Wylde Fire Read online

  "Yep. The magazine picked River Ridge this year—great for the town." Holly stepped under a white tent where circular tables were set up on a temporary wooden floor in an elegant reception style. She placed a box of centerpieces on the closest surface and began pulling the floral arrangements out one by one, one in the middle of each table.

  Sam began to do the same with his box, scanning the park while he worked. There was a stage and small booths with local artists selling fine jewelry and the like, as well as a white cloth-covered bar with glass stemware serving different wines to the crowd. It seemed like the crowd would migrate to the reception area for the sit-down event later, or so he guessed.

  Whoever had put this together was a pro—it had an air of ease and fun while still being polished and dignified. Clearly well-planned and organized down to the last detail, the person behind this event was exactly who he needed for the grand opening of Wyldefire Whiskey.

  Knowing his terrible luck, Sam wondered if it was Cassie's doing.

  "Sam Wylde, meet Amelia Eldridge." Holly pointed between him and a small brunette who'd just entered the tent with a rack of wineglasses.

  Amelia offered him a sad smile as she began arranging the plates and glasses on every table. "Sam Wylde needs no introductions in this town, Hol."

  Pity. There was no mistaking it in her voice, and Sam was becoming all too familiar with it lately.

  "That's what I told him." Holly laughed, apparently not noticing her friend's tone.

  Sam decided to stay civil. "It's good to see you, Amelia."

  "You, too," Amelia replied. "How are you doing? Tough weekend. You doing okay?"

  Sam swallowed the stab of humiliation that came with every reminder of his former girlfriend's upcoming nuptials this weekend—and there were a lot of reminders. In fact, Amelia was probably the fourth person to ask him about it just today in that same "poor Sam" pity-filled tone.

  Star pitcher falls in love with the lead actress of the senior play—the story wrote itself. They'd been so happy for so many years, and Sam had been certain she was his future. He was all in, but she…wasn't. Maybe she never had been.

  Even though it had been several years since their dramatic split, the entire town was still obsessed with the scandalous details. Hell, it had been quite the story.

  "I'll be fine," Sam informed her, his tone a bit sterner and the ease of his mood quickly dissipating. "It's not a big deal."

  "Really?" Amelia seemed oblivious at his attempt to end the conversation. "Man, I'd be a wreck if the love of my life was getting married to my younger brother in the biggest ceremony this town has ever seen."

  Holly's eyes grew wide as she turned from the table she was decorating and eyed the two of them. "Wow. That's…uh, well—"

  "She was not the love of my life," Sam countered a bit louder than he meant, then quickly bit his tongue. He wasn't going down this road. There was no chance he could talk about Grady and Jane's upcoming wedding without completely imploding.

  "Hey, Sam!" Bright pink hair bounded toward him as his younger cousin entered the tent holding up a phone. "Found you!"

  "Ruby?" A senior in high school, Ruby Wylde changed her hair color weekly and wore makeup so thick that he sometimes didn't recognize her. She was definitely still trying to figure herself out, but as the youngest in the family, she rested in a soft spot in Sam's heart. "What are you doing here?"

  "Noah called me," she explained, tossing her ponytail back over her shoulder. "He said you're not answering your phone."

  Sam rolled his eyes. "So, he sent his little sister to track me down? This family…" He bit back the curses he wanted to let loose and took the phone from her. Turning to Holly and Amelia, he offered a stiff smile. "Would you ladies excuse me a moment?"

  Holly nodded, turning away to give him privacy as she and Amelia began chatting with his cousin.

  Walking a few feet away, Sam lifted the phone to his ear. "Hey."

  "Sam, did you get the permits yet?" Noah's voice boomed through the line, almost like a roar but not gruff or hostile. Noah was just naturally excitable and lively, and spoke about everything with a gusto Sam never seemed to have. Possibly because Noah's life was focused on fun, while Sam's was piled high with responsibility. "We're about to light the rickyard up."

