Restless Heart by Wynonna Judd Page A

of the couch, rattling the end table.
    The statue of Elvis immediately began swiveling his plastic hips and singing a high-pitched, “You Ain’t Nothin’ but a Hound Dog.”
    Destiny rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of—”
    Seth gave her a smug smile. “There’s a good way to make sure it doesn’t happen again, you know.”
    “Really? What’s that?”
    With a challenging glint in his eye, he wordlessly patted the cushion beside him.
    “Oh, I don’t know . . . I kind of like this song,” she teased. “Don’t you?”
    “Not this version. And the King is dead. But if you want to grab your guitar and give it a whirl . . .”
    “No, thanks. I’m exhausted from all that singing.”
    “Then come on over here”—he patted the cushion again—“and let me give you a good old-fashioned neck rub.”
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
    “Why not?”
    She just shook her head, looking at him, unnerved by the challenge in his eyes.
    “You know, I prefer friendly persuasion, but . . .”
    Destiny shook her head. “Don’t you even . . .”
    “Dare?” Seth grinned. “Hey, I know how you can’t refuse a dare, so that wouldn’t be fair of me, now, would it?”
    “No, it certainly would not.”
    He tilted his head. “Actually, I was thinking of leaving it up to fate.”
    “Don’t you remember how I feel about fate, Seth?”
    “So you’re still a nonbeliever?”
    She nodded.
    He slid toward her.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Taking your advice. You said you have to make things happen, not sit back and wait for them to happen, so . . .”
    “You remember everything I said that evening?”
    “Pretty much,” he responded with a soft smile. “In fact, seeing you flooded my brain with memories. I’ve missed you, Destiny.”
    He reached out and pulled her into an embrace.
    A warm little tingle slid down her spine and she closed her eyes to savor the moment. Hugging him close felt more than just wonderful . . . it was simply delicious. His wide shoulders stretched the soft cotton of his T-shirt and his muscles rippled beneath her fingers. She longed to slide her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, and when the sandpaper tickle of his five-o’clock shadow slid against her smooth cheek, it was all she could do not to nuzzle closer.
    She pulled back to look at him and saw that his eyes were fixated on her mouth. Okay, so they were definitely on the same wavelength.
    Destiny was no stranger to romance; she’d dated her share of men since she’d arrived in Nashville. She knew exactly where this was headed.
    But this was Seth . The stakes had always been high where he was concerned. That hadn’t changed.
    “It’s getting late,” she said, and faked a yawn.
    “I know.”
    “I really am wiped out.”
    “I know that, too.”
    She started to stand up; Seth put a hand on her shoulder.
    She swallowed hard.
    “Now how about that back rub?”
     
     
     
    P acing through his fishing cabin, John clutched his cell phone and thought about calling Sara for the millionth time since he’d left home yesterday—heck, probably the millionth time tonight.
    He’d been trying not to think about her, but he couldn’t seem to help it. She should be here with him.
    Although he had bought the property for fishing and hunting, Sara loved summers in this rustic setting, and would often accompany him on the weekends to read and needlepoint.
    Not anymore. She’d lost interest in the cabin—or maybe just in him. Not only did the cabin look a mess without her tidy hand, but normally this time of year she would have flowerpots full of blooming annuals to bring a shot of color to the place.
    Now it was all browns and grays, musty and quiet.
    He shook his head, telling himself that it was too late to call. Still, he opened his contact folder and started scrolling with his thumb, finding some small measure of comfort at seeing her name.
    Sara—home, the entry read.
    He didn’t really mean to follow through