It’s In His Song: Book 6 Read online

  Contents

  Also by Shelly Alexander

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Also by Shelly Alexander

  About the Author

  Also by Shelly Alexander

  Shelly’s titles with a little less steam (still sexy, though!):

  The Red River Valley Series

  It’s In His Heart – Coop & Ella’s Story

  It’s In His Touch – Blake & Angelique’s Story

  It’s In His Smile – Talmadge & Miranda’s Story

  It’s In His Arms – Mitchell & Lorenda’s Story

  It’s In His Forever - Langston & His Secret Love’s Story

  It’s In His Song - Dylan & Hailey’s Story

  It’s In His Christmas Wish - Coming 11/12/19

  The Angel Fire Falls Series

  Dare Me Once — Trace & Lily’s Story

  Dare Me Again — Elliott & Rebel’s Story

  Dare Me Now - TBA

  Dare Me Always - TBA

  Shelly’s sizzling titles (with a lot of steam):

  The Checkmate Inc. Series

  ForePlay – Leo & Chloe’s Story

  Rookie Moves – Dex & Ava’s Story

  Get Wilde – Ethan & Adeline’s Story

  Sinful Games – Oz & Kendall’s Story

  Wilde Rush - Jacob & Grace’s Story Coming 2019

  As always, to my husband. Thank you for instilling your love of music into our three sons. Listening to them play has been one of the true joys in my life.

  And to George L., Jeff S., Anthony A. and all of my other male readers who are too numerous to list here. Thank you for being confident enough in yourselves to read romance. You make my job so worthwhile.

  BTW, George…

  I kept the washboard abs and muscled biceps to a minimum in this book just for you :)

  Chapter One

  Hailey despised him.

  With a chunk of Ms. Francine’s wet, gray hair in Hailey’s hand, the snipping of her brand spanking new salon shears slowed as she watched Dylan McCoy stroll past the storefront window of Shear Elegance.

  Her heart kicked against her chest more than she thought it would. After six years, she didn’t expect blood to pound in her ears the first time she saw him again.

  A vaguely familiar, middle-aged woman sporting an outdated perm flirtatiously touched Dylan’s arm as they passed each other on the sidewalk. And wouldn’t you know it, Dylan stopped smack in the middle of Hailey’s view of Main Street to chat.

  She had to remind herself to breathe.

  The years since they parted ways had obviously been kind to him. He looked exactly the same. Same deep olive skin tone. Same dark hair that was longer than Red River’s norm. Same dimple on his cheek as he smiled. Same pierced ear that gave him that infamous panty-melting, rock star look.

  He was angled to one side, but she could guarantee his onyx pirate eyes that could see deep into her soul hadn’t changed either. They were one of the things she’d found attractive about him way back when. The olive complexion and dark eyes from his mother’s Spanish conquistador ancestry—so prevalent throughout northern New Mexico—gave him an air of exotic mystery. A look that didn’t at all fit the name McCoy.

  She’d have known him anywhere. Picked him out of any crowd. Even after six years.

  She lifted her chin and started cutting again. She wouldn’t let him ruin her first day at work as the new partner in Red River’s swankiest salon.

  She wouldn’t.

  She couldn’t.

  Since she’d only been back in her hometown a few days, and had kept her return incognito, she’d wanted to spend a little time alone in the shop before anyone else arrived. Wanted to gain her footing in the new work space. Breathe in the air and get a feel for the place since she was part owner now. Imagine her surprise when Ms. Francine, who had a heart of gold, and a penchant for vodka spiked lemonade that was near legendary, walked in with a gigantic purse hooked into the notch of her elbow the minute Hailey unlocked the front door.

  She’d graduated from one of the most prestigious cosmetology schools in the Southwest. Had been the most in-demand stylist at a posh hair studio in Albuquerque’s upscale Heights district. Beehive hairdos weren’t her forte, but she’d grown up on stories about Ms. Francine and her mysterious purse, which she could weaponize if it suited her purpose, so how could Hailey turn her away?

  Dylan McCoy was not going to spoil this moment.

  She angled the chair away from the window so she and Ms. Francine could look straight into the mirror instead. Behind them, plastic sheets hung from the ceiling where a wall used to exist. The bait and tackle shop that once separated Shear Elegance from Red River’s favorite watering hole—Cotton Eyed Joe’s—was now part of the salon.

  Or it would be as soon as the contractors finished uncovering all the structural problems that no one knew existed until she and her cousin slash business partner, Brianna, had already closed on the property. The gutted space with its cement floor, exposed plumbing pipes, and walls that had been stripped down to the studs would eventually transform into manicure booths, pedicure chairs, and private spa rooms. It was going to be gorgeous when it was finally complete. For now, it was a nightmare.

  “I liked the window view better, dear,” cooed Ms. Francine.

  So did Hailey. Until it was blocked by an eyesore named Dylan and a flirty cougar who might as well be on a call from the ’80s so they could ask for their hairstyle back.

  Shame heated Hailey’s cheeks because now she was just being mean. “The glare from the sun was in my eyes.” She combed up another handful of silver-blue hair and trimmed off the dead ends.

