Fireflies and Magnolias Read online

  ~ Dare River ~

  Amelia Ann & Clayton

  © 2015 Ava Miles

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  Amelia Ann Hollins might have been raised to be a sweet magnolia, but she’s found her inner fire—the quest for justice. The secrets she carries and a tragedy from her past prompt her to volunteer at a legal clinic in the worst part of town. Here she can serve and protect the one she couldn’t save. Here she will risk everything.

  Clayton Chandler’s happy life ended when his daddy died tragically when he was a boy. He lost his belief in magic and signs, but Amelia Ann is stirring the embers of passion and faith inside him again. He doesn’t plan on risking his heart. To make matters worse, he works for her rock star brother and knows better than to date the younger sister of his best friend.

  When Amelia Ann volunteers to help with her brother’s charity concert, Clayton has nowhere to run. Soon he can no longer deny his fiery passion for Amelia Ann, and as the danger of her calling and her secrets threaten their newfound love, they’ll learn fireflies are magical and magnolias can burn hotter than steel.

  To my dear friend, Jai, who helped me remember the power of true love and vulnerability and has shared with me many times the sheer joy of sitting on a tree overlooking the river as our feet dangled in freedom.

  And to my divine entourage, who is always guiding me to remember the treasures of love inside and around me.

  Acknowledgements

  Team Ava continues to be a blessing from above, especially Sienna for being my girl Friday in everything needed; Greg for the amazing covers; Angela for being the best editor I could have hoped for; and Leah and Beth for their eagle eyes.

  Tracy Davis at Bread for the City, managing attorney and lead of their domestic violence group, who shared her insights on legal aid to domestic violence victims and so much more.

  T.F. For heeding the call and arriving right on time.

  All my beloved readers who love these characters as much as I do, re-read the books, spread the word to at least twenty friends, and send me little notes about how my books help them laugh or comfort them when a loved one passes away or a marriage ends. I am so happy you are part of our beautiful Dare family.

  Chapter 1

  The ability to plan was one of Amelia Ann Hollins’ finest traits if she did say so herself. Before, she’d hated the flummery of the ladies’ teas she’d labored to create at her mama’s command. Now, she used all her skills to create what she wanted. Today she was going to catch a prize trout, the size of which would have won her Meade, Mississippi’s Annual Trout Competition.

  “Rye darlin’, I wanted to speak with y’all about some ideas I have for your charity concert,” she said with more sugar in her Southern drawl than a glass of sweet tea.

  She and her brother, country music superstar Rye Crenshaw, weren’t alone in his office. His deputy manager and best friend, Clayton Chandler, was there at Rye’s request, and he responded to her words with a sharp glance. His gray eyes were as stormy as the Tennessee clouds outside, and one look at them turned her knees week.

  Even angry, Clayton was the handsomest man she’d ever met. His white cowboy hat concealed the jet-black hair she’d fantasized about running her hands through, and his jeans and simple white shirt hugged a muscular frame that made her salivate.

  “I have everything under control,” Clayton said, sitting on the edge of her brother’s desk in his home office.

  Control.

  If men came with signs to warn away unsuspecting women, control would be the word flashing in bold red letters over Clayton’s head. She’d been battling his control since she’d first batted her eyelashes at him five months ago at Rye’s wedding and asked him to dance—an offer he’d refused like the gentleman he wasn’t. It had only made her more determined to have him. And he darn well knew it.

  “I know you have everything in hand, Clayton, but let’s hear her out,” Rye said, sitting back in his leather office chair.

  The concert would raise awareness and funds for victims of domestic violence, a cause that had become all too personal to their family after they had learned the truth about their sister Tammy’s abusive ex-husband.

  “Rye, I don’t know how much you’ve thought about how to raise awareness around this topic during the concert,” she said, “but I thought it might be nice to feature a few women’s stories about overcoming domestic violence. It would make the cause feel more real for your fans. I’d like to offer my help. As part of a class project, I looked into legal services for women who are in Tammy’s position. I could contact the heads of Nashville’s leading women’s shelters for their suggestions.”

  That’s how she’d discovered Community Legal Clinic, though they didn’t have to know that. Not yet, anyway.

  Her volunteer job at the clinic couldn’t be more different from her summer internship at the swanky law firm of Kelly, Prentice & Stacks. There, she’d had a pristine cubicle in an office decorated with Carrara marble floors, gleaming hardwood doors, and shiny brass elevators.

  At her new job, she shared a battered desk in an open room where all the attending lawyers worked amidst the ringing of phones and the buzz of one another’s conversations. There were no fancy coffee makers or catered lunches from exclusive downtown restaurants. No, she had to bring her lunch because it felt too dangerous to eat at the nearby diner covered in graffiti.

  “Once the women are selected,” she continued, “you could hire a professional crew to shoot the spots. They could be played on the big stadium screens.” She wrung her hands as she waited for his response, not daring to glance at Clayton. “What do you think?”

  The concert was scheduled for the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, just over two months away, and they were expecting a record attendance at Nashville’s biggest concert venue. Rye had asked Jake Lassiter, one of his country music friends who’d just moved to Dare River, to open his act. The tickets had sold out two hours after going on sale.

