“What are you doing?” I ask, my tone worn with fatigue and frustration.
“Unwrapping the furniture.” She sniffles, and I’m relieved to find myself immune to it—too consumed by my annoyance.
“I can do that,” I snap uncommittedly.
She spins. “And the floors? The heat? The lights? What about Ellie’s clothes? You want her to live out of boxes? They need to be hung up and neatly stacked in that fancy dresser up there. You have less than two days. Let me help you.” She swallows, eyes flicking around the room and voice dropping. “Like you said, I’ve got nowhere else to be.”
My chest falls and I growl. “Walked into that one.”
“It’s fine.” Her head snaps back to the piano like it keeps calling her. “And I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything until I tune this for you.” She pulls out the bench from under the piano and settles onto it.
Now you really do need to go.
A vision of Willow sitting at the piano in the bar in New York hits me all too aggressively. A vision that took days to get off my mind. Only for her to singe another one into my brain from my own home?
Over my dead body.
“I can’t let you do that.”
She runs her finger over the black top, it’s a little dusty but she doesn’t comment on it. She doesn’t even look at me. A flash of excitement and determination is in her eyes as she lifts the fallboard. “I’m not asking.”
Pushing up her sleeves, she wiggles her fingers and twists something gold and shiny on her ring finger. It looks a hell of a lot like an engagement ring. When she lets go, I get a better look at it. It’s a fancy-sized emerald sitting atop a gold band.
Sure doesn’t look like anything from this day and age. The back of my teeth clench as I berate myself for wanting to know. “You didn’t tell me you were going to marry the guy.”
Her eyes snap to mine. Then to her ring as she adjusts it again. “This was my grandmother’s. I recently had my jewelry stolen but I always keep this one with me.”
Anger coils in my chest before I can remind myself it’s none of my business—and I’m certainly not about to make it my business. So I don’t let myself linger on the relief that washes over me that she managed to save this piece—or the fact that it wasn’t a ringhegave her.
“Why you here?”
She lifts her eyes to the ceiling as if to come up with something. “To watch the sunset. I hear they’re incredible out here.”
They’re out of this world, actually. But I’m not about to give her a reason to stay. Especially when she’s bullshitting me.
I push my hands in my pockets. “They’re all right. Someone threatenin’ you?”
She rolls her eyes. “Are all you cowboys looking for a damsel to save?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a damsel, but I sure as hell know you’re not one.” If the way she tackled me the other night gives any indication.
“Got that right,” she mutters.
Stepping closer, I close the piano shut as she jerks her fingers back.
“I could have—”
“You’re too quick for that. Now you want to help me? Fine. Whatever you see fit—dusting, tuning, maybe unpacking Ellie’s boxes from her grandparents’ old house—go nuts. But on one condition.”
Her brows snap together. “I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you.’”
I clench my jaw and dip my head. “Tell me why you’re here.”
She hesitates as if measuring her options. Then gives in with a low sigh. “No one’s threatening me. My ex. The man I thought was the love of my life—” she rolls her eyes like the idea of it is a joke now, “had a little bit of a jealous streak. Would make it a habit of stalking me at work. I thought it was sweet he was coming to see me play. But he’d just cause a scene when I got too much attention. Got me fired from some of the best gigs in the city.”
“Guy sounds like an insecure ass.”
She scoffs. “He was.”
