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  “I want you to concentrate on getting yourself straight before you even begin to think about me.”

  Louie didn’t like the sound of her mom’s evasive answer. “You still believe I can do this, don’t you?”

  “I haven’t a doubt in the world, Noodle. But I need you to do this for yourself, not me. I’ve put up with my lot this long; a few more years won’t make a lick of difference.”

  “Mom, give me a straight answer. Will you join me when the time comes?” Louie wondered if her mom’s misplaced sense of loyalty to a father who never showed any emotion other than disappointment would pull her to stay until he died. “We can find a retirement home for grandpa. You don’t owe him anything more than that.” Putting a roof over their heads was about all he’d ever done for them.

  Her mom sighed deeply. “I’ll be there, I promise. For now, focus on writing the best songs you can for Savana Hayes. It’s so exciting that you’re working with one of the greats.”

  Louie swallowed the other questions and doubts she had for now and allowed the sledgehammer-subtle subject change. “I can’t believe I’ve hit so lucky, Mom. She had the pick of every writer in Nashville and she went for me, an untested novice.”

  “She obviously knows talent when she sees it. Those songs you wrote for Gabe are fabulous. They made me want to take him home and mother him for the rest of his life.”

  “Ha. Wait till you meet him, Mom. You’ll love him.” She stopped herself from saying he was like the brother she’d never had. Her mom had suffered a miscarriage only a year before she had Louie, one week after she’d discovered she was having a boy. Louie often wondered if her father had left because he couldn’t face losing another child. She was probably cutting him way too much slack, but in the darkest moments when she thought about him and why he’d abandoned them, she found a little comfort in that excuse.

  “I’m sure. He sounds adorable. Hey, is Savana still seeing Chip Jackson? I’ve always wondered why they don’t get married.”

  Louie picked at a fleck of peeling paint on her chair. “I have no idea, and there’s no way I’m asking. If she tells me anything without prompting, I’ll let you know.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  Louie smiled at the sound of laughter in her mom’s voice. It’d been too long since they’d seen each other, and she longed for the kind of hug only her mom gave. “And you’re a gossip.”

  Gabe appeared at the patio door with a massive smile and his guitar in hand. Louie nodded and held up a finger to indicate he should wait.

  “Mom, I’ve got to go. I’m going to record Gabe singing a cover for his Facebook page. I’ll let you know when it’s up, and you can take a look, okay?”

  “Sure, Noodle. Have fun, and don’t forget to keep sending me plenty of photos.”

  “Will do, Mom. I love you.”

  “I love you, Noodle.”

  Louie clicked off, feeling slightly awkward about Gabe being present to witness the loving exchange with her mom. He didn’t seem to react though, so she stood and gestured inside the house. “Let’s find the perfect place to make your first video.”

  Gabe grinned. “I’ve got the perfect song. ‘There Goes My Everything.’ What do you think?”

  “The seventies song that Jack Greene and Elvis Presley covered?”

  “Yeah, but with my take on it. Do you think it’ll work?”

  Louie clapped Gabe on the shoulder and hurt her hand a little in the process. His physique was enviable and made her wonder what kind of body Heather appreciated most. “You’re right. It’s perfect. You’re tipping your hat to the greats. I love it.” As Louie followed Gabe back into the house to find the best uncluttered space, she found herself thinking about what Heather might be doing right now. She checked her phone to discover a text from Heather had come in while she was on the phone to her mom; I wanted 2 kiss U 2. I’m sorry I’m such an ass. I promise I’ll b worth it. She tried to temper the soaring feeling in her heart, but thumbed a quick response. I was just thinking about u x I know things are complicated. Sometimes the right people come into your life when u think it’s the wrong time. I know u’ll be worth waiting for. It didn’t deliver and Louie’s disappointment tugged at her initial optimism, but it didn’t quell it completely. There was a ray of hope, and that’s all Louie needed.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Heather paced the office space nervously. Savana had specifically requested a top floor corner writing room for her and Louie to work, and that had resulted in the head of business affairs being “asked” to move to a different office. When he stomped in at nine a.m. to find everything had been moved, he’d termed the new space a “closet” and was further disgruntled when Heather explained that he’d have to put up with it for a month, possibly more. Closet was an inaccurate comparison since his new office was nearly two hundred square feet. It did lack the enviable floor-to-ceiling windows, but Heather had little sympathy for him otherwise. Her own office was big enough to fit her desk and two chairs for visitors, and if she were vulgar enough to try, she could probably spit and hit the wall opposite her desk.

