Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Ellie
Another day, another town, and another crowded festival. It’s been non-stop this summer. It seems like everyone is having fun at these things except for us.
My quartet has been booked solid. The money has been great, but the wheels are starting to fall off of our little foursome.
We started Angelic Divine three years ago. I met Sloane, Tessa, and Mira at St. Elara School of Music and Fine Arts, a prestigious music conservatory we attended in our early twenties. We played together for a project once, and our sounds fit so well together that we decided to form a quartet.
I play the harp, been playing it since I was six years old. I touched one in my grandmother’s basement twenty-one years ago and since then, not one day has passed that I haven’t touched the smooth, taut strings of a harp. My mom even brought one with us on our vacations.
Sloane plays the violin. She’s the one who got us all together in the first place, but she’s getting more and more checked out.
I think she wants to move on and settle down with her fiancé.
She hasn’t said anything yet, but I suspect she wants to start trying to have a baby.
I can tell by the way she acts whenever we see newborns or little toddlers running around.
She gets so happy and misty-eyed. Our days with Sloane are numbered.
And then there’s Tessa and Mira. If Sloane leaves, we’re toast. I can’t handle those two on my own. Tessa plays the cello and Mira sings and plays the Bodhrán, which is a handheld frame drum. They’re always at each other’s throats. I’m getting so sick of being the peacekeeper of the group.
I’m getting sick of traveling too. Every weekend, another small town, another crappy motel, another diner with nothing healthy on the menu. It’s exhausting. And listening to Tessa and Mira bicker and argue constantly is just so draining.
I hear them argue, and then after I hear Tessa venting about Mira, and then I hear Mira venting about Tessa. I’m the sounding board to all of their issues and it’s getting unbearable. I want out.
“Not these guys again,” Tessa says as we walk onto the festival grounds. “These are the carnies that were in Holbrook.”
“Oh yeah,” Mira says, looking around. “They had the creepy guy that was always hitting on Ellie. What was his name?”
“Cooter,” I say, cringing as I look around for him. He didn’t leave me alone the entire day. It was horrible.
I pull my large harp case closer to my body as we hurry to the stage. Hopefully, we can get set up and start playing before he notices that I’m here. After that, we can make a quick getaway.
That guy was uber sleazy. He smelled like cheap beer and chewing tobacco and kept winking at me and calling me sweetheart. I still remember how his crooked gold tooth sparkled with the sun every time he said something that made my skin crawl.
We make it to the back of the stage without any carnies spotting us and we start to unload our gear.
“Here’s the setlist,” Mira says, handing out cue cards.
Tessa’s forehead scrunches up when she looks it over. Oh crappers, here we go.
“I thought we agreed to open with a slow ballad,” Tessa says, already worked up. “That way we can ease the crowd into it.”
“We need to start with something upbeat,” Mira says, dismissing her. “The setlist is already in ink so there’s no changing it now.”
Sloane just rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone to text her fiancé. She’s already over this. We used to diffuse the Tessa-Mira bombs together, but now I’m on my own dealing with all the crazy.
“You always do this,” Tessa says, crumpling the paper up in her fist. “We should make decisions together. As a group.”
“You just want to start with a slow ballad because it features your cello,” Mira spits out venomously. “It’s selfish, Tessa.”
“Did you seriously just call me selfish?” Tessa spits back. “You’re the one who selfishly insists on taking the spotlight, dancing and standing in front of me all the time.”
“I’m the singer!” Mira says as I drop my head and sigh.
“We’re a quartet!” Tessa says with her voice rising. “Each one an equal participant.”
“Guys,” I say, trying to calm this crazy train down. “We’re going to be on in seven minutes. Can we not?”
I look to Sloane for help, but she’s not even paying attention. She has a big smile on her face as she reads a text. She’s not even listening. Man, I wish I had a hot fiancé to distract me from all this…
“You always think you’re better than us,” Tessa says, dragging up any ammunition she can chuck at Mira. “You think you run the group.”
“I do run the group!” Mira snaps. “Did you bother to write out a set list or book the motel or look up the address to this place? No, you do shit all and then you bitch about everything.”
“Maybe I would if you weren’t such a control freak!”
“Hey!” I shout so loud their eyes snap over to me. “That’s enough! We’re on the job here. Act professional.”
