Read An Excerpt
LAST CHANCE SUMMER
General Contemporary Romance, E-book, Contemporary Romance
The festival organizers were so thoughtful. They piped in WLST’s live fair broadcast at the ticket box for the main pavilion, where the pet show was scheduled to start in mere minutes.
Amanda stood in the ticket line, humming along to “Can I Have This Dance?” The song came to a close, and Grant Trumbull’s voice rained down on them.
“That last one was a dedication from Lord Woolham to his lovely wife, Lady Rocky. And now I’m honored to be joined in the booth by Bubba Lockheart, who, based on the work he’s done to my jalopy, is the best mechanic in the county. He’s also the winner of the Demolition Derby for the last five years. Bubba, I have just one question: are you going to do it again?”
“I aim to.”
Dead air ensued, and Amanda found herself smiling. Bubba was not exactly the most articulate man, and she remembered a couple of interviews Granddaddy had attempted over the years. Obviously Grant Trumbull expected Bubba to wax poetic about his feats in the mud on derby day, but Bubba was shy and quiet and monosyllabic.
“So tell me about your car this year?” Grant asked.
“It's a 1982 Ford Crown Victoria.”
Grant hesitated only a very short moment this time. “Ah, 1982. That was a very good year.”
“I was born in 1982.”
Amanda had been born in 1982 as well.
“Exactly my point, Bubba. So, there you have it, folks. Bubba Lockheart is the man to beat at tonight’s Demolition Derby.”
“Uh, can I say something?”
“Sure, Bubba.” Whoa, wait a minute, Bubba wanted to say something in public? How had Trumbull gotten him to do that? Granddaddy used to say that Bubba was a tough nut to crack.
“I heard what Miz Miriam told you this morning,” Bubba said. “Shoot, the whole county heard it. And you’d be a fool if you didn’t go to the Lost and Found. Miz Miriam has matched up just about everyone in Last Chance.”
“Did she match you up?”
“Sort of. And hey, babe, I know you’re listening. I love you, Rachel, and the little punkin’. Rachel's going to have a baby.”
Trumbull chuckled. His laugh sounded like a distant rumble of thunder. “Well, congratulations. And it’s nice to be in a place where so many men are in love with their wives. And now, speaking of love, here’s one of my most favorite love songs, ‘Bless the Broken Road’, by Rascal Flatts.”
Damn. Grant Trumbull’s voice was more than merely deep and mellow; there was something about the way he handled the interviews. She hated to admit it, but he was better than Granddaddy. And he had some of the same qualities as her late grandfather. He was interested in people. He was kind. He never ridiculed.
And he played a lot of love songs. “Bless the Broken Road” was one of Amanda’s most favorite, too.