Exclusive Excerpt from COME HOME TO ME by Liz Talley

Summer’s scent reached him–honeysuckle or some other sweet flower that bloomed on southern summer nights. “Just thinking about how quiet it was. Almost makes me uncomfortable.”

“Why are you here, Rhett?”

He turned to her. She stood with fists braced against the railing, the moonlight painting her in the same relief as the marsh. He couldn’t remember what color her eyes were, but they looked dark. Mysterious. The Summer he’d once known had been as obvious as red paint on a front door. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, so we’re going to do that, huh? Answer a question with a question?” A ghost smile materialized on her lips.

“Turnabout’s fair play. Or so they say.”

“I came back because there wasn’t a good reason not to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s all you’ll get. I’m not one of your Hollywood pets with secrets.”

“Pets? That’s harsh coming from someone like you,” Rhett said.

“You don’t know me anymore.”

“Or maybe I never did.”

She turned back to the night. “True.”

“You did Nashville?” Summer nodded. “It was harder than I thought. Yet somehow easier.”

“Again, cryptic.” He curled his fingers around the banister thinking about how true those words were for many things in life—easy yet hard. Some things were harder than others, though.

“I put Nashville on a pedestal, but I shouldn’t have. Anyone can go. Wasn’t hard to pack the car, get a place, or find someone who wants to make you a star. Unfortunately, the people who take advantage of dumb hicks in Nashville are a dime a dozen … as long as you pay ’em. Most are full of crap. I wasn’t willing to bow, scrape, or screw my way into success so…”

Rhett made a face. “Sounds like LA.”

“You had to screw a slimy record exec to get your job?” she asked.

“Almost. I did a lot of tap dancing. You can lose sense of who you are out there.” Maybe that was why he was in South Carolina. He needed to remember who he’d been. Try to get back that brash, cocky son of a bitch who’d blazed a path to stardom. Because right now he was tired.

“It wasn’t all bad. When I first got there, I got a recording contract. We went on the road. I drank champagne … until my manager made some bad decisions, ripping that bottle from my hand and smashing it on the ground. Not sure I ever recovered from the mismanagement of my career. It’s hard to have something and then watch it disappear.”

Felt insincere to agree with her. He’d been golden from the start. Lots of empty champagne bottles that someone else took away while he basked in the limelight. He’d been lucky. Didn’t mean he hadn’t worked hard for his success. There were many nights he never went to bed, many times he’d prostrated himself at the feet of power, many hours of worry, sweat, and pinned hopes. “But you’re not done.”

“I am for now. Sometimes dreams … change.”

“Why?”

“Because some things are more important.” Heaviness shaded her voice. Perhaps even defeat. He didn’t like to think of Summer as defeated. He remembered the way she’d played that guitar, how haunting her voice was. She turned to him. “My turn. What are you doing here?”

Rhett dropped his hands and stepped away. He eyed the Adirondack chairs that looked on the verge of collapse. The Nest needed some attention. Like an old warrior, it held too many scars and bruises. Perhaps Rhett should hire someone to make repairs and wield a paintbrush. Or maybe he could get his own hands a bit dirty. Once upon a time, he’d known how to swing a hammer and repair a simple engine. Occupying his hands would keep his mind from straying to things it shouldn’t. “I don’t know.”