  Rye stroked his chin. “I hadn’t thought beyond the line-up and the songs yet, Amelia Ann, but I like your idea. It humanizes the cause we’re supporting and raises awareness in the best way possible. Clayton, what do you think?”

  She could feel his gaze on her again, and it was so hot it could have melted steel. If she helped out with the concert, she would be working in close proximity with Clayton—the one thing she wanted even if it could ruin both their lives. He was going to fight her tooth and nail, whether he liked her idea or not.

  She braced herself.

  “Rye, I think she’s underestimating the time it will take,” Clayton drawled, tipping his white cowboy hat down to shade his eyes. “It’s an awful lot to take on at this late date.”

  “Clayton may be right, honey,” Rye said, the first hint of concern in his voice. “The second year of law school isn’t as insane as the first, but it’s not easy.”

  Rye knew the drill. He’d left law school a few weeks short of graduation to pursue his career in country music. He hadn’t looked back, but he knew the law was her passion.

  “I promise to make it work, Rye,” she entreated.

  Rye stroked his goatee, and for a minute she feared he’d say no. Time to play the ace up her sleeve.

  “I know it will mean the world to Tammy to have me involved. Please, Rye, let me do this for our sister.” To emphasize her seriousness, she put her hands on her hips.

  Clayton gave her a knowing glance. Yeah, he knew her tactics. Too bad she didn’t feel guilty anymore about going after what she wanted. People used to steamroll over her all the time, but she’d finally found he
r inner fire, and she wasn’t about to let anyone douse it.

  “Okay, honey,” Rye said, giving her his mega-watt smile. “I’m happy you want to help out. Your idea will take the concert to a new level, and for this cause, I want to reach high.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. Though part of the reason she wanted to help out was to be near Clayton, she wasn’t lying. She was desperate to do this for Tammy. It was yet another way she could atone for having done the worst, most awful thing anyone could do to a loved one. She had called a tabloid anonymously and aired her sister’s dirty laundry to them. The article about Rye paying Sterling a fortune to divorce their sister had been front page news.

  The thing was, so many wives returned. At the time, Amelia Ann hadn’t known if her ex brother-in-law had hurt her niece and nephew, and fear for them had convinced her to act. Ever since, she’d thought up a million different reasons to justify the call she’d made to the tabloid reporter, Gunner Nolan. A lot of soul searching had made her realize she didn’t repent her actions.

  Her only regret—and it was a big one—was the hurt she’d caused her sister and their family.

  Mixed in with that regret was the lingering fear of being discovered as the culprit. Even after all this time, her brother and Clayton were still looking for the leak. Like a prisoner on death row, every time she was with her family, she wondered how much longer she had before the truth came out.

  But whether or not anyone understood what she was doing—or the need for it—she was making amends.

  “Thank you, Rye! You won’t regret it.”

  “We’ll make sure to work around your schedule,” Clayton said, being agreeable for the sake of her brother. Whether or not he actually included her in the arrangements was another battle they would wage, one she planned to win.

  “I’ll send my fall class schedule to you, honey,” she said with a tight smile, knowing the endearment would drive him nuts.

  She could get under Clayton’s skin faster than anyone alive.

  And he could get under hers.

  They were a match made in heaven.

  He just hadn’t admitted it yet.

  “Yes, email it to me when you have a chance, honey,” he drawled back, rocking on the heels of his black cowboy boots. “Rye, I’d like the final say on the women and the stories,” Clayton said in a flat tone. “J.P. can handle the legal issues involved.”

  “I’m sure you’re overestimating the legal issues,” she said with some asperity. “You know, many of the women who serve on the boards of local women’s shelters were abused themselves at one time. Their stories are inspiring, and they’re usually happy to share them.”

  She knew. She’d heard them. Of course, not every day was like that. No, it was hard, often brutal work, and sometimes the women who came in had bruises on their faces and necks. To Amelia Ann, each one had the eyes of her sister. But helping them—whether they needed advice on the process of filing a protection order or separating from their husbands—felt important. It felt right.

  “That’s fine, Clayton,” Rye said easily. “You’ll talk to J.P., right?”

  “Sure thing,” he responded, and his mouth tipped up in a smirk like he was happy about the minor victory.

  The smile she gave him was all teeth. She stopped that smirk dead in its tracks.

  Rye glanced down for a moment, like he was struggling with something. “Amelia Ann, do you think we should ask Tammy if she’d like to share her story at the concert, or is it that too personal? Heck, I…”

  Her sense of victory faded, and her throat grew thick as she remembered the bruises she’d ignored on her sister’s arms for so long. It was the cross she had to bear—she had waited too long before acting. Their family had prided itself on appearances, never speaking about their problems or the uglier parts of life. That old pattern had been broken after their daddy’s heart attack. He’d summoned Rye home, wanting to bring his disowned son back into the fold. That one decision had saved her and Tammy in so many ways—heck, it had saved them all—but the path had been lined with so much hurt that sometimes her heart still bled from it all.

  It took a moment for her to regain her composure. “I don’t know, Rye, but I think we should ask her. Tammy’s become so brave.”