  The rickyard was where they burned sugar maple wood with whiskey in a giant bonfire to create a unique charcoal. They would later use the charcoal to slowly drip whiskey through during the distilling process. It was one of his favorite things—watching the flames demolish a giant stack of lumber only to be reborn into the very thing that made their whiskey so much better than any of their competitors.

  It was symbolic, it was dangerous, and somehow, it was beautiful.

  Creating something from nothing, Sam was more confident in their product every day. With only a few months left until the launch, he had to be. Or at least, he had been until today.

  "Not yet. Go ahead and light it without me," he said. "There's an event at River Ridge Park I'm checking out."

  "I heard. Ruby said you were fawning over some redhead. Just grab her number and bag her later. We've got shit to do."

  "Watch your mouth," Sam shot back, feeling his thin rope thinning even more. "It's your shit I'm cleaning up right now."

  "My shit?" Noah countered.

  "Cassie quit."

  There was silence from the other end of the line. Finally, a loud sigh. "Yeah, that's probably on me."

  "Probably?" Sam almost laughed at the insanity of it all. "Seriously, Noah?"

  "Okay! Definitely. It's definitely on me." Noah sounded as frustrated as Sam felt. "I should have seen that coming."

  That'd be a first, Sam thought. His cousin was selfish as hell, never considering how his actions impacted others.

  "Yeah, you should have. But you didn't, so I'm fixing it. This party looks like it was done by a pro, so I'm going to scope out the event planner and try to set up a meeting."

  "Good call."

  For some reason, Noah's approval only pissed Sam off more. "Goodbye, Noah."

  "Bye, Sa—" Noah started, but Sam clicked off the phone before he could finish.

  Shoving Ruby's phone into his pocket, Sam turned and walked back to the tent to talk to Holly. He hoped she'd know who put this event together because it seemed like she must be working for them.

  He needed to get back on track—stay focused, finish his errands, and find a new event coordinator immediately. There was no room in his life for personal distractions.

  But damn it if he wasn't…distracted.

  Chapter Two

  "I could definitely use the help, but the problem is I couldn't pay you," Holly told Ruby, placing the last centerpiece on its table.

  "That's fine," she replied, clapping her hands with excitement. "Honestly, the internship would look so great on my resume before college."

  "Have you decided where to apply yet? This is your senior year coming up, right?"

  The young girl nodded, pink hair swishing behind her as she helped position the plates on the table they were standing in front of. "Yep, my last year! I'm applying to some locals, some Ivy's. We'll see what happens since my goals are a little different than my dad's."

  Holly was trying to pay attention, but her eyes kept wandering past the tent to where Sam was finishing his phone call. He turned to stride back in her direction and she knew she should avert her gaze, but the way his broad shoulders pushed forward, his muscular arms barely contained by the plaid, collared shirt he was wearing held her attention. His gait long and steady, the man exuded purpose and command even in something so simple as how he walked.

  She remembered that signature walk—his slick, bare chest flexing as he ran around the track before baseball practice had always made her pulse quicken. Almost ten years later, his effect on her body still seemed to be the same. She'd thought it was impossible for him to be any more handsome than he'd been back then, but his now stubbled chin and smoky blue eyes with tin
y lines at the corners were darkened and experienced, like he'd earned every moment of his years. He'd been a boy the last time she'd seen him, but now? Sam was all man, and her body was certainly taking notice.

  Waves of heat rolled over Holly's face as a rush of varying emotions surged through her. She did not have time to be lusting after a man right now—especially a man as aggravating as Sam Wylde. If only that was as easy to do as it was to say.

  "Where'd Amelia go?" Sam asked as he reached them, wrapping an arm casually around his cousin's shoulder.

  Her attention snapped back to the table she was setting. "Grabbing more stemware from her car."

  He nodded, then slid a phone out of his pocket and handed it to his cousin. "Thanks, Ruby. Mind if I talk to Holly privately for a moment?"

  Privately? Her heart began to pound in her chest. Honestly, she could really only handle being around his level of hot for so long before she began drooling, and she wasn't about to be just another girl fawning over the town heartthrob.

