Chapter 1
Rayne Sadler stood on Main Street in front of the Holiday Pines Playhouse, feeling as if years had fallen away. It was almost as if he was a teenager again, about to help design the sets for his high school’s production ofThe Music Man.
The playhouse had been built in 1928 and reflected the Art Deco style of the era. It was undergoing an extensive restoration both inside and out, which was why the front of the building was covered in scaffolding. The double doors of the front entrance weren’t blocked, but Rayne was hesitant to test them. He’d just gotten in town, so no one at the playhouse was expecting him. All he’d done was check in with the realtor to pick up the keys of the house he’d rented. He hadn’t even unloaded his car yet, but nostalgia had spurred him to visit the playhouse before he did anything else.
“Rayne!” The door on the right opened, and a portly, white-haired man stepped outside, beaming. “It’s great to see you!”
“Hi, Mr. Watson.” Rayne went to meet Steve Watson, the manager of the playhouse, and held out his hand. “I couldn’t wait to see the place. It holds a lot of good memories for me.”
Like making out backstage with Emilio Rives late at night when rehearsals were over and the rest of the cast and tech crew had gone home.
“Call me Steve, please,” Steve said as he shook Rayne’s hand. “The playhouse is an important part of our town. That’s why we need it in perfect shape for this holiday season. Come on in and have a look around. Have you come up with any preliminary plans?”
“I was waiting to see the space and what condition it’s in.”
He’d been approached by the Holiday Pines arts council about heading the interior restoration. Holiday Pines, North Carolina, was a tiny mountain town with a population of less than five thousand people. Being the home of the biggest Christmas tree farm in the state made it a popular destination during the winter season, which it had capitalized on for decades by going all out from the day after Thanksgiving through Christmas Day. There were events every day thanks to local businesses, and weekends were packed with festivals, parades, and musical performances sponsored by the town.
According to the president of the arts council, tourism had tapered off over the last few years, and the town was trying to bolster it with new events and a restoration of the playhouse, where many of the them would take place. The council had approached Rayne because he was a former local who had made enough of a name for himself as an interior designer in Atlanta that they hoped to use him as a “claim to fame” draw.
Rayne was contracted to finish the restorations by Thanksgiving, but he’d decided to book an extended stay since he hadn’t spent Christmas in Holiday Pines in years. His trips home for the holidays had grown sporadic after he graduated from college. Several years ago his parents had decided they were tired of western North Carolina winters and moved to a retirement village in Florida, so Rayne had no reason to visit.
So this year he’d cleared his schedule from the last week of October through the first week of January and delegated his clients to his employees. He’d expected to feel anxious about leaving his business in someone else’s hands, but instead, he’d felt relief as the city grew smaller in his rearview mirror. He hadn’t realized how tired he was of Atlanta’s bustle and noise until he hit a quiet stretch of highway lined with trees that had scattered their orange, yellow, and red leaves on the road to tumble in Rayne’s wake. The hum of the car tires on asphalt eased the tension he carried in his shoulders, and he had relaxed in response to the restful scene.
As he followed Steve inside, the musty scent of an old building wafted by Rayne’s nose. The interior of the playhouse looked much like Rayne remembered it, only shabbier. The gilding was chipped, the carpet was worn thin, and the red velvet drapes were faded, but the structure appeared sound.
“She has good bones to work with,” he said, and Steve smiled proudly.
“That she does. She needs some TLC, that’s all.”
“I can give her that,” Rayne said, skimming his fingertips across the dull wallpaper. His mind was already turning over the possibilities, and he couldn’t wait to start doing research on the history of the building and its original interior design materials.
“Would you like to see the auditorium?” Steve asked. “There’s a rehearsal going on, but it’ll be fine as long as we’re quiet.”
“I’d love to.” Rayne felt a surge of anticipation at seeing the place where he’d spent so much time as a theater kid. Holiday Pines High didn’t have an auditorium, so they always used the playhouse for their performances, including band, choir, and orchestra as well as the plays and musicals put on twice a year by the drama class students.
As they headed toward the double doors from the lobby to the auditorium proper, Rayne heard a recording of the fast-paced Trans-Siberian Orchestra piece, “Wizards in Winter.” Steve held the door open for him, revealing several children in leotards and tights up on the stage, their hands joined as they pranced in a circle.
The music stopped, and a man stepped out of the wings, his back to the auditorium as he walked toward the children. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his long legs encased in lycra dance pants that outlined the hard muscles of his calves and thighs and clung to the taut mounds of his ass. His tight-fitting tank left his well-developed arms bare, and his long, dark hair was tied back in a ponytail. He gestured at the children, who watched him attentively.
“That was good, but we need to try it again. The music sounds different in here than in the studio because of the way it echoes, so you’re all slow on the beat. Let’s take it back to the beginning. Positions!”
Rayne froze at the sound of a familiar voice. Emilio’s voice.
“Is that Emilio Rives?” he asked, trying to sound more casual than he felt.
“Yes, he took over the dance studio when his mother retired,” Steve said. “He’s choreographing all the holiday dance shows.”
Rayne had thought about the possibility of crossing paths with Emilio when he’d accepted the job, but he didn’t think it would happen so soon. His stomach clenched with a roiling mix of apprehension and anticipation. He walked down the aisle to get a better look at the man who had been his first boyfriend. They’d given each other a lot of firsts when they were desperately horny teenagers, and that old, familiar attraction flared up anew as he watched Emilio now. Emilio was a little taller, a bit more muscular, and much more filled out than the lanky teen Rayne remembered, and he’d grown into a solid, sexy man.
“Rehearsals won’t get in the way of your work, will they?” Steve asked, keeping his voice low.
“We might have to close the auditorium off,” Rayne said, forcing himself to stop ogling Emilio and pay attention to the auditorium instead. He made some mental notes as he looked around. “But we’ll schedule it so the work in here is finished first, so the performers can work in the renovated space no later than midmonth.” He glanced at Steve, one eyebrow raised. “All of this is contingent on how big my work crew is and how experienced they are. You’re asking for a lot of work with a tight turn-around time.”
“We’ve got plenty of volunteers,” Steve said. “We’re trading free labor and materials for free advertising. Any local business or craftsperson who helps with the restoration will be recognized with a plaque in the lobby. We’ll also make their flyers and business cards available at the concession stand.”
“I guess they’ve got sentimental reasons for helping out too,” Rayne said with a wry smile. He was taking a greatly reduced fee for this particular job, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t need the money, and he was attached to the playhouse.
“That they do,” Steve said with a knowing smile.
