Tennessee tinsel, p.1
Tennessee Tinsel, page 1
Tennessee Tinsel
Bethany Strobel
Tennessee Tinsel
Copyright © 2017 by Bethany Strobel
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the publisher or author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons – living or dead – and any events or locals used is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and punishable by up to five years in prison with a fine of up to $250,000.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
The End, XoXo
Chasing Mountains: A Country Roads Romance Book 2
Chapter 1
That’s me, just there, the girl in the white jacket and fluffy white snow-cap, posing in the shotgun wedding photo. Yep. Dark-brown, curly hair, post-adolescent freckles that refuse to fade, and all. My name is Jillian Turner.
Who’s that tall, sandy-blonde stud standing next to me in the photo, sliding a ring on my finger? That’s my brother’s best friend, Jax McKay, my arch rival. We’ve hated each other since we were five when he tried to steal a kiss, and I punched him in his cute button nose.
I bet you’re wondering how we got to this point, because I assure you, I am too. I guess it all started about a few days ago.
***
“Mama come on. I wanna get there before it starts snowing. You know I don’t like to drive in the mountains with the messy roads.”
I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for my mother to check that every last light in the house is off and the note for the animal sitter is clearly visible on the kitchen island, for the tenth time.
“Just a minute, Jillian. I just know I’m forgetting something.”
I fold my arms across my chest and raise my head, looking towards heaven, pleading with Jesus to make my mama hurry. When her cell phone jingles a merry little Christmas tune from the black depths of her pocketbook, I know Jesus isn’t on my side, and neither is luck for that matter. She finally finds the silly thing, and holds it up to her ear, yelling into the phone.
“Hello?”
“Oh, It’s Francis McKay,” she says to me.
I roll my eyes when she turns her back on me to continue her conversation.
“Oh, goodie, Francis McKay!”
The sarcasm in my tone of voice isn’t lost in the twelve feet that separate us, and twenty-two years old or not, mama still turns around to fix me with that southern mama stare. You know, the one that says, ‘I know what you’re doing, young lady, and you had better stop right now, or else...’
I wiggle my eyebrows at her, letting her know I’m just teasin’ and give her the fakest smile I can muster. See, Mrs. Francis McKay is Jax’s mother. And I can’t stand Jax. I turn around, so mama can’t see the annoyed look on my face. I’m pretty frustrated that she invited Francis, because Francis invited her son. Of course, my older brother—by twelve minutes – Gibson, is bound to be ecstatic by the news.
Every year for Christmas, we rent a cabin in the Smoky Mountains in this tiny little tourist town called Gatlinburg. I love the tradition. Especially since Gibson and I went away to two different colleges, and we are half way across the country from each other for the better part of the year. I guess if I have to, I can put up with Jax McKay for a few days. Besides, this year I invited my friend Aimee. We won’t even have to deal with the boys. They’ll be off terrorizing the town, and Aimee and I will be shopping.
“Come on mom,” I say, knowing she won’t listen.
“Oh, honey, why don’t you go on ahead. It looks like Francis needs a ride, and your father will be home any minute now. We’ll just ride with him.” I give her a blank look.
She made me wait for hours just so she could flake out on me and grab a ride with my dad? Seriously?
“I’ll need you to unlock the cabin and let Jax in. Francis said he jumped the gun on her and left a few hours ago.”
“Great.” Exactly what I wanted to do, you know, beat the snow by leaving a few hours ago.
I grab the keys off the island, kiss mama on the cheek, and hurry to the door.
“Be careful,” I say and turn to leave.
“Bye, honey, I love you. Give my best to Jax.” My mother’s words fade as I let the screen door slam behind me.
“Dang-it, mama!” I pull my cell from my pocket and dial Aimee and continue off the front porch and down the path to my car. “Come on Aimee, answer.”
The unanswered ringtone plays in my ear as I wrestle the phone with my shoulder and search my jean’s pockets for my keys. Finally, I give up and stuff the phone into my back pocket and unlock my car. If Aimee isn’t there by the time I get there, I’ll be forced to “entertain” Jax on my own, and I cringe at the notation of being alone with him.
The hour and thirty-six-minute drive from the North Georgia Mountains up into Tennessee is uneventful, and I’m glad it hasn’t started snowing yet. The drive has certainly given me plenty of time to prepare my nerves for handling Jax. I take a deep breath, feeling like I’m ready to weather the storm, as mama calls it. About twenty minutes from the cabin, my cell rings, and I very carefully pick it up and answer it.
“Yea?” I say. Short and sweet.
“Hey, Jillian, where are you?” The sound of Aimee’s voice is like music to my ears, and I get excited as I wonder if she’s already made it to the cabin.
“Aimee, I’m still driving. Where are you?” I ask.
“I left about thirty minutes ago. I thought you were going to call me first.” She sounds hurt.
“I called, girl, but mama made me go ahead, because Jax is already at the cabin, and he needs someone to let him in.”
Silence.
“Aimee?”
“Jax is gonna be there?” she asks.
