“The only understanding here is your one-track mind, Mom.”
“Well, my one-track mind got me a penthouse on Park Avenue, six number-one bestsellers, and my independence. Your big heart and open mind got you kicked out ofsixfive-star venue gigs and a job as a nanny for a family you don’t know.”
You forgot to mention kicked out of my ex’s apartment.
I blink away the sting in my eyes. Glancing back at the house built for someone else.
“They need me, Mom.”
She sighs again, this time with a sliver of sympathy. “Everyone needs something, Willow. But when will you start taking care of your own needs?”
“Maybe I am,” I mutter. But she doesn’t miss it.
“Is this about the man?”
“No.” How can it be about some brooding cowboy with a stone-set jaw and no-nonsense scowl?
Very easily—that’s how. If my response to that throaty, domineering tone has anything to say about it.
“Good. Plenty of time to think about it later. You fall in love now, you lose everything.”
“How’s that?”
“Use your imagination, sweetheart. Look at what love got you so far.”
I think about my self-defense class. My belongings gone. My pride and self-esteem with it. My heart sinks. The reminder to keep my guard up is like a slap in the face. “No one’s falling in love here, Mom,” I assure her half-heartedly.
“All right then. Love you lots. Take care. Call me when you’re coming home.”
Somehow, herhomedoesn’t sound as welcoming as the one Rose referred to earlier.
It may not be mine, but there’s a little family counting on me to make it theirs.
My lips curl into a smile.So I’d better get to work.
I sweep the dust off the top of the piano mid-song. It’s not often I get to play during the day. But the house is quiet. Clean. And now—dustless. And the view is unparalleled, pulling me under some Blue River spell. As if this town, and everything in it, is magical. My fingers keep moving across the piano keys—steady and sure. Grandma would be proud if she saw me now. She used to watch my eyes, making sure I only glanced down every so often, keeping my eyes on the pages of the song instead, or closed when it felt right with the song.
Something about this view makes me rethink a windowless in-home recording studio—one I’ve kept outlined in my head for the last two years. Windows or glass doors usually let in unwanted noise from outside, but if I had a view half as remarkable as this one, I’d figure out a way. Heck, if I could afford it, I’d keep a piano in the living room to write music and another one in the studio to record.
It makes my chest open up, the notes and words pouring out. Like I’m singing to more than just a roomful of patrons, or the sticky stain on top of the instrument from some thoughtless guest. It’s almost a reminder to keep that big picture in mind. Not check the time for when my set is over.
I release a breath and let my fingers rest for a moment.
Other than a few texts from Dallas earlier, I haven’t heard from him.
But I know he’s been home. Because at some point—either while I was out with Rose in the morning or with Wes when he picked me up for lunch—several packages were brought into the house. Including the mattresses for the guest rooms.
I once again slept in Dallas’s bed last night—brand-new space heater and all. And I didnotspend the night debating if I should go down for a cup of tea.
The man is officially my employer. I shouldn’t be thinking about his abs—or the V-shape lines that dip out of sight beneath his jeans.
I need to focus on thepointof this whole thing. And it’s not “to test my willpower.”
It’s to keep Ellie where she belongs.
With Dallas.
He’s nervous about Cole.I’mnervous about Cole. Ellie’s too excited to have this all taken away. It wouldn’t be fair.