  Ruby glanced between the two of them, her brow raised with suspicion. "Uh, sure. I've got to head back to Aunt Grace anyway."

  Sam frowned. "My mom is here?"

  "Yep." Ruby pointed toward the stage where his mother was addressing the crowd, wearing her Sunday best. "She's the liaison for the magazine. They did a feature on our ranch last year, and she's been working with them ever since."

  "Figures." His family was always front and center at any fancy event in the area.

  Ruby gave him a quick hug, said her goodbyes, and scurried off.

  "Don't worry—you've helped more than enough," Holly said over her shoulder, making her leave as well. "Thanks for carrying the boxes over with me."

  His fingers wrapped around her wrist, halting her escape. "Holly, wait."

  Heat shot through her directly to her core as she stopped and turned to face him. He didn't let go, and she was way too okay with that.

  "I had a question for you," he began, his gaze flickering to her wrist. He let go and cleared his throat, pushing his hands into his pockets. "Do you know who the event coordinator is for this?"

  "Oh, sure." She reached into the back pocket of her jean shorts, and grabbed a business card, handing it to him. "Here."

  Sam lifted the card to read it. "HG Events?"

  "Yep. HG, Holly Glen." She pointed to her own chest, then immediately regretted how awkward she probably looked.

  When she'd launched HG Events four years ago, she'd been in a booming Southern metropolis with the aid of her family and their connections. She'd done well—really well—and hosted events she could only ever dream of. It was the job she'd always wanted, and everything she'd hoped for.

  All of that was gone now—her family, her money, her lifestyle—and she'd returned to her hometown for refuge…and maybe healing. It wasn't her choice, but she was trying to make the best of it.

  Sam's eyes widened. "You put all this together? With the magazine?"

  "And you sound surprised," she quipped, not appreciating his shocked tone. "Did you think 'parking spot thief' was my sole talent?"

  "I have no doubt your talents are numerous," he teased, his smirk seeming to dare. "But, in all seriousness, I'm in a bind and need your help. We—my cousin, Noah, our investor, Caleb, and myself—are throwing a huge launch party in Nashville in three months for the grand opening of our company, Wyldefire Whiskey. I want you to plan it."

  Holly's professional interest was officially piqued. "Three months? Are you serious? That's too short notice."

  "Believe me, I know." He rubbed the back of his neck, a strained look on his face as stress seemed to get the better of him. "We had an event planner, and due to some…unfortunate…circumstances, she quit."

  "Wow." Holly had never bailed on a project, and certainly wouldn't dream of doing so this close to the launch date. "That's tough, but not impossible. We can pick up where she left off."

  "That's the other problem. She's taking all her vendors and connections with her. We were prepped for a glitzy, high-end party in a big ballroom in a Nashville hotel with A-list guests, but at this point, I think she'll make us start from scratch."

  Holly's brow furrowed. That was very unusual. Someone must have really pissed her off. "What are you not telling me, Sam? This story has a million red flags, and I don't do anything half-baked."

  His chin dipped, glancing down at the floor, before turning stormy eyes back to her. "She had a thing going with my cousin that didn't end well."

  "Oh! Cassie and Noah?" Holly had heard about their big blow-up at a local tavern last night. Very public and very exciting for a small town that loved rumors. "Everyone's been talking about that today."

  Sam rubbed his hand over his face this time, groaning. "Of course, they have."

  Holly frowned, then tentatively reached over and rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry. That's…well, it's awful, but we can make it work."

  He didn't pull away, instead, closed his hand over hers. "If you're as good as today suggests, we'd pay triple your normal rate. I know it'll be a hell of a job, and I know it might not be what we envisioned because of the rush, but I need you, Holly."

  Holly's mouth went bone dry as she forgot everything he'd said before I need you, Holly. The way his blue eyes pierced through her—pleading, wanting, telling—made her entire body respond, her pulse quickening in her veins.

  His fingers wrapped around hers like he was afraid she might run away.

  "Holly?" Sam repeated. "What do you say?"