How did I become the only adult in the room? Why am I always the referee? How is any of this my job?
I grab all of the set lists and start editing them with my pen. “We’ll play good 4 u first and that way we’ll open with a bang and Tessa has a moment to shine.”
Neither of them say anything as I hand the altered cue cards back. “Now, can we please hold the fighting until we’re in the van driving back to the inn at least?”
They both give each other dirty looks, but they drop it for now.
I’m so sick of this. I want out.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I say, sticking my finger at one than the other. “No fighting while I’m gone.”
They’ll probably start up again, but I’m out of patience. I’m too frustrated to care.
I sigh when I see the lineup at the porta-potties. I hate these things and I’ve been in and out of them all summer long.
I doubt the harp player in the Philharmonic Orchestra has to go to the bathroom in a gross, unsanitary portable toilet while she’s at work.
I need stability. I can’t do this on-the-road bullshit anymore. I’m not in a punk rock band and I have no desire to join one.
But where else can I do this? There aren’t exactly any job openings for a harp player in Pleasant Hill, where I’m from. It’s a small and uninspiring town, which neither has a hill nor is pleasant. It’s not like they have any job openings for a harp player in the tiny diner or the local Walmart.
I don’t want to move to a big city either. I’d rather live in a warm, friendly place like this.
I smile as I wait in line and look around at all for the happy townspeople enjoying the festival.
The kids are adorable and look so excited all done up with sparkly face paint and munching on cotton candy.
This town is the cutest we’ve been too on our tour with all of the fun shops and cool restaurants and the most majestic, spectacular mountains surrounding it.
I never thought about settling down in Montana, but I could see myself living here. I don’t think I would ever get sick of gazing up at these beautiful mountains.
My eye lingers on a young couple with the most adorable toddler sitting on the grass. The kid is savagely attacking an ice cream cone while the mom films and the dad unsuccessfully tries to wipe him down with a napkin.
I smile as I watch them, wondering if that could be my life. Can I have a version of that?
A husband… A child…
I get a little choked up as the thought lingers.
Probably not. I’m twenty-seven and I’ve never even had a boyfriend. I’m a long way from having all that.
“Oh shit,” I mutter when I see Cooter coming over. I try to hide behind the man in front of me, but it’s too late. The creep spotted me.
“Sweetheart,” he says, flashing me that crooked gold tooth.
Ew. He’s even grosser than I remembered.
His flirty grin could curdle milk. His greasy hair is shoved under a dirty trucker hat and I can count at least a dozen stains on his ripped shirt.
His sleeves are rolled up his skinny arms, showing off the weird, unintelligible tattoos that some amateur tattooist probably did on their first attempt with a tattoo gun.
“Member me?” he asks, grinning as those slimy, bloodshot eyes slide up and down my body.
“How could I forget?” I mutter as I cross my arms. “Cooter, right?”
He grins, showing that ugly gold tooth again. “You gotta memory on you, sweetheart.”
I take a small step back. “Wish I didn’t.”
He laughs, the kind of creepy, skin-crawling laugh that makes me want to dip my head in hand sanitizer. “You playin’ again up der today?”
“Just about to.” I glance toward the stage, desperate to escape this guy.
He leans in close, and I catch a whiff of beer and something sour. “I’ll be watchin’ for ya, sweetheart. Maybe you can dedicate a song to me dis time.”
“Not likely,” I mutter, already moving away.
“Don’t be shy now,” he calls after me. “You know you like the attention.”
I don’t answer. I head straight for the back of the stage, ignoring my screaming bladder. I’d rather pop a kidney than spend another second near that creep.
When I reach the others, Mira and Tessa are standing in total silence, their jaws tight and their energy as sharp as barbed wire.
I sigh. “What happened now?”
“Nothing,” Mira says too fast.
“Everything,” Tessa mutters at the same time.
I hold up a hand. “Not now. We’re on in two minutes. Pretend to like each other for one hour, and then you can kill each other in the van.”
They shoot each other a nasty look while they grab their instruments. Sloane still hasn’t looked up from her phone. She’s smiling dreamily at whatever heart-eyed message her fiancé just sent.
We step onto the stage as the crowd mostly disperses. We lose more people as we quickly set up. They start heading toward the food trucks, the rides, the petting zoo, and the bathrooms. We came all this way and went through all this crap and we’re about to play to grasshoppers.
