Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Y ou have got to be fucking kidding me."

Exasperation filled Peyton Rivers' voice as she stared at the shuttered booth. No amount of brightly colored decorations, tinsel, or Christmas trees could distract her. Three damn days in a row she'd brought herself over here, with the exact same results.

"Peyton, I told you she could sense you coming, so off she went." Her grandmother rolled her eyes, as if it pained her to explain this yet again. "She is a fortune teller, after all." When Gram's finger started moving back and forth, Peyton could almost recite the words that would accompany it. "And watch your language."

She gradually found herself relaxing her hands from the fists she had clenched them into as soon as she rounded the corner and saw the flaps pulled closed. The annual Spring, Texas, holiday festival was not off to a good start for Peyton, and it was all Madame Marlene's fault. Well, maybe not directly, but she was going to lay a lot of blame at the fortune teller's feet. Because, honestly, if it weren't for her, Peyton wouldn't have gotten her hopes up.

"Gram, I'm going to need your help."

Peyton cast an expectant look at the older woman standing next to her. Gram wasn't a tall woman, but her personality more than made up for her small stature. And she had been Peyton's rock since her parents died when she was only nine. Nell Rivers had raised her and tried to give her every ounce of spunk she had, but now she needed the one thing that hadn't seemed to rub off on her.

The older woman's eyes widened. "Peyton Annabelle! I am not cursing Madame Marlene. I would never be able to go back to church with the woman if I did that."

Peyton didn't fail to see the humor in talking about church, fortunes, and curses at the same time, but that was what one got used to when living here. It was an eclectic little town. Which was why the holiday festival had not one, but two "seers" with booths. Not to mention her Gram providing the odd love spell here and there.

And maybe a curse or two.

It wasn't like she had never cursed someone from church before, but no one around town talked about that time she got revenge on Peter Carson, in the name of his wife and her good friend, Virginia.

"It doesn't have to be a serious curse." She flashed her most innocent smile, which used to get her everything she wanted when she was a child. Her luck may have run out though because her grandmother just stared back at her. "She lied to me."

Tears pricked the back of Peyton's eyes as she spoke. She clearly remembered the last holiday when she'd finally decided to officially go to Madame Marlene's tent. Over the years, her best friend's mom had always tried to tell her what she "saw" in Peyton's future. But she never actually listened. Mainly because she never saw much of a future away from Spring.

Her grandmother pushed her to leave, explore, and spread her wings. Something always held her back. Whether it was fear of failure or the unknown or something else entirely, Peyton remained rooted in place. She loved her job at the library, being surrounded by books, but it wasn't what fed her soul.

Music did that. Singing and playing made her happy and eased something inside of her, but could she drop all the fear holding her back at her feet and walk right over it? She never thought she could, until she decided to listen to Madame Marlene.

"By the moon and stars of the holiday festival, your future will take flight. The song your heart sings will finally be heard."

And because of that, for a whole year, she was sure the coveted spot on the festival roster would be hers. For some reason, every year a big-name country music producer came out to Spring for the festival. No one from here had made it big, per se, but that didn't stop every singer in a hundred-mile radius from taking a chance.

Well, it had stopped Peyton. Or rather something had stopped her for years. Until the prediction.

Damn her. She'd known better than to believe the town diner owner could really see the future.

Gram placed a gentle hand on Peyton's arm, preventing her pacing, her whisper-soft voice just as gentle as her touch. "Baby, she told you your future would start this holiday festival. Maybe it has nothing to do with music."

"What other future would I have if it didn't involve singing, Gram? The library isn't exactly a hotbed of upward mobility." She glanced quickly around to make sure there wasn't anyone she knew lurking nearby. "And it's not like the love of my life is suddenly going to appear from a crop of men I've known since I was born."

For years, Peyton had sung in church, at parties, and children's hour at the library. Even at the most popular local bar on the rare occasion the new-ish owner, Frank Purcell, let her perform. For some reason, he had taken an instant dislike to her when he moved to town several years ago. Fortunately, the feeling was mutual, so she stayed away.

"I don't even know who the fuck this Tyler Wilcox guy is." She blatantly ignored the sharp look her grandmother leveled at her for cursing again. "No one around here has heard of him, yet somehow he got the spot. It makes no sense."

