Don’t ask me how I spend a day massaging an arthritic cow’s knees.
Just don’t.
I have the weirdest life sometimes.
But it’s a long day out in the boonies beyond the limits of Heart’s Edge, and I’m already tired—but I’ve still got a full night ahead. I drive my little purple people eater rental car as fast as I can to zoom back to Blake’s house to shower up and get ready.
By the time I’m finished and dragging on clean, warm clothes, there’s a knock at the door.
I don’t even have to look outside to recognize Ember’s car. Grabbing my guitar case and tumbling down the stairs, I open the door to find her bright-eyed and happy in a white fluffy peacoat and matching gloves and cap.
She doesn’t say anything, squealing with a grin.
So do I.
Tonight, it’s freaking happening.
We’re bouncing and hugging each other before tumbling into my car for the drive to the radio station.
It really does kind of feel like we’re in a movie.
Blake invited us in for more than bumper music, to play over the airwaves, where we’ll get picked up and broadcast not just locally, but as far as Spokane and Coeur d’Alene and Missoula and Seattle.
It’s exciting. Terrifying. Enthralling.
I can’t wait.
But as we buckle into the car, I glance over at Ember, who’s empty-handed.
“Hey,” I say. “Where’s your violin?”
She blinks, looking down at her hands as if she’s magically expecting the violin to appear out of nowhere. Her cheeks go bright pink.
“Oh my God,” she says. “I was so excited I left it at the clinic!”
I can’t help but laugh, too, even as I twist to shove my guitar into the back seat. “No worries. We’ve got a few minutes, and it’s on the way there. We’ll stop and pick it up.”
She flashes me a grateful smile—then holds on to the oh-shit handles as I back the purple people eater—that’s its official name now because snozzberry makes me feel like I’m going to sneeze every time I say it—out of Blake’s driveway, doing a little fishtail spin before we hit the road.
Ember lets out a whistle. “You handled that curve like a pro.”
“I’ve gotten used to it.” I laugh. “My car’s smaller than Blake’s, so I can pull off the easy tricks. Maybe my next gig will be a stunt car driver.”
That aches, though.
In ways it never has.
I’m so used to packing up and moving on when the work dries up or I just get the itch to be on the road, but…
Somehow, I haven’t started feeling that itch here.
I don’t think I want to leave.
“Hmm. Don’t think there’s much work for that kind of driver here, Peace. But if you’re ever hard up…we can always use an extra hand at The Menagerie.” Ember smiles at me.
“And let me lose my mind around those adorable animals all day?” I half-smile, my throat tight, touched at her offering even though I’m not hard up. “Thanks, but I’ve got plenty of work coming in. I always find something.”
“So you’re not staying?” she asks in the gentle way she has that seems to invite people to spill their souls out.
But it’s still hard for me to say it out loud.
Hard for me to admit.
“I…I kinda want to.” I bite my lip. “I think I want to stay with Blake.”
“Oh, Peace!” She lights up with a smile. “How are things going with him?”
“Maybe you tell me?” I whisper, my face flaming. “I mentioned the time he kissed me half to death, and I’ve been waiting for it to happen again…but I’m starting to worry he sees me like family. As in, blood family.”
She looks amused. “Nah, I don’t think he’d get all roid ragey in his brother’s face over you if he saw you like kin.”
“He might if he saw me the same way he sees his daughter. You know how he gets with Andrea and Clark. Totally overprotective.” I sigh deeply. “I mean, he apologized for that. For getting weird with Holt. And admitted he was jealous. And I told him he had no reason to be, and…”
That’s it.
Me, biting my lip like a schoolgirl waiting for the hottest boy ever to make a big move.
I groan, thunking my forehead on the steering wheel for a second before straightening up to keep the car on the road.
“He’s a tough nut to crack,” I mutter. “Every time I think I’m getting under his skin, he just pulls back, gets busy, like he’s trying real hard not to make a mistake with me.”
“It’s sweet,” she whispers. “Frustrating as blazes, but sweet that he cares. His first wife died, and he’s got a daughter to protect. Even if he’s ready to open up, old habits die hard.”
“I know,” I murmur, watching for her vet clinic’s sign. We’re getting close. “The thing is, I don’t want to push him so hard I break him.”