Meant to Marry Me: Nashville Country Dreams Part 1

The snow was falling lightly as Bree followed Trent outside. Uncle Tom's pickup truck was almost as old as Bree was, but he did his best to keep it running, because it was his baby. It sat idling out front, breathing as heavy as Bree had been just the night before when she'd hauled the suitcase up the stairs. Had that only been a few hours ago? So much had changed since then.

As Trent slowly turned and looked at her, she was reminded that just as much had stayed the same. He had almost kissed her--again. It just didn't seem like it was meant to be. She should just tell him goodbye and forget about him. Maybe Christy and Abby were right and she should find out the name of that guy that had gotten her guitar back when it was stolen….

"Howdy there, Trent," Uncle Tom said, hopping out of the cab to grab her suitcase from him. "It's nice to see you. Boy, you've gotten tall."

"It's nice to see you, too." Tom took the suitcase but gave Trent a hug. Her aunt and uncle knew him from all the times he'd been over at Bree's house when they'd visited when Bree and Trent were younger.

"Oh, my goodness! Trent Walker!" Aunt Stacy gushed as her husband stuffed Bree's suitcase in the small back section of the truck behind the front seats. There was a sideways jump seat back there, too, and Bree knew she'd be getting acquainted with it soon. It was okay, though. It wasn't that long of a ride home.

Trent hugged her aunt. "It's nice to see you, Mrs. Hitchens."

"Mrs. Hitchens! Now, you call me Aunt Stacy!" She hugged him so tight, Bree thought she might cut his air off. "How have you been? We don't see enough of you anymore."

"Good, good."

accounting? Gonna join your dad's

be working. Hopefully, I'll get an internship this summer, and that'll give me

Stacy turned to Bree. "Hi there, precious

hugs. She kissed her cheek, and Bree was sure she'd have a streak of red

of the rest

a few of them.

and see my Abby girl. It's been too

children inside, and Bree turned and giggled at them. They were such good people. She'd already said her goodbyes, though, and she

again. He was staring at the toes of

and it has to be red." She wiped at her cheek

his thumb,

to say something about what had almost happened. But they'd tried that song

but stare back. His eyes were the same color as the sky behind him, and

of space in those few inches, miles and miles of minutes. When his mouth was finally on hers, the intensity had her digging her hands into his