Page 17 of The Perfect Melody

“Oh, no. I think the charm skipped me. Besides, I’ve given up on dating.” I didn’t mean to share something so personal—it just slipped out. Esther’s dangerously easy to talk to.

Her eyebrows arch towards her hairline. “You’re, what, twenty-something?” she guesses.

“Twenty-four,” I confirm.

“Now’s the time to be out there breaking hearts and falling in love.”

“Maybe.”

Sensing my discomfort, she switches back to our original topic of conversation. “What kind of music do you play?”

“Country, mostly.”

“Really? There’s a country music festival just outside of town every July. Your booking said you might like to extend your stay with us—you should check out the festival if you do. There’s always an open-mic tent too if you’d be interested in performing.”

“No performing for me, but I’ll be sure to check out the festival if I’m still here by then.”

“Well, here we are, room eight.” Esther takes the key from me and unlocks the door, pushing it open so I don’t have to battle with my bags again.

I drop them just inside the door, then turn back to take my guitar and room key from her. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Enjoy your stay.”

The door clicks shut behind her, and then I’m left alone, truly alone for the first time in years. No bodyguard in the next room. No glam squad staying across the hall. No eager fans waiting out on the street hoping to catch a glimpse of me. For a few breaths, I simply stand with my back to the door, letting that sink in. I’malone. A giddy giggle rises up my throat like champagne bubbles, and I instinctively slap a hand over my mouth to smother my reaction before remembering there’s nobody around to hear me.

I push myself off the smooth grain of the wooden door at my back and slowly take in the details of my new accommodation—after all, there’s no reason to rush. For the first time in a long time, my schedule is wide open instead of tightly packed and dictated by my mother. I can take as long as I want, and nobody will say a damn thing. The room is cute, if a little old-fashioned. Floral-patterned paper adorns the top half of each wall. Matching dusty-rose lampshades trimmed with cream fringing cover a set of lamps on the small tables either side of the double bed. Cream and pink bedding and four perfectly plump pillows make the bed look inviting, and the sturdy walnut frame fits the rest of the B&B’s homey aesthetic. It’s a far cry from the swanky hotel rooms I’ve called home these past few months on tour—I love it.

The bed is calling my name, but I’ll only feel worse if I give in to sleep so early. Besides, now that I’ve dropped off my bags, I should go back to Bowman’s and help clean up the mess I made. After a quick rummage through my suitcase, I pull out a fresh t-shirt and change. A glance inside the wardrobe reveals a small safe.Perfect.

My coat is at the top of my backpack, taking up most of the space, with a book, an assortment of snacks, a couple of cross-stitch kits, and my stash of cash nestled underneath. Knowing I’ll need the coat if I’m heading out again, I leave it on the foot of the bed, then put eight hundred pounds in the little safe. The remaining two hundred pounds goes into my handbag to give to Austin. Maybe I should give Austin more upfront, but the cash I brought with me was supposed to cover all my meals outside of breakfast for the next month. I don’t eat lunch often, usually opting for a light snack instead, but I’ll still need dinner every night, whether I eat out or bring something from the store back to the B&B. I have no idea what tips might be like at Bowman’s, and the last thing I need is to run out of money. It’s best to be cautious.

Now my money is secure, I toss my backpack into the bottom of the wardrobe so it’s out of the way. Part of me wants to unpack and settle into the space I’ll be calling home for the foreseeable future, but I won’t be able to relax until I start making things right with Austin and Abby at the bar. I close my suitcase and leave it propped in front of the wardrobe to deal with later.

I grab my coat and keys, then make my way out, waving at Esther as I pass the reception desk. The rainfall is heavier now, matching my mood perfectly, so I pull up my hood and shove my hands in my pockets. Hopefully helping Austin clean up the aftermath of my accident will be a good start on getting into my new boss’s good graces. A wry laugh escapes me. This trip is turning out to be a complete disaster. The only bright side I can see at present is that working at Bowman’s is the last place my mother will think to look for me. Assuming I can hold on to the job, given I have absolutely no experience—unless you count playing a waitress on TV. Hopefully joining whatever trainingAustin’s putting the rest of his team through will prepare me for my first real shift without it being too obvious that I have no idea what I’m doing. If not, whatever goodwill I might garner by returning to help today will disappear in the blink of an eye.

Chapter Eight

Austin

My t-shirt clingsto my skin thanks to the rain that began as a light drizzle and has steadily grown heavier while I’ve been cleaning up what’s left of my beer garden. I’m not cold though—my anger and frustration are keeping me plenty warm enough. I should have known something like this would happen. While there are still plenty of smaller tasks to complete before the grand reopening of Bowman’s, all the major work has gone ahead on schedule and without a hitch so of course I was worried something I couldn’t foresee happening would crop up at the last moment. A woman as attractive as she is clueless literally crashing into my outdoor seating area certainly fits the bill.

A muscle in my jaw twitches with my irritation as I glare at the two piles I’ve made—one Reggie agreed to take to the tip in his work van, and one with larger pieces of my picnic tables that I’m hoping to salvage and rebuild. Mum wanted to help, but I sent her back inside to finish looking over the new menus.

Picking up another broken plank of wood destined for the skip pile, I almost don’t hear the quiet voice over the rain.

“Hi, it’s Austin, right?”

If I pretend I haven’t heard her, will she go away? I throw the wood onto the pile with the rest of the unsalvageable parts, and she squeaks in surprise.

Taking a deep breath so I don’t immediately bite her head off, I turn to face her. “What do you want?” Hardly a good show of manners, but it’s the most cordial attitude I can muster under the circumstances.

“I came back to help with the mess, but it looks like you’re almost done.”

Surprised she returned to help when I was half convinced we’d never see her again despite her offer to work off the cost of repairs, I stare at her. She’s wearing a coat, but it’s not waterproof, and droplets of rain cling to the fabric and drip from the edge of the hood that frames her pale face. Her baby-blue eyes are so wide they look like they belong on a cartoon princess from one of the films my little sister used to make me watch when we were younger.

“Yeah, this is as good as it’s going to get for now. Not much more I can do until I order new materials.”

“Right.” She rocks back on her heels, looking uncertain.