“I’ll drive you until it doesn’t work anymore. I loved cooking for the band. I’ll wait while you go in.” I mocked myself out loud as I sat in the car, watching Mari’s retreating form.
And what a retreating form it was. All I had to do was ensure that I spent less time thinking about her and ways to touch her, yet the second my mouth opened, I was scheming the exact opposite. I cooked her a damn meal. What had I been thinking?
I knew.
If I had thought seeing her in my clothes was a magical sight, watching her inhale the food I cooked for her changed something in me on a cellular level. It certainly never excited me to see the goobers from The Burnouts shoveling down my food. I’d only known Mari for a short time and already I felt like my whole world was flipped upside down. I was meant to be home and relaxing until Cath and I finally had our first session.
And wasn’t I a chump? Sitting here as she walked down Main Street. This was what happened when you got involved in things. You then had to leave the house and interact with people.
Groaning, I rubbed my temples. How did people live like this?
Mari made her way to the Victorian mini mansion on the corner lot, across from where I’d parked. The sign outside said Monroe & Sons. I squinted and leaned closer to get a better look as a large man came forward to greet her. I frowned as they shook hands. The man looked like he could play Superman;he was that good-looking. I tried to remember what Becky Lee had said about her sons during bunco. They were all married now, right?
I should probably go in there, just in case. He seemed professional enough, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I unbuckled and was about to open the door when my phone vibrated.
“Hey,” I answered Devlin’s call, keeping my eyes on Mari and the Monroe brother.
“Hey, man, sorry I missed you.”
“No worries. I’m calling for a favor. Since you owe me.”
“Is that right?” Devlin asked on the other side of the line in a cocky tone. “Does that mean you have decided to help Mari and Cath?”
“I’m working on it. Only, there’s difficulty securing a place for us to practice. Any chance you would be open to a few nights a week at your new and improved studio?” I asked.
Mari threw her head back and laughed. I squeezed the phone in my hand.
Devlin cleared his throat.
“Sorry. What did you say?” I asked.
“I was going to call this week anyway.” Devlin’s voice took a gruff edge.
“Yeah?” In the shop, a dark-haired woman appeared at Mr. Chiseled Features’s side. It was Molly Cooper—related to me only in name because of Belle Cooper’s previously mentioned now deceased husbands. The Monroe brother, who must have been Garret now that I thought about it, looked at Molly like she hung the moon, squeezing her close. Tension melted out, and I focused back on the conversation in my ear.
“I got a call from Vander,” Devlin said.
I froze at the mention of my former best friend. Devlin also knew Vander from our time at camp and they had remained friends over the years. Apparently, even now. A different sort of jealousy gripped my chest. “Oh?”
“The Burnouts are wrapping up their tour. They want to record their next album before Christmas and asked if they could come use my studio.”
I swallowed. “A new album,” I repeated numbly.
That part wasn’t a surprise. The Burnouts’ tour had been massively successful since I’d been booted.BecauseI’d been booted, depending on who you asked. But the shocking news in all this was that Vander was the one who reached out.
Vander back in Green Valley didn’t make sense. If I had been eager to leave this place, he’d been even more determined. He’d always been the ideas guy with the big dreams and life outside here. I wanted it too, of course, butmostly, I wanted to get away. Vander hated it here and swore he would never come back.
“Why Green Valley?” I asked, trying to hide any reaction.
But truly. What the hell was Vander playing at? Thousands of studios in the country. Some of the best in the world, just over in Nashville. Why had he chosen to come here? We hadn’t exchanged a word in six months after talking every day since we were kids.
To laugh in my face? To rub in how successful the group has been since I was kicked to the curb?
“He said he wanted to get back to his roots. Hoping the Smokies will inspire them,” Devlin explained.
I grunted. Likely excuse.
“I wanted to make sure it was cool with you before I agreed,” Devlin said.
