In the small town of Bailey, country music, motorcycles, and reckless teenagers are the norm. Fallon Davis and Wesley Jones are no exception. That is, until Wesley disappears from Fallon's life when she needs him the most.
After losing everything important in her life, Fallon replaces her love for Wesley with hatred. Fifteen years later, Fallon has quit waiting on Wesley. She is ready to focus on her life, career, and friends at Backwoods until the unthinkable happens. Wesley rides back into town, and he quickly realizes Fallon wants nothing to do with him, but will he take no for an answer?
Will Wesley be able to win over Fallon, or will the memories of their past be too much for their future to handle?
“What can I get y’all boys?” I ask sweetly, still avoiding his eyes.
“We’ll take a round of SoCo for starters,” the chunky one states with a wink.
“Five SoCos, comin’ right up,” I say as I go to grab the shot glasses. Then I hear his raspy voice, and my body betrays me. Stop it! Don’t do that! Everything within my body comes alive with the sound of his voice.
“That’s four shots and a Coke,” Wesley states. I turn on my heels quickly.
“Coke? Are you sure?” I question, and he nods in agreement. “You want it in a shot glass, too?” I ask like the smart ass I’ve become over the years.
With a husky laugh, he answers, “Whatever you want to do, Pumpkin.” I stiffen at the name, but don’t turn around. I haven’t been called that since the day he rode away. After gathering myself together, I pour him a shot of Coke into a glass. He smiles when I place it in front of him.
“Come on, Pumpkin. Pour yourself one. I think me rollin’ back into town calls for a toast.” I roll my eyes, and then Paige hands me a shot glass of Coke. Raising my glass, I put one hand on my hip and wait for his toast. “Here’s to us, Pumpkin. Past, present, and future.” I clink my glass and when it touches my lips, I quickly realize it’s not Coke, but rather sweet cinnamon that burns the entire way down. I’m thankful to have Paige to count on when I need it most. Slamming down my shot glass when I finish, I turn and walk out of the bar and into the back room, holding myself together until I’m alone.