“Good afternoon,” Mira says in the mic when we’re ready. “We’re Angelic Divine.”
Mira taps her drum, giving us our cue. I pluck the opening notes of good 4 u by Olivia Rodrigo, our strings turning pop angst into something ethereal. The crowd starts to take note and return.
By the end of the song, we have a good-sized crowd. And by the end of the third song, Close To You by Gracie Abrams, the area is packed. Phones come out. People dance and sing. And it’s actually fun.
That’s the perplexing thing about our group—we’re good. Really good.
We play in perfect harmony, our styles coming together in a unique, synchronized way. We have a fresh sound and people love us, but we just can’t seem to get in sync off the stage.
I’m scanning the enthusiastic crowd when a man in uniform catches my eye. He’s standing to the side—tall and broad shouldered, his silver badge gleaming in the sun.
The Sheriff.
He’s big and muscular with strong hands that can easily hold a man down. Or, a woman down…
My fingers slip at the enticing thought and a sharp, sour note rings through the speakers.
Mira glances back in surprise. Tessa raises an eyebrow like ‘Seriously?’
I swallow hard and recover, forcing my focus back onto the strings. But my hands are shaking and I can feel the Sheriff’s gaze like heat on my skin. Those dark brown eyes are fixated on me.
But why?
He looks like he wants to arrest me, or maybe use those handcuffs for something else?
I sneak another glance at him between songs.
He’s seriously hot. A true silver fox alpha if I’ve ever seen one.
He has the kind of seductive eyes you can get lost in.
The type of hands that would cause you to break the law just so you can feel them on you.
His arms look so powerful crossed over his muscular chest, the sexy tattoos on his skin disappearing underneath the tight sleeves of his uniform.
And that beard… Only a dominant man like him can grow a beard like that.
My mind momentarily blanks and I have to look at the set list to see what song we’re playing next. Beautiful Things by Benson Boone. Fitting. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I take one last look at that sexy salt and pepper beard and feel my insides getting all warm and light.
Mira sings softly as I pluck away at the harp. She’s a knockout, but the Sheriff doesn’t take his eyes off me. He doesn’t look at her once.
Another cop steps up beside him and starts talking animatedly, but the Sheriff doesn’t even turn his head. His eyes stay locked on me.
I swallow hard as I feel arousal coursing through me, blooming hot and out of control. I picture how it would feel to be in those big sexy arms. I’d feel so tiny. So safe and protected.
I look down at my harp strings to stay focused, but I can still feel his eyes. That stare. Steady. Heavy. Protective. Possessive.
What is happening here?
I keep playing as I try to ignore the way my heart is pounding.
The set flows from one song to another—Benson Boone into Taylor Swift into Radiohead—songs we’ve perfected over the summer.
The crowd claps along—laughing, swaying, dancing, and having a great time, and yet all I can think about is him.
I’m not in the moment. I’m not feeling any of this.
I’m over there. With him.
Every time I glance up, he’s there.
Watching.
By the time we finish, I’m flushed and breathless.
And I’m aching down there.
Mira stands in front of Tessa and bows dramatically, which I know will set off an epic fight once we’re in the van.
The crowd cheers and claps and waves at us as we stand up and collect our instruments. A few thousand people cheering for me, but I only look at one.
The Sheriff of this tiny mountain town doesn’t clap.
He doesn’t smile.
He just stands there, arms crossed over that broad chest, watching me like I’m the only woman on earth.
The air feels thinner and heavier. My fingers tremble as I gather my sheet music. The world around me fades—Mira soaking up the applause, Tessa glaring daggers, Sloane already halfway off the stage—and all I can see is him.
Our eyes lock one last time before I grab my harp and head into the back.
“What the hell was that?” Tessa snaps at Mira, the two of them already going at it.
I just ignore them. I can’t deal with this right now.
My pulse won’t calm down. My skin is still tingling. I’ve never had a man staring at me like that.
I press a hand to my racing heart wondering what that was.
A warning?
A promise?
I don’t know what it was—only that something inside me has shifted.
That look felt like the start of something I’m not sure I’m ready for.
And as my quartet starts imploding around me, one thought burns hot in my mind.
If the hot Sheriff of this town decides he wants me—I don’t think there’s a force on earth that could stop him.