Free The Promise of Rainbows by Ava Miles Page A

shouted beside him.
    Tammy immediately shushed her.
    “But Mama,” she protested. “He almost dropped it. He wasn’t paying attention.”
    Not only were his ears burning now, but his cheeks had to be bright red too. Imagine a little mite like her calling him out for not paying attention. Even though it was true. Smiling just a bit, Susannah took the rose from him.
    Moments later, Rye appeared by his side and pulled him toward the door to the family room. “We’re going down to the recording studio. Y’all holler if you need anything.”
    “Like I haven’t heard that before,” Tory called out, going back to stuffing large mushrooms with a mixture made out of what looked like butter and herbs.
    “Can I come, Uncle Rye?” Annabelle asked, rushing over.
    “Not right now, half-pint,” Rye said, which put an instant frown on her face. “Jake and I are going to write a song with your daddy.”
    Tammy looked over her shoulder. “I can hear your hints from a mile away, Rye.”
    “Marry the man, Tammy, for the love of God,” Rye said in an aggrieved voice.
    J.P. leaned down to kiss Tammy’s cheek. “Don’t let anyone pressure you, sweetheart. I know you’ll marry me when you’re ready.”
    “But when?” Annabelle called out in a half wail. “I want to go back and live at his house.”
    “Enough of that,” Tammy said, hugging her daughter. “It’ll all happen in good time. Now, why don’t you help your aunts peel potatoes?”
    “But I hate peeling potatoes,” Annabelle said with a wider frown.
    “Then run on outside and play,” Tammy said in a crisp tone, a little shorter than usual.
    Annabelle raced out of the room. “See you later, Jake. I’m going to find Rory.”
    Jake met Susannah’s eyes as he left the kitchen with J.P. and Rye. She was still holding her rose pressed against her chest. The moment stayed with him as he followed his friends downstairs to Rye’s recording studio.
    His contribution to their song was a string of lyrics involving giving the woman you love a passel of roses. Rye got a bit misty-eyed when he offered up a couple of lyrics about giving red roses to his wife when she gave him a baby. J.P. gazed at him thoughtfully before suggesting they write a song about all the times a man is supposed to give a woman flowers, which they agreed would be a powerful message.
    Clayton joined them for a time, and they broke out a single batch bourbon that warmed his belly. Some time later, Tory called out that dinner was ready, and they all headed back upstairs.
    Jake greeted Amelia Ann, who was now helping the others in the kitchen. Then he shook hands with Rye’s parents, who had arrived while they were downstairs. In the few times Jake had met Rye’s mama, she’d seemed like a harsh, bitter woman. But tonight she was holding hands with the husband who’d separated from her months ago, and she glowed with a renewed radiance he recognized as love.
    Rye pulled him aside and led him into the dining room. “My parents seem to have reconciled for the moment. It came after Christmastime. They’re not back to living with each other yet, and if that’s not the weirdest thing you’ll ever hear, I don’t know what is. But they seem to be happy, so I’m happy for them.”
    Jake knew Rye had been estranged from his family for many years after becoming a country singer. His reconciliation with them was recent, fostered in many ways by his Yankee wife. Jake doubted he would ever reconcile with his own family. Sometimes estrangement was sadly for the best.
    “I appreciate you letting me know about your folks,” he said, not knowing what else to say.
    Rye snorted. “Shoot. I sound more like a greeting card than a man should these days, and it’s only going to get worse. Excuse me for a sec.”
    He walked over to his wife, whom he hugged like a gentle bear. She patted him on the chest and nodded.
    “Everyone,” Rye called out. “Grab a seat, please.”
    Annabelle appeared beside Jake like