts, he knew that his parents would be sitting at the Sweet dining room table tonight.

“Supper’s already started. I’ll just head upstairs and get your room ready.”

“I’ll help.” Jillian pushed to her feet.

“No.” Alice shook her head. “This isn’t a two-person job.” She scurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaving Blake and Jillian in the sudden quiet of the late afternoon.

“Your mom is one of a kind.”

“She is.” A soft smile touched Jillian’s lips. She gestured toward the back of the house. “It’ll be a bit before everyone straggles in from their day. I’ll pour us a couple of drinks and we can sit out on the back porch.”

A sudden memory of Alice Sweet’s strawberry lemonade made his mouth water. “Lemonade?”

Jillian giggled, much like she did when she was only ten years old, but there was no doubt in his mind she was far from a little girl now. “Two strawberry lemonades coming up.”

The drinks poured, each with a glass in hand, he followed her out the door to the sprawling back porch.

He remembered this place. This was where the real heart of the Sweet family always seemed to beat.

He sank onto one of the many rockers on the massive porch, the familiar creak of the wooden seats a sound straight from his youth.

Jillian took the seat beside him, pushing off gently with her feet. For a long moment, they were quiet; the only sound a distant lowing of cattle.

“I remember you and Rachel used to sit on those steps right there and watch us boys play football for hours.”

She laughed, a light, musical sound. “From where we sat, you all just looked more like a chaotic pile of arms and legs rather than an organized game with rules and regulations.” Turning her head, her gaze met his. “So, now what do you plan to do about your grandmother?”

The question brought the weight of the day rushing back.

“I’ve spoken with a band member whose mother had dementia.

She’ll need some basic tests done first. I’ve got a list of the best neurologists in the county.

I’d prefer to take her to UT Southwestern but I know better than to think she’d be willing to go all the way to Dallas if she doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with her. ”

She nodded, her expression full of an empathy that felt like a balm on a raw wound, when unexpectedly a hint of a smile teased at one corner of her mouth.

“I don’t suppose you’ve considered slipping her a mickey, because I don’t think there will be any other way to get her to any doctor, never mind a specialist.”

It shouldn’t have been funny, and yet, it was.

His grandmother’s feistiness was one of the things that he’d always loved about that old woman.

He had no idea what was going to happen next, but there was one thing he was most definitely sure of, coming here had been the right thing to do—and maybe slipping his grandmother a mickey wasn’t such a bad idea either.