  In order to meet the requirements of the detailed list Joe had emailed her at one a.m., she’d been in the building since six and was on her third coffee by ten. She surveyed her hurried hard work and sipped on the milky drink, wishing she liked it stronger because she could use a more intense caffeine hit. She’d had to move practically all of the furniture herself, and her energy was running low since she’d only managed around three hours of sleep.

  The sandman’s call had been muted by Heather thinking about making love with Louie. She’d given in to the temptation around two a.m., put fresh batteries in one of her trusty vibrators, and settled under the comforter to imagine Louie making love to her. She’d been soft and gentle, taking her time to discover everything that turned Heather on. When Heather’s silicone bullet finally gave her release, imaginary Louie had already exhausted her with five consecutive orgasms.

  Her cell buzzed and drew her back into reality.

  “Heather, I feel terrible. I think I ate some bad shrimp last night, and I’m paying for it. I’ve been up sick since three a.m., and I just can’t face coming in today.”

  Heather fell back into one of the overstuffed suede sofas that had been top of Joe’s list, closed her eyes, and forced out a carefree tone. “That’s no problem, Savana. Do you need anything sent over?”

  “Joe’s taking care of everything on this end, thanks. I hope you haven’t worked too hard on his list for the writing studio?”

  Heather looked around the office. “Don’t worry. It was no trouble.”

  “I’ve jerked a knot in his tail for emailing you so late. You’re not his personal assistant, and I’m sorry he did that. He swears he won’t do it, or anything like it, again.”

  Heather smiled, grateful that the list wasn’t at her behest and for the promise of it not happening again. “I sure would appreciate that. Would you like me to let Louie know she shouldn’t come in?” Heather couldn’t suppress her disappointment that she wouldn’t be seeing her today but tried to keep it from tingeing her voice.

  “I’d still like her to come in. Joe’s going to email you some song ideas I’ve had, and she can start working on them. We talked yesterday about tone and tempo. I can’t see why I won’t be in tomorrow. Joe’s already stocked the place with saltine crackers, bananas, and electrolyte drinks. I’ll be as good as new in the morning if I rest up all day.”

  Heather perked up at Savana’s instruction. “Sounds like he’s good at looking after you.”

  “He’s had so much practice over the years, he should be. Anyway, have a great day, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Will do. Feel better soon.” Heather ended the call, jumped up, and danced a jig around the room, ending at the windows with a double fist pump.

  “Celebrating something?”

  Oh, crap. Heather turned to the door to see an amused looking Louie leaning against the doorja
mb, looking sexy as all hell in a tight gray T-shirt and loose jeans hitched on her hips. A rainbow-striped TomboyX waistband showed above them. Her mouth felt as dry as the heart of a haystack when she realized she was staring and hadn’t responded to Louie’s question. “Nice T-shirt,” she said, floundering for an explanation as to why she was dancing around like the women in pink hats on Louie’s shirt.

  “Thanks.” She pulled it away from her chest and looked down at it. “It’s to commemorate the first anniversary of the global Women’s March movement.”

  “That’s cool.” And I am not. “You voted Hilary, then?”

  Louie raised an eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth turned up in a half smile. “Didn’t you?”

  Heather moved away from the window and sat on the arm of the couch, trying to feign a flirtatious confidence she didn’t feel. “What do you think?”