The spot in question was to perform the last three nights of the month-long festival. Peyton had gathered every bit of courage she had and submitted her application and a recording of her singing. Of course, since the entire damn town had heard her sing at some point over the course of her life, that was somewhat redundant, but it was the rules.

Marlene's words had given her the confidence to do it and maybe the over-confidence to believe she'd get it.

However, three weeks ago she found out she hadn't, and it was going to this Tyler person. She had so wanted to make her grandmother proud of her, and now she feared that would never happen.

A warm brush of a hand on her face brought Peyton out of her musings. Gram whisked away a tear she hadn't realized had slid down her cheek.

"I'm not a seer, baby, but I know you think you've let me down. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could be further from the truth. I have been blessed every day to watch you become the woman you are." Another tear fell at her grandmother's words. "I'm going to help you, even though I shouldn't."

"You're going to curse her?" There was no way to keep the hopefulness out of her voice. Peyton didn't want anything bad to happen to Madame Marlene. Well, nothing really bad.

"I said I was going to help you, and that's what I'll do."

She knew better than to make her grandmother give her more details. The woman was sharp as a tack and just as prickly. There was no way she was getting information out of her that she didn't want to give.

Peyton just hoped her Gram did right by her.

"Talk about a one stoplight town."

Tyler Wilcox was presently stopped at said light, waiting for it to turn green. Not that there was any traffic coming, but he wasn't about to blow through it. Glancing down the deserted street, a strong sense of nostalgia swept over him. He had never been to Spring before, but it wasn't all that much different from where he'd grown up in Georgia.

A little nothing town he had escaped from as soon as he could. It wasn't that he hated his hometown, but it wasn't where he needed to be. Of course, his chosen career had led him to a series of no-name towns over the course of the intervening years. This was just one more on a long list in what he was beginning to believe was an attempt at an unattainable dream.

His Uncle Frank had convinced him to give this holiday festival gig a shot, but at some point, Tyler had to be honest with himself. He wasn't getting any younger, and life on the road was getting harder and lonelier every day. The girls in the bars, hanging out for a chance with a musician, were fun when he was twenty. Turning thirty a few years ago had changed things for him. Put them into perspective.

He wanted it all. A career and a partner. Someone he could share the long, lonely rides with if he continued his pursuit. Or maybe they could curl up on a couch together, if he gave in and gave up.

He tried not to let himself envision the limelight that would come with a truly successful career, a superstar career. More than ten years of no breaks was weighing him down. Tyler told himself, after this festival, he would sit down and give it serious thought.

He could never stop writing, playing, or singing. It was what he was born to do, but was it time to stop the sleepless nights of bars and driving from place to place? He thought it might be. He'd take this one last shot at a big break and go from there.

Realizing the light had gone to green and was now flipping back to yellow, he pushed down on the gas and made it through the intersection before the light turned red. He spotted his uncle's bar up ahead, set somewhat apart from the main "town" street. The large unpaved lot in front held only a smattering of cars. In a town this size, this far away from any big city, usually it was either the church or the bar that drew in the most folks.

Looked like his uncle wasn't the lucky one in this equation on a Tuesday night.

Tyler slowed his pickup to a stop along the edge, the small camper he towed negated using a normal spot. Money wasn't always easy to come by in this nomadic life he led, so he had learned early the wisdom of dragging along someplace to sleep. Quite frankly, it gave him a little bit of normalcy. As cramped and crappy as the trailer was, at least he could make it a little homey. The pictures his young nieces drew for him were hanging on the walls, carefully taped next to photos of his family.

Maybe it wasn't all bad.

He climbed out of the truck's cab, the long hours on the road coming from his last show evident in the stiffness of his legs and back. One thing he definitely wouldn't miss if he gave up or made it: cramped driving conditions. A couple of stretches, and he finally managed to get his back into somewhat decent alignment with the rest of his body.

Striding toward the bar's door, he took in the place. The requisite neon signs in the window signaled the beers that were served. The Broken Spring was scrawled across a large sign overhead, proclaiming the name of the local watering hole.

Even though it was his uncle's bar, it looked like damn near every other bar Tyler had been in over the past dozen years.

"Hell, even longer than that." Great. Now he was talking to himself in public. But the truth of the matter was he'd been singing in bars long before it was legal for him to have a drink in one. As a kid, his dad would take him to perform. Then, when he finally left home, he pretended to be older than he was.

Sadly, nowadays, he felt like he was, without the pretending.

