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“The only thing I did was comply with the contract your manager provided. Home Grown didn’t contact you. You contacted us. So from where I stand”—with a seriously pissed off cat in my arms—“it looks like you did all the staging yourself. It’s your bad luck that the other players didn’t follow your script.” Randolph Scott’s growl rose to a yowl. “And if I were you, I’d stand back. Randolph Scott really doesn’t like you, and you know nothing about cats if you think anybody can control them.”
Nash stopped a step above the landing, obviously trying to further intimidate Casey by looming. But Casey had been loomed over by Donald Friel for years. Nash Tambling was a rank amateur.
“You poisoned Dev against me.”
“I didn’t even know you until yesterday. I didn’t even know Dev had been with the band. So this isn’t on me. You’re the one who let him go when he needed you most.”
“What about my needs?”
Casey pushed off the wall, teeth bared in a grin that probably bordered on feral. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” He marched down the rest of the stairs and whispered to Randolph Scott, “I’ve always wanted to say that!”
“Dude, wait up!” Owen barreled down the stairs, passing Nash without a sideways glance. “Are Dev and Haru really playing together?”
“Yup. In less than twenty minutes now.”
“Awesome! Let’s go see.”
Casey let Owen bound out the door ahead of him and then looked up at the seething Nash. “If you don’t want to disappoint your fans and trash your own reputation, I suggest you find Haru after his set. If you apologize very nicely, you might still have a guitarist for what might be POV’s last performance. Now, you’ll have to excuse me. My boyfriend is about to play a song he wrote for me and I don’t want to miss it.”
“What about my bed?” Nash shrieked. “My pillows?”
“Extras are in the linen closet,” Casey called over his shoulder as he set Randolph Scott down. “Make your bed and lie in it.” He opened the door and let the cat scamper out ahead of him.
“Dude!” Owen beckoned to him from the driveway. “We don’t want to miss ’em.”
“Don’t worry. I know a shortcut.”
He led Owen down the path toward the summer kitchen, where the aroma of rustic fruit tarts wafted out the open windows and a burst of laughter followed them into the woods behind the building. When Casey reached the willow tree and pushed inside, with both Owen and Randolph Scott sticking to his heels, he found Ty and Kenny already there.
“Hey, guys.”
Kenny grinned. “I see you’ve discovered the best seat in the house, too.”
Heat rushed up Casey’s throat when he remembered exactly how he’d discovered it and what he was doing the last time he was here. “I, um, may have. Did we miss anything?”
“Nope,” Ty said. “They’re just setting up.”
Kenny chuckled. “My high school shop guys are chuffed to be roadies. They think it makes them extra cool.”
“Roadies are the best.” Owen gestured to himself. “I’m Owen Mosley. Drummer.”
Ty nodded a greeting. “Ty Harrison. Town vet.”
Owen turned to Kenny and thrust out his hand with a wide grin and a double bounce on his toes.
With a slightly panicked glance at Casey—yeah, Owen’s enthusiasm could be a lot—Kenny shook Owen’s proffered hand. “Kenny Li. Handyman.”
“Seriously?” The look on Owen’s face was something usually reserved for kids at Christmas when they discovered a new bike under the tree. “You can fix things?”
“Yeah.” Kenny exchanged a mystified glance with Casey and Ty. “This is New England. Our motto is ‘Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.’ So fixing things is kind of our way of life.”
“That’s awesome. The only thing I can fix is guacamole. Oh, and margaritas.” He smiled a little shyly. “No patience.”
“Owen,” Casey said with a smile, “I suspect you’re a product person at heart.”
“I think I’m more a guy who hires the right person to do the job.” He bumped Kenny’s shoulder with his own. “’Cause when it comes to fixing shit? I know that’s sure not me.” He glanced at Ty and said kindly, “I’m sure vets do great stuff too.”
Casey was tempted to see if he could fan Owen’s obvious attraction spark. Kenny was so nice. He deserved a great boyfriend, and while Owen was more like one of the big, exuberant puppies in Ty’s shelter, he had a good heart.