  Louie pushed off the door and closed it behind her. Three hundred square feet seemed to shrink to the mere few yards of plush carpet between them, and Heather couldn’t be sure whether she was glad Louie had shut them in or whether it made her want to bolt faster than a sneeze through a screen door.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Louie took a few steps toward her, reducing the space between them and apparently Heather’s ability to speak. Unable to think of a valid excuse and with her lack of words becoming far right of embarrassing, Heather simply laughed. “I’m not about to give you answers to everything you ask, Louie Francis.”

  Louie shrugged, placed her guitar case on the large wooden table, and flopped down into the sofa opposite Heather. “Why not? Do you have secrets to hide?”

  Heather bit her lip to stop the conversation disintegrating into total flirtation. “Savana can’t make it today, but she wants you to get started anyway.” She ignored Louie’s head shake at her patent avoidance tactic and walked to the display cabinet that had held golf trophies a few hours ago. She picked up her iPad and tapped in the security code. “Joe’s sending me some song ideas Savana’s come up with, and she wants you to start working on them yourself.” Heather rested her butt on the counter on the cabinet where the previous occupant’s liquor stash had been replaced by a tray of small bottles of mineral water. She flicked through to her emails and kept snatching sneaky glances of Louie over her screen. If her current reaction to Louie’s presence was an indicator of her ability to resist succumbing to Louie’s considerable charms, Heather was screwed. Louie probably wasn’t even trying to be so delightful since her response to Emma’s text indicated she was happy to stick to Heather’s schedule. Shame Heather didn’t know what that schedule was.

  Louie unclipped her case, pulled out her guitar, and began to fine-tune it. “Will you be staying with me?”

  God, I’d love to. Heather wanted to abandon the past five years of celibacy with a flick of the privacy glass from transparent to opaque and let Louie make music with her body instead of a guitar. “I’d be of no help. Songwriting isn’t one of my talents.”

  “Behind every songwriter is a stunning source of inspiration. You could be my muse.”

  I’d like to be more than your muse. Heather motioned to Louie’s Gibson. “That’s a beautiful guitar. Is it the one your mom bought for you?” Louie smiled in a way that said, “That’s the way this is going to go, is it?” for every tactless change of subject Heather would have to instigate.

  “It is.” Louie held it up. “Do you want to take a closer look?”

  Heather sighed. Why did every sentence have to mean something else? There was no way she was moving any closer to Louie. One whiff of her hot and spicy scent, and Heather was certain she’d be jumping on Louie faster than white on rice. “I don’t trust myself—it looks expensive. I’ll admire it from afar. What’s it made of?” Heather knew little of guitars or their construction. Her knowledge ended at whether or not they were in tune, but she hoped it might be a safer conversation.

  Louie looked amused but answered anyway. “The body is maple, the neck’s made from mahogany, and the fretboard is rosewood.”

  Heather pressed on, repeatedly flicking at the refresh button and willing Joe’s email to arrive so she could leave Louie to her writing and get back to trying to be a professional. “It’s got an old-fashioned look to it. What color is it?”

  “I like the traditional styling, and the official color name is ‘antique burst.’ Do you play?” Louie asked.

  Heather shook her head and tried not to focus on the slender strength of Louie’s fingers as she turned the tuning knobs at the head of the guitar. “I’d like to, but I never seem to have the time to learn. I don’t really get time to do anything much other than work.”

  “Maybe you’d let me teach you?”

  Heather nearly laughed out loud. No matter the topic, it seemed impossible for it not to degenerate into double meaning. “I’d like that.” It seemed like an innocent enough reason to spend more time with Louie while they were working together. She looked down at her iPad again and was relieved to see the promised email from Joe. “Here it is,” she said with far too much enthusiasm and hoped Louie wouldn’t misinterpret it. She turned away rather than try to read Louie’s expression and switched on the portable printer she’d situated on the cabinet shelf, as per Joe’s requirement. She printed the contents of Joe’s email twice, a copy for each of them, and looked back in time to see Louie jerk her head upward, clearly guilty of checking out Heather’s ass while her back was turned. They exchanged a knowing look, and Heather was glad no one else was around to witness Louie’s visual grope. She smoothed nonexistent lines from her skirt and ventured toward Louie. She handed Louie the papers, careful to ensure there was no accidental-on-purpose touching of fingers or romantic comedy electric sparks.