“What? I told you mama invited the McKays. Jax is a McKay, therefore Jax is coming.” My tone is kind-of pissy, and I feel bad. It’s not my friend’s fault.
“Well, at least you’ll have a cute cowboy to keep you company until we all get there,” she teases.
“Shut your face, Aimee.”
Jax is going to school somewhere in Montana, and he seems to think that living there for a few years qualifies him as a certified cowboy. Giddy-up! I roll my eyes, even though there isn’t anyone here to see the wasted effort.
“Oh man! It’s starting to snow!” Aimee’s phone-line crackles.
“Where are you?” I ask, concerned for my friend.
“Just outside of Knoxville. Where are you?” she asks.
“I’m about ten minutes from the cabin. Listen, Aimee, if the snow gets worse stop in Knoxville. Don’t try to cross the gorge.”
“Why Jillian, it sounds like you’re fishing for time alone with the cowboy,” she teases.
“God, Aimee, knock it off. I’m serious. Don’t kill yourself to get here, and get off your phone. Love ya, bye.” I don’t wait for her to answer before I hang up. She needs to focus on the road.
I look back heavenward. “You really don’t like me today, do you?” I ask and groan aloud at my misfortune.
Chapter 2
As I pull around the last curve of the one-lane, dirt road that leads to the cabin, the site of a long torso sprawled over the hood and windshield of and old Charger, complete with plaid shirt, dark blue jeans, and cowboy hat slung low over his face and shielding his eyes from the bright afternoon sun, comes into view. Yep, I have the answer to Aimee's question; Jax McKay still thinks he’s a cowboy. I wonder if he’s asleep and very briefly think about honking the horn to wake him up. That could be fun.
But, I’m not malicious, so, however fun it might have been, I pass on the thought. Instead, I roll down my window and stop right beside his car.
“You didn’t have to take up the entire parking pad,” I holler at him.
“Freckles!” he says, taking off his cowboy hat and gracing me with a brilliant smile. “I was just saving you a spot.” He slides down the hood of his car and jumps in the open window, revving his engine to life.
I bet they taught him that move in cowboy school, I think with a smirk. True to his word he moves his car out of the way. I know it’s a one lane road, though, so it’s going to take him a few minutes to get to the next turn around spot and come back. I decide to park beside the parking pad, so mom and dad can have the best spot, and I grab the cabin key from the empty front seat beside me and open my door. It takes me a few minutes to register the dinging sound my car is making and for me to muster up enough courage to go through with the plan.
He’s already called me freckles, and he knows it’s a soft spot for me. Clearly nothing about Jax McKay had changed in the last year since I’d seen him. What kind of cowboy drives a Charger anyways? I’m certain they all drive Chevys or pickup trucks, or something. I can hear the sound of his muscle car as he nears the cabin, and I jingle the keys in the lock trying to get the door open. That’s odd. The key feels stuck.
“What’s a matter, Freckles? Can’t get the door open?”
I shoot him a go-to-hell look over my shoulder.
“Here, let me try.” He's standing so close to me I can feel his breath on my neck as he leans over, trying to see the door knob.
“Really?” I elbow him softly in the ribs. “Back off.”
He grabs the knob, his large hand fitting perfectly over my much smaller hand, and the heat from his touch sends me scrambling backwards and dropping the keys in my haste.
“What’s got you spooked?” he laughs and bends to grab the keys from the porch.
“Nothing,” I say. “I just forgot my purse in the car.” Lame-O.
He shrugs.
“Oh. There we go. I got it.” He uses his broad shoulder to shove the door open, and I wonder when he filled out so well.
He’d always had that pretty-boy face that could get him any cheerleader he wanted in school, but he’d also been on the lean side. Now, standing back from him, I notice how full his plaid shirt sleeves are, and the tight curve of his butt through the form fitting pants, and I fill in the blanks with my imagination. What the hell am I doing? I almost smack myself as I walk back to the car to get my purse. The last thing I need is him teasing me because I can’t remember what I'm doing. I can only imagine the names he would come up with for that one.
By the time I grab my deadweight of a bag and cross the threshold to the cabin, he’s nowhere to be found. I look around, not really in awe since we rent this cabin a lot, but still pleased by the cozy feel of it. The rental company has decorated it for Christmas, and the live tree with lights and bright red ornaments sparkles cheerfully from the corner of the pine and rustic living room. Someone has turned the small pullout couch at an angel, facing the fireplace, which has also strategically been lit for our arrival.
I know there is a small hallway with two bedrooms, one with a master bath, and second bathroom just to the right of the large central room that houses the living room, the kitchen, and the stairs. My gaze travels across the hardwood floors and up to the table that sits just outside the open kitchen. A red and green plaid tablecloth and a beautiful pine-cone and triple-candle centerpiece help instill the holiday cheer.
“Hey, Freckles, you gotta check this out.” I hear Jax yell from the loft, and my gaze travels up the stairs to the top in time to see him leaning so far over the railing I think he might fall.
“Seen it,” I holler back, in an unimpressed tone.