  “Uh huh.” Ms. Francine lifted a graying brow.

  Hailey glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and snuck another peak at Dylan as he threw his head back and laughed. Cougar Lady laid a hand on the forearm of his black leather jacket, and let it linger there a little too long.

  The shop hadn’t been open an hour and Hailey’s first day on the job was already going to hell.

  Then again, the thought of Dylan McCoy usually pushed her buttons quicker than anything else on the planet. Which was why she tried hard not to think of him since the night he stood her up six years ago, ending their whirlwind, short-lived romance as quickly as it had started. Left her sitting alone in a booth at Cotton Eyed Joe’s. Left her staring at the empty seat across the table until his Uncle Joe came over and broke the news that Dylan had left town, headed for L.A. sooner than planned because of an unexpected opportunity.

  Yes, she despised him all right.

  She went back to sculpting Ms. Francine’s wiry hair into something much more stylish than the backcombed ’do she’d had when she walked into the salon.

  From the corner of Hailey’s eye, she saw Cougar Lady reach out and touch Dylan’s arm again.

  Snip, snip, snip.

  Okay, despise might be a little harsh.

  Dylan hadn’t hidden his plan to leave town. After dropping out of college, he’d been working at Joe’s to save money for the move to L.A. so he could try to make it as a musician. College hadn’t been her gig either. She’d just finished cosmetology school in another state and had come home to take a break and figure out where she wanted to work as an upstart stylist.

  They’d both been adults with dreams and aspirations. Both had career plans that didn’t likely include staying in Red River.

  And he had tried to call several months after he left.

  Once.


  Just as Dylan walked away from Cougar Lady, he stopped and chatted it up with an attractive redhead. Apparently, that rock star persona that Hailey had followed on magazine covers while waiting in checkout lines once Dylan became a rising star in the music world—the one that had ladies of all ages and cup sizes practically throwing their panties at him—hadn’t worn off.

  Snip, snip, snip, snip, snip!

  Maybe despise wasn’t harsh enough. Loathe would be a more accurate word.

  That was her story, anyway, and she was sticking to it. Telling herself she loathed him was the only way she could get through seeing him again for the first time in years.

  “Is something bothering you, dear?” Ms. Francine asked, still clutching a purse the size of a moving truck in her lap.

  “Um, no, ma’am.” Hailey tried to get a grip on her emotions. She’d known from the moment she took Brianna up on her offer to move back to Red River, so they could expand the salon together, that coming face to face with Dylan was a given.

  His return to town had been big news, which Brianna relayed to Hailey during their weekly phone calls. No one knew why, because he would never talk about it, but he’d moved back to Red River at the height of his career, and stayed. It was hardly possible to avoid him forever in a town so small the number of traffic lights could be counted on one hand. With a few fingers left over once the counting was done.

  But she could sure as heck postpone it as long as possible.

  “Are you sure nothing’s on your mind?” Ms. Francine asked.

  “I’m fine. Why do you ask?” Hailey kept shaping, snipping, and cutting.

  “Because you’re attacking my hair like you’re Edward Scissorhands,” Ms. Francine said with the calmest voice.

  Oy.

  Hailey took several deep, steadying breaths, just like she did during her yoga classes. “My apologies. I promise your hair will look fabulous when I’m done.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt it will, hon.” Ms. Francine’s boney fingers tightened around the top of her purse. “That’s why I came in first thing this morning. I heard you were back in town, and I wanted to be your first customer.”

  “Oh. I thought you were looking for Brianna. How did you know I’d be here this morning?” Hailey stilled mid-snip and stared at Ms. Francine in the mirror. “I just moved back two days ago. How did you find out so fast?” Swearing her mom and Brianna to secrecy, Hailey had snuck back into town and made it a point to keep her return to Red River as far under the radar as possible. To avoid questions. To blend in as though she’d been here all along and minimize the gossip.

  And she was just hearing that in her head.

  Double oy.

  People weren’t likely to miss the fact that after staying away from Red River for six long years, she’d moved home with one very distinct change to her life. That change was the reason she needed the financial stability the salon partnership would bring. It was the reason she needed to be closer to her family instead of them making the once a month weekend trip to Albuquerque to see her. It was the reason she was risking everything by coming back to Red River, where she’d have to face her past sooner or later.

  Ms. Francine tilted her head to one side. “Two days in Red River is a long time when it comes to news.”

  True. Which was why Hailey had left five weeks after Dylan had, flipping the city limits sign off on her way out of town, and never came back. Until now.

  A tremor of guilt wound its way around her stomach.

  No. Just no. She wouldn’t have regrets about the secret she’d kept for six years. Not after he was the one who’d made it clear he didn’t want strings. Strings would’ve held him back from following his dream to the West Coast, where everybody who was anybody in the music industry had to be.

  The four hundred dollar shears zipped through Ms. Francine’s hair with expert precision, silver-blue hair clippings scattering across the purple salon smock.

  When a mane of red hair caught Hailey’s eye, she stopped cutting and looked out of the window again. The pretty ginger laughed at something Dylan said, and he flashed a million-dollar smile that was all charm and swagger.