  Realizing she'd gone strangely silent, Holly nodded her head and pushed away every ridiculous fantasy her former teen crush was conjuring in her. "Sure. I'll do it, but you don't need to pay me more than my usual rate."

  She wanted to steal the words back the second they fell out of her mouth. What did I just say? Of course, she wanted triple pay. She needed it, actually. The difference that would make in her life—in her sister's life—was astronomical.

  "Not negotiable," Sam replied, shaking his head. "Triple pay."

  Thank God. A smile returned to her lips. "Well, if you insist."

  Sam laughed, tipping his head back and bellowing from his gut. It was infectious, and she found herself laughing, too. Hers was smaller, more of a giggle, but she loved the lightness she had yet to see in him today.

  If she was going to do this, however, it would be on her terms. He'd just have to be okay with it, because as much as her body was running the show right now, she wasn't going to let that affect her career. She was great at her job, and he wasn't going to get in her way. "But, I have some conditions."

  His laughter died down, the corners of his mouth tightening as he drew his brows together. "Am I going to like them?"

  "First, you need to let me do my thing. No arguments. You can't be your usual butthead."

  Sam put a hand on his chest, as if dismayed, but the startled laughter in his eyes was unmistakable. "Since when am I a butthead?"

  "Since birth, I'm guessing," Holly laid the snark on thick, letting him know she was both serious and teasing. She could have used more choice words, but since he was her client now, it wouldn't do to cuss in front of him. "Can you handle that?"

  He nodded his head. "Fine. Fine. I'll try to keep the butthead at bay. What's the second condition?"

  "That's it. I think you'll have a hard enough time just following the one." She gave him a faux innocent look, like she hadn't just insulted him to his face.

  "I can't imagine how I missed a charmer like you in high school," he joked. "Though I'm not sure my ego could have handled you back then."

  "Youth is wasted on the young." Looping her arm around his elbow, Holly pulled him in the direction of her car to collect the paperwork. Purely professional, of course. "Let's grab a contract for you to look over."

  Sam pinned her arm against his side, holding it there so they walked arm-in-arm through the crowds back to the parking lot. Holly didn't miss the glances from fellow townsfolk who noticed the intimate embrace, but s
he didn't care. He was her boss now. Totally innocent. Totally platonic.

  Totally…screwed.

  Chapter Three

  "Ugh, that was horrendous," Holly said to Amelia, exhaling loudly as she slid into the back tent they were using as their command center. "Someone found a Band-Aid in their sorbet."

  "What!" Amelia looked up in alarm. "Are you serious?"

  Holly nodded. "Yeah, but it was hers. From her own finger. She apparently forgot until mid-complaint."

  Amelia snorted, chuckling slightly. "It sucks being the boss sometimes."

  "It has its downsides," Holly admitted, sitting on a nearby stool and propping her elbows on her knees for a quick break. She'd worked hard to put this event together for Southern Lifestyle Magazine, and was admittedly proud of her work. When she'd launched HG Events four years ago, she'd been in a booming Southern metropolis with the aid of her family and their connections. She'd done well—really well—and hosted events she could only ever dream of. Things had slid steeply since then and she was slowly starting to rebuild. This opportunity coming her way was a big deal.

  Turning to Holly, Amelia frowned. "Wait…where'd Sam go?"

  "He said he had to run after we signed the contract, but to tell you goodbye," Holly replied.

  Amelia clicked her tongue. "You and I need to talk."

  Holly immediately felt her cheeks redden. "What is there to talk about?" Holly tried to play dumb.

  "Don't what me, Holly Marie Glen." Amelia lifted her index finger. "You've been in love with Sam since freshman year of high school, and you just casually bring him back to this job like you two are old friends? Then take a job from him?"

  "I know, but he never even gave me a second glance back then," Holly reminded her friend. She was extremely shy in high school, had been more into art than sports, and their paths rarely crossed. It wasn't unusual that she'd have flown under his radar. That didn't stop her from ogling over him during pep rallies or from the bleachers during batting practice since he was the school's star pitcher.