Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Icy air blasted me in the face as I opened the front door, and I shut it as quietly as I could, so Zoe might be able to get a little more sleep. She’d lose her shit if she caught me leaving without her. Not like the bars or the liquor stores were open this early anyway.
The driveway was long, but that was part of what I loved about this property. Even if someone was dedicated enough to track me down, it was impossible for fans to gather at the front door.
My heart stumbled when I reached the road.
My guitars were gone.
“Fuck!” Thank God wildlife didn’t handle cell phones, because the deer munching their breakfast a dozen yards away had a stellar view of my tantrum.
I started back to the house, huffing a warm breath into my hands to warm them, all the while exhausting my mental list of curse words. Not only was that almost a hundred grand in equipment, but I’d have to send someone to my apartment to check the inventory there. There was no chance of me playing a guitar I’d never held before during a concert. None.
The smell of coffee filled the entry and grew stronger as I made my way into the kitchen.
Zoe sat at the kitchen island, her cell phone and planner both on the counter before her, going over today’s agenda as she took in her morning ration of caffeine.
That woman was as constant as the tide, but instead of it annoying the shit out of me, like it had a couple of months ago, it was almost…comforting now.
She didn’t so much as glance up as I made myself a cup of coffee.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said, by way of apology.
She lifted her eyebrows but kept those green eyes locked on her planner. “Seven words. My, how verbose you are this morning.”
“Got it. I’m an asshole.” I took the stool next to hers but didn’t crowd her.
“You’re something,” she said with a sigh. “And you didn’t wake me. The alarm did.” She tapped her phone a few times, bringing up the motion-activated camera footage of me leaving.
“You saw me leave?”
“Apparently.” She flipped to the back of her planner, where she kept her notes, found whatever she was looking for, and returned to the day’s agenda.
“And you didn’t come running after me.” It was a question and statement all in one.
“Nope. I figured you were either going for a run or wanted to test the patience of the local bear population. And let’s be honest, I’m not keeping you from a bar. You could have sneaked off whenever you wanted over the last two months.”
I tried to process her statement but kept getting hung up on the middle of it. “Wait, there are bears around here?”
She tilted her head, then sighed so hard the pages moved. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”
Okay, fans I could handle, but bears? I was liking this property a little less now. “I may have caused a problem,” I said slowly, the words tasting like vinegar on my tongue.
“Oh?” She sipped her coffee and flipped the page to tomorrow, where she already had sound check and a radio station interview blocked out before the show.
“Well, it’s trash day.”
“No, it’s not.”
My brow puckered. “Yeah. It is. Thursday is trash day.”
“Nope.” She tapped the little sticker on the top of tomorrow’s page with the icon of a trash can. “It’s tomorrow. Which probably explains why there were no cans out on the street when you went to see if you could salvage your guitars.”
I blinked. Of course she knew. If I’d been capable of embarrassment, I probably would have turned red, but that ship had sailed years ago—the first time a fan had posted naked pictures of me passed out in a hotel.
“Let me guess, your guitars are missing?” she asked, scanning between her phone and the planner, then narrowing her eyes at her phone. “Who the hell added that?”
“I wouldn’t say they’re missing as much as I would acknowledge that they’re not where I left them.” I leaned over slightly to see what had her confused.
“There’s a meeting added before tomorrow’s show, but I didn’t put it there. This is why I keep my own planner.” She shook her head. “So, someone took the guitars you tossed out like trash? Shocking.”
“Right.” Despite my current lack of guitars, I almost laughed. She’d managed to throw sass at me without so much as looking in my direction. Even her profile was beautiful. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a knot, exposing the long lines of her neck and the stubborn set of her chin. “Unless you think the bears—”
Now she shot some side-eye my way.
“No? Okay. Then yes, someone took the guitars I tossed out like trash.” I repeated her words verbatim, minus her sarcastic tone.