  They were feeble words to describe how much she admired her sister’s transformation.

  Her brother looked away, like he was fighting strong emotion too. “If Tammy does share her story, I probably won’t be able to sing afterwards, but I’ll handle it if she can.”

  They would all be reduced to tears.

  Everyone turned silent for a moment. “I’ll let you two continue to chat,” Clayton said, interrupting the quiet. “Do you need anything else before I go, Rye?”

  Her brother shook himself visibly. “No, I think we’re good. If we keep talking about this, I won’t be able to eat a bite.”

  She nodded to herself. Eating after she returned from the clinic sometimes proved challenging after what she’d seen. Other days, she worked so hard, her hunger knew no bounds.

  “Why don’t you join us for supper, Clayton?” Rye asked, coming around the desk and clapping him on the back. “Tory’s cooking up something special, and we’d love your company.”

  Clayton’s gaze clashed with hers. She knew him well enough to know what was going on in his head. Normally he wouldn’t hesitate, but since he knew she was staying for supper, he was thinking about jackrabbiting out. Being in her presence gave him heartburn, she suspected.

  Well, mostly, except for the time he’d held her so sweetly in her brother’s moonlit garden to comfort her after a crazy fan broke into Rye’s house and scared Tammy and her kids. She thought of that moment in his arms every night before she went to sleep, and she prayed he would touch her again. Not in comfort this time, though, but in passion.

  The push and pull between them was akin to a teeter-totter. In one meeting, she was the vulnerable one. In the next, it would be Clayton. The strength of the attraction between them unbalanced them both.

  She tilted her head to the side and gave him her best Southern simper, the one she’d practiced in the mirror for years while attending Mrs. Augusta Keller’s Comportment School for Girls. His mouth turned up like he’d just tried chewing tobacco for the first time and found it disgusting.

  “I’m sure Clayton wouldn’t hurt Tory’s feelings by running off without staying for a little spot of supper,” she added.

  “I would never hurt a lady’s feelings,” he drawled. “Thanks for the invite, Rye.”

  The insult in his voice was hard to miss, and her simper faded.

  “You know you’re always welcome. Heck, without Tammy and the kids living here anymore, Tory and I sometimes don’t know what to do with ourselves in this big ol’ house.”

  Amelia Ann wrapped her arm around her brother’s waist and kissed his cheek. “This house didn’t intimidate you before.”

  He ducked his head, a sure sign he was embarrassed by his confession. “I never minded it before Tammy and the kids came to live here, but I kinda got used to having them around. Now Tory’s the only one I can sing goodnight to anymore.”

  Her brother had undergone a tremendous transformation from badass country singer to family man. She wished Clayton would do the same. As far as she could tell, he preferred relationships shorter than the expiration date on a gallon of milk—if that. She’d often wondered if he was a natural player, or if a bad breakup had soured him to the idea of love. But since his closest friends were Rye and J.P., she could hardly ask around about his romantic past. Seeing Rye change had given her hope Clayton could change too.

  “We have our weekly Sunday family dinners,” she told him. “Personally I love seeing Tammy and the kids in their new house. She’s never had that kind of freedom before, Rye, and you know how important it is for her.”

  He hugged her close. “I do, sugar, and I’m happy for them all. I’m going to head upstairs to find my lovely wife. Y’all give me a m
oment, will you? I want to kiss her senseless before she makes me set the table.” Rye winked at her as he headed out the door.

  Left alone with Clayton, she glanced over to see his neutral expression had fallen away. His mouth was pinched as tight as if he were drinking a sour mint julep.

  “Yes?” she drawled as if she didn’t know why he was upset.

  “I know what you’re doing, Amelia Ann, and it isn’t going to work.”

  She batted her eyelashes to annoy him. “Doing what, honey?”

  “Don’t play the simpering Southern belle with me.” He stood and put his hands on his hips. “This act is beneath you.”

  “But you don’t like women who challenge you, honey.”

  He growled. “If you call me honey one more time, I swear…”

  Oh, this was getting interesting. “You swear what?”

  He opened his mouth to say something and then paused. “Nothing.”

  Right, they both knew she was pushing him to lose his cool. She fantasized about driving him to the brink and cracking his iron-clad control. Then he would yank her into his arms and kiss her senseless—just like they both wanted.

  So far he’d resisted.

  She was going to keep pushing until he caved.

  “Amelia Ann, I’ve tried to be nice, but this thing you want. Between us. It’s never going to happen.”

  “Why not?” she asked just to keep him talking, allowing her a moment to savor his scent of leather, musk, and wood smoke.

  “First, I’m one of your brother’s best friends. Second, he’s my boss. Third—”

  “The fact that y’all are so close is a huge plus, don’t you think? There’s no one he would trust with me more. I mean, Rye is thrilled that Tammy and J.P. are together.” Like a good law student, she’d already made a pros and cons list.

  “I’m not so sure you’re right about that. I’m not as lily white as that preacher-kid. Now if you’ll stop interrupting me, I’ll tell you the other reason. I’m thirty-one, and you’re twenty-three.”