  “Thanks,” Louie said and began to flick through them.

  Heather sighed, aware she should leave and yet unable to pull herself away now that she was within Louie’s magnetic range. She was about to excuse herself when her cell rang, and she saw Savana’s ID come up. “Hi, Savana. How’re you doing?”

  “A little better. Did you get Joe’s email?”

  Heather smiled at Savana’s expectation that her whole working day revolved around her requirements. “I did. Louie is just reading through it now.”

  “She’s there already? That’s a good sign. Would you put her on for me?”

  “Of course.” Heather handed her phone to Louie and sat on the edge of the antique chaise longue she’d had to temporarily steal from Donny’s office because Savana had commented on it. Louie looked fully focused on the paperwork she was laying out on top of her guitar case, and Heather took advantage of the moment to simply stare at her with unabashed longing and let the phone conversation fade into the distance. She couldn’t attribute her behavior to the fact that she hadn’t been with a woman for so long or to the undeniable truth that she found Louie sexually attractive in a visceral, instinctual way that she’d never experienced before. Right now, she didn’t care to analyze it much. The time would come when the first flurry of initial fascination would fade and other considerations would have to come into play: did they have anything in common? Were they compatible beyond the bedroom? Did her heart ache to be with her again after they’d parted?

  Louie scribbled on the pages with a fountain pen, something Heather liked because it seemed so much more romantic and creative than a boring ballpoint. She pulled out a travel-sized leather journal from her guitar case and made more notes, and Heather took the time to watch the delicate formation of words from Louie’s ink. Her hands looked strong and capable, not surprising since the guitar was such a dexterously demanding mistress. She expected that the fingertips of Louie’s left hand would be hardened from the constant pressing of steel strings against the fretboard and wondered how her fingers would feel caressing Heather’s skin. What Heather could see of the rest of Louie looked damn fine. She wasn’t skinny, as Emma had said, but she wasn’t particularly muscular either. Heather wished Louie was wearing
a V-neck as she had when they’d first met so she could spend some time appraising her skin and the contours of her chest. But she had to satisfy herself with imagination instead, and she was desperate to explore every curve and angle of Louie’s body to commit them to memory. She was definitely gathering enough sensory info to fuel tonight’s engagement with her silicone companion. She figured she might as well buy some batteries in bulk as her vibrating ally might be the only thing between her and sexual insanity.

  “Heather?”

  Louie’s voice brought her around from her dreamy musings, and she focused on Louie holding out her phone. She accepted it, expecting to continue with Savana, but she’d already gone. “All set?” Heather rose from her chair reluctantly.

  “Savana wants you to keep me company.” She smiled mischievously and wiggled her eyebrows.

  “Really?” Heather failed to contain her surprise. “Why? I’m of no help, surely?”

  Louie shrugged and tilted her head slightly. “You should be more confident. Savana values your opinion. She’s sure that you know what sound she’s looking for, and she said it’s the next best thing to her being here.”

  Heather couldn’t resist a self-congratulatory smile, again reminded that Savana had asked for her personally and that it was a condition of her signing with Rocky Top. She still wasn’t quite sure why Savana placed such trust in her, but it sure felt good to be believed in. But Savana’s faith meant a full day in Louie’s company with no buffer. How was she supposed to control herself against such temptation? “Tim and Vetti.”

  “Sorry?” Louie asked, clearly not understanding.

  “Tim and Vetti. I’m going to get them. Six ears are better than two. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  Louie grinned, and Heather’s gaze fell to Louie’s lips.

  “You know, I can just about control myself around you. There’s no need to fetch yourself a couple of chaperones,” Louie said, as she leaned back in the sofa and put her foot on the table.