  A storm of emotion kicked up in Hailey’s chest, circling and spinning like a tornado. What was wrong with her? He was just another member of the community. An unavoidable nuisance.

  A nuisance she’d seen naked. Many, many times during their brief relationship, but still. She’d just have to deal, and so would he.

  Ms. Francine let out an exaggerated sigh.

  Hailey’s attention snapped back to her client. “I’m sorry, Ms. Francine. It’s just that it’s strange to be back in town after so long.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Ms. Francine’s voice was whimsical. “And you never got married.” It wasn’t a question.

  Hailey stiffened, then caught herself, and carried on as though it was no big deal. She shook her head. “Haven’t met the right person yet.”

  “There aren’t many eligible bachelors left in Red River.” Ms. Francine sighed again. “Maybe more will move here since our little town is growing.” She pointed out the window at Dylan. “He’s still single, though.”

  Hailey nearly choked. “Not interested,” she blurted.

  “He’s a good catch, that one.” Ms. Francine brushed hair clippings off her purse. “He’s in line to take over Cotton Eyed Joe’s when his uncle retires. Been steady and solid as a rock since he moved back. He’ll make some lucky girl a fine husband.” Ms. Francine practically gushed. “And my guess is he’ll be a great father, too.”

  Hardly.

  That time Hailey did choke, and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand.

  Little did Ms. Francine know that Dylan had made it clear years ago he didn’t want kids. Kids were strings, and fatherhood didn’t suit a guy who planned to spend most of his time on the road.

  Dylan never knew how much their brief fling had turned her life upside down. Maybe she should’ve told him, but she’d been young and scared, and alone because he’d vanished from her life without saying goodbye. By the time he finally did call, she hadn’t answered because he’d shown her what a mistake it would be to count on him.

  Her own parents had gotten married because her mom was already pregnant with Hailey. For her sake, they had stayed together until she left home, and had been two of the unhappiest people she’d known, making her feel like she was the cause of their misery. Once she’d decided to move away to attend cosmetology school, her dad had practically beat her to the door with his suitcases in tow. Now, she was lucky if she got a birthday card from him, and when one did show up in the mail, her name was usually spelled wrong.

  Snip, snip, snip. Hailey shaped Ms. Francine’s hair with fast, sure strokes.

  Nuh-uh. No way would Hailey put herself through that kind of hell.

  She deserved better.

  And so did her daughter, Melody.

  * * *

  White pillowy clouds moved slowly across the bright blue sky as Dylan said goodbye to Ella Wells, Red River’s very own famous erotic romance author, who was just as well known for her flaming red hair as she was for her steamy books. He headed up the sidewalk to Cotton Eyed Joe’s to start his workday. Until late last night, he’d been out of town on a last-minute work trip in Austin, Texas. Red River being the close-knit community it was, every local who was out and about so early in the morning had stopped him during his five-minute walk to work to say hello and catch up, as though he’d been gone a year instead of only a week.

  As he jogged up the front steps of Joe’s, he started whistling a new melody he’d composed last night while traveling home. No lyrics had come to him yet, but the tune was good. He knew it with that sixth sense he had when it came to music and hit songs.

  He blew through the front door, never slowing the spring in his step. Kept whistling that tune, even as peanut shells crunched under the distressed leather biker boots he still wore from back in the day when he’d performed onstage in fron
t of thousands of fans.

  What could he say? They could take the guy out of rock and roll, but they could never take rock and roll out of the guy.

  Spending time in the bars and clubs on Sixth Street, the heart of Austin’s moving and shaking music scene, had given him the bug again. Reignited that soul deep burn to write songs. Something he thought dead once he was pushed out of his band in L.A. by an unscrupulous lead singer. He’d given Dylan a shot touring with the band long enough for him to write an entire hit album for them. At which point, the asshole put his name on all the songs and had the band’s manager hand Dylan his walking papers.

  The plagiarist.

  The prick.

  Dylan stopped whistling. The deception of the cutthroat music industry was his past. Taking over this bar and restaurant so Uncle Joe could retire was Dylan’s future. He was determined to do his uncle proud instead of wallowing in self-pity and bitterness.

  He waved to his Uncle Joe and greeted him the same way he did every morning, just to bust the old guy’s chops. “Yo, Unc.”

  Uncle Joe grunted, which made Dylan chuckle. He loved that man like a father because he had a heart as big and soft as his midsection.

  And because Uncle Joe accepted Dylan exactly the way he was, unlike his real father. His uncle never judged because Dylan loved music more than hunting or fishing. Never criticized because Dylan preferred writing poetry and lyrics since the age of ten instead of working under the hood of an old classic truck.

  He flipped up the countertop at the end of the long bar and stepped into his sanctuary. The spot from which he felt he could rule the world. Or at least rule the little piece he’d carved out for himself with his uncle’s help.

  Uncle Joe lumbered over, his strides slow from age and arthritis. “What’re you doing here? I figured you’d take the day off and rest up since you got back so late last night.”