“Okay, bye, Daniel.” Piper hung up and fused her features with optimism, staunchly ignoring the bonfire taking place in her stomach. God, why did she feel so guilty? Having her stepfather come to Westport in the hopes of cutting their sabbatical short had been the plan all along. “All set!”
Hannah nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“Okay! And he said to give you a hug.” Piper crushed her sister to her chest, rocking her maniacally. “There you go.” She picked up her bag. “Shall we?”
When the sisters walked outside, Brendan and Fox were leaning against the running truck wearing identical scowls, as if they’d been arguing. Upon seeing Piper, Brendan’s face cleared, heat flaring in his eyes. “Good morning, Piper,” he greeted her gruffly.
“Good morning, Brendan.”
Piper couldn’t help but notice that Fox looked almost . . . nervous when he saw Hannah, his rangy frame pushing off the truck to reach for her backpack.
“Morning,” he said. “Take that for you?”
“No, thanks,” Hannah said, skirting past him and throwing it through the open window of the truck’s backseat. “I’ll hang on to it.”
Piper laughed. “My sister doesn’t part with her headphones.” She let Brendan take her bag and caught the lapel of his flannel, tugging him down for a kiss. He came eagerly, slanting their lips together and giving her the faint taste of his morning coffee. And in a move she found old school and endearing, he tugged off his beanie and used it to shield their faces from view. “Missed you,” she whispered, pulling away and giving him a meaningful look.
Brendan’s chest rumbled in response, and he damn near ripped the passenger-side door off the hinges, stepping back to help her inside. Fox and Hannah climbed into the rear cab, sitting as far apart as possible. Hannah’s backpack rested on the seat between them, making Piper wonder if there was some tension there her sister hadn’t told her about. Had she been so wrapped up in her own love life that she’d missed something important happening with Hannah? She vowed to remedy that at the earliest opportunity.
They were driving for five minutes before Piper noticed the address on the navigation screen. It included the name of a very upscale hotel. “Wait. That’s not where we’re staying, is it?”
Brendan grunted, turned onto the highway.
Marble bathtubs, Egyptian cotton, white fluffy robes, and flattering mood lighting danced in her head. “It is?” she breathed.
“Uh-oh. Someone is breaking out the big guns.” Hannah chuckled in the backseat. “Well played, Brendan.” Her voice changed. “Wait, but . . . how many rooms did you book?”
“I’m staying with Hannah,” Piper said preemptively, passing her sister an I-got-you-bitch look over the cab divider.
“Of course you are,” Brendan said easily. “I got three rooms. Fox and I will have our own. He gets enough of my snoring on the boat.”
Three rooms? A month ago, she wouldn’t even have considered the cost of staying the night at a luxury hotel. But she mentally calculated the price of everything now, right down to a cup of afternoon coffee. Three rooms at this hotel would be pricey. Well into the thousands. How much money did fishermen make, anyway? That hadn’t been part of her research.
She’d worry about it later. Right now, she was too busy being turned on by the thought of a room service cheese plate and complimentary slippers.
The captain really did have her figured out, didn’t he?
“I made a road-trip playlist,” Hannah said, leaning forward and handing Piper her phone. “I named it ‘Seattle Bound.’ Just hit shuffle, Pipes.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She plugged it into Brendan’s outlet. “I never question the DJ.”
“The Passenger” by Iggy Pop came on first. “That’s Bowie’s voice joining in on the chorus,” Hannah called over the music. “This song is about their friendship. Driving around together, taking journeys.” She sighed wistfully. “Can you imagine them pulling up next to you at a stoplight?”
“Is that what you’ll be shopping for at the expo?” Fox asked her. “Bowie?”
“Maybe. The beauty of record shopping is never knowing what you’ll leave with.” Animated by her favorite topic, Hannah sat forward, turning in the seat to face Fox. “They have to speak to you. More importantly, you have to listen.”
From behind her sunglasses, Piper watched the conversation with interest via the rearview mirror.
“Records are kind of like fine wine. Some studios had better production years than others. It’s not just the band, it’s the pressing. You can be as sentimental as you want about an album, but there’s a quality aspect, too.” She grinned. “And if you get a perfect pressing of an album you love, there’s nothing like that first note when the needle touches down.”
“Have you had that?” Fox asked quietly after a moment.
Hannah nodded solemnly. “‘A Case of You’ by Joni Mitchell. It was the first song I played on her Blue album. I’ve never been the same.”