The latest Luke Bryan was drifting through the door even before he opened it, but once he pushed it in, he was wrapped in the arms of what had come to be a version of his home. No matter what state or town he was in, no matter what bar or venue, there was something about this music that spoke to him.

Before his eyes could adjust to the dimness, he was gathered up in a big bear hug. The kind his dad gave him. Which shouldn't surprise him since his dad and uncle were stepbrothers, and what one brother did, the other tried to do just a little bit better. Giving hugs was not an exception to that rule.

"Damn good to see you, Ty." His Uncle Frank's meaty hand clasped on to his. "This is going to be it for you, kid. I know it."

His family had never once doubted him. Even after years of struggling and playing to half-empty bars and having songs he had written getting cut but never climbing the charts, every single one of them thought his big break was around the next corner. Tyler wished he had that amount of faith in himself. Instead, he just faked it and did what he needed to do.

"I can only dream."

And that's what he did. Every night. Dream of something more, something different, something better.

"Forget the dreams right now. It's time for action." Uncle Frank was a big man, matching Tyler's height, but far outmeasuring his girth. "You're gonna get up there and wow that guy."

For reasons far beyond Tyler's understanding, the Spring Holiday Festival managed to snag a big time Nashville producer every year to come and watch the show. Lloyd Hutchinson's name was well known by everyone in country music. How he wound up in Spring every year was unimaginable. There had to be a connection somehow, maybe family or a long-lost love.

"I'm gonna do what I do. Hopefully that's enough to wow him." Tyler had his doubts though. There hadn't been a whole lot of wowing in the past.

"Boy, you have to think positive. Besides, you beat out everyone to even get the spot."

A sarcastic, yet sweet voice broke through the music. "Yeah, without any help from you, right, Frank?"

"Aunt Claire, are you saying I didn't get this on my own merit?" He grabbed hold of one of his favorite people in the world and gave her a little spin.

"It's not what you know, it's who you know. And I may have pushed your name to the top of the pile through some selective discussion." His uncle didn't look the least bit ashamed of his machinations. "Besides, there was only one real competitor, and I'm damn shocked Peyton even tried. Never has before."

Tyler wasn't sure how he felt about some secret handshake deal, but he had been around long enough to know Uncle Frank's words were right.

He couldn't worry about that now though. He needed to focus and take this last shot. Because he had a feeling this chance was his everything.

Nell settled onto her couch, lights turned down low, and relaxed into the evening. She thought about what her darling granddaughter wanted her to do. Not that she wasn't above cursing someone, whether it really worked or not was a different story. She couldn't deny that the few times she put her energy into some negative thoughts, misfortune usually befell the unlucky person.

She was not about to do that to Marlene, no matter how much Peyton had regaled her as their evening progressed. Partly she wasn't going to give in to Peyton that easily. And secondly, well, she wasn't all that sure Marlene's prediction wasn't still in play.

Nell didn't fashion herself a witch or wiccan; she simply liked to cast mostly positive spells to see if she could help her friends. She didn't have the "sight" her friend claimed to have, but she completely believed she could sense when things were about to change. No matter what Peyton believed about the failure of Marlene's prediction, Nell knew something was going on.

She just didn't know what.

The photo on the side table caught her eye. A young Peyton in her father's arms, with her mom standing next to them. Peyton's dark hair, the same color as her mother's, was in pigtails. Her green eyes were a perfect replica to the man holding her. A giggle was escaping that little mouth as her dad went to nuzzle her neck, as it always did. Looking at the picture made Nell's heart clench as always. She missed her son and daughter-in-law every day. She'd raised her son alone, and he had meant everything to her. The day he died, a hole in her heart was created that she didn't think would ever be filled. And while it was by no means healed, the pleasure she experienced watching Peyton grow and become the woman she now was put that joy back into her soul.

She wished her granddaughter would find some sort of happiness and faith in herself.

Whoever this Wilcox guy was, and however he had gotten the festival spot, he had dashed every bit of enthusiasm that had built up in Peyton since Marlene's words. Now she had to get her through these next few weeks, all while keeping some of her own secrets as usual this time of the year.

But she couldn't focus on herself right now. No, time had come for her to put whatever meager magical talents she had to work. She pulled out the handy-dandy spell book she often referred back to and cracked open the well-worn cover. With ease, she found the one she sought and went about gathering all she needed.

Once collected, she settled herself into the circle she had created.