“No, really, get your butt up here, Freckles.” He’s already left the rail, and I don’t feel like shouting again, so I toss my heavy bag on the table-cloth clade table and head up the stairs.
I suppose I’ll have to be somewhat nice to him. My mom will be deeply offended if I’m rude and he complains. With the thought that I’ve seen it before, I top the stairs unenthusiastically, but my eyes widen at the sight before me. The rental company has added a pool table. All right! Game on. I love pool. Jax is already racking the balls, and I smile at his enthusiasm.
“Wanna play?” he says but doesn’t look up.
“Does a fat kid love cake?” I counter.
“Honestly, Jillian, you’re not fat. I don’t know why you always reference yourself like that.”
I’m floored by his statement. He’s never spoken to me like that before, and I can’t figure out if that’s why I’m stunned or if it’s because I really was referring to myself subconsciously and he picked up on. I know I’m not “fat” but at five-feet-five-inches a curvy size ten is a lot bigger than all the girls my brother has ever brought home, and I’m bigger than most of my college friends.
“I wasn’t talking about myself, Cowboy,” I lie, hoping my voice sounds stable.
He chuckles in response.
“Now we’ve resorted to name calling?” he asks, looking up.
My gaze locks with his momentarily, and I hastily look away.
“You have a nickname for me. Why can’t I give you one?” I toss him what I hope is a saucy look. Ohmygod, am I flirting with him? What is wrong with me?
“Why Cowboy?” His question catches me off guard.
At some point he had picked up a pool stick, and he’s now standing against the pool table, with his legs crossed at the ankles and pointy-toed boots poking out from beneath his sexy blue jeans. My gaze travels higher to his big belt buckle, nicely tucked in plaid shirt, and all the way up to his four-o’clock shadow, and his wide brimmed cowboy hat. Yea. I don’t know why I call him Cowboy. I roll my eyes at his question instead of answering him and grab a pool stick from the wall mount. He may be a real cowboy now, but I can still kick his ass at pool, and I plan to prove it.
“Got a quarter?” I ask.
“What for?” he says.
“To see who goes first.” I give him a what-the-hell look when I find him checking me out.
No, really. What-the-hell? We seem to be wading through a lot of new territory.
“Ladies first, I insist.” He swipes his arm towards the table in an informal and slightly awkward bow, and I shake my head as I lean forward to break. “Hey, hold that thought.”
I pause and give him an odd look as he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a phone that I didn’t hear ring. I’m about to comment, when my phone goes off too. I ignore the weirdness of it and answer my phone. It’s Aimee, and I can’t believe my ears as she is excitedly telling me about a huge car wreck in the snow storm, and now she’s stuck just outside of Knoxville, and there’s no way she can drive through the gorge in these conditions. I hang my head in defeat as I listen to her. When she finally hangs up after saying goodbye like five times, I look at Jax expecting bad news from him too.
He nods at me.
“The ‘rents aren’t even gonna try to drive it until tomorrow, when it warms up. Looks like it’s just you and me, Freckles.” His words confirm my suspicion, because I already know that Gibson is stuck in Kentucky and can’t drive over the mountain.
It’s just us.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” he says loudly, and for added measure his stomach rumbles, proving his point.
“Yah. I guess I could cook something.” I stop my trek to the stairs and smack my forehead. “Nope. Mom has all the food with her.”
“I brought beer,” he pitches in.
I laugh at him, and we start down the stairs together, the pool game forgotten on our quest for food.
“We should definitely grab something before the storm gets worse,” he says.
“Well, there’s a Mellow Mushroom just down at the end of the road and across the street. We can drive down, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to drive back up the hill. We may be walking.”
“Walking is good.”
I laugh again. Walking is fine, unless you are trying to walk up a huge hill in a snow storm.
“Come on.” I grab my purse and keys, and we head out the door.
Chapter 3
I don’t want to tell Jax that the car slid all the way down the hill, and there is no way we are getting back up it. He seems in good spirits, and he hasn’t called me Freckles in a while, so I pass on sharing the information. The town looks amazing at night when it snows. The millions of Christmas lights shine off the wet roads and make the snow sparkle on the sidewalks. The beauty of this place makes me smile as I think about the little town which consists of a long strip of road nestled in between two mountains. The strip is packed with door to door shops, tourist attractions, mini-golf courses, rides, museums, and restaurants. My olfactory sensors are approaching overload, as I take in the scents of homemade taffy, espresso, and all kinds of savory smelling food dishes like bratwurst and popcorn.
Jax and I round the corner by the Ripley’s museum, and suddenly a guy in a large werewolf costume jumps out in front of me. I’m thrown off balance, as he startles me, and I lose my footing on the slick sidewalk. I feel myself going down and brace for impact. But I never hit the ground. Instead, Jax springs into motion, and I feel the strength of his muscled arms as he catches me. Suddenly, I’m hot despite the cold of the snowy night, and I can feel the burn in my face as flames of embarrassment fuel my blush. Jax eyes me with a concerned look.
