Chapter 3
Bree
“Look who’s in town. Good to see you, Cal.”
The nervous edge to Cal whenever he’s in Indigo Hills makes me giggle.
“You too, Ms. Jenkins.” Cal is the only person I know who refers to Lulu so formally.
Her name is on the sign outside, for crying out loud.
I heard that some of my boss’s buddies played a prank on him a few years ago, so he’s a little jumpy at times when he’s in town.
“Have a seat at the counter. Your order will be up in a few.” Lulu gives us each a drink, peach tea for me, water no lemon for Cal, on the house.
I used to work with Cal at the Nashville office of Magnum Records.
I was the personal assistant to Alexandra Tate, while he doubled as second assistant and lead artist liaison.
He’s been promoted to lead artist liaison, which I love for him.
He’s in town to help support an up-and-coming artist in her duet with Walker James, one of our artists who has two crossover hits in the top 100 right now.
I still work for Alex, moving to Indigo Hills, Texas when she opened Sun Ridge Records.
I’m the executive assistant to Alex and Nash, although there are now two assistants under me.
The label is doing well, I’m proud to say.
My goal is to work my way into the role of VP of talent acquisitions, although we’re still a little small for that.
Won’t be too long, though, before that overtakes my current role.
Alex has mentioned looking at promoting one of the second assistants so that I can be the Manager of Talent soon.
She doesn’t say what she doesn’t mean, so it will happen.
I would love for Cal to come work for us, but he’s more comfortable in a larger city.
I’m just glad that Sun Ridge and Magnum continue to work together so I can keep working with Cal.
“Omigawd, omigawd, omigawd.” I elbow Cal right in the starched arm of his dress shirt. “Act like we’re together.”
His face freezes. “What?” His eyes dart around, his energy matching mine. Poor guy looks like he’s about to throw up.
I whisper really low through clenched teeth, “You’re my boyfriend. Pretend you’re into me.”
Cal’s lips and nose scrunch into a look of confusion mixed with disgust. “Uh, um, what do you want me to—?”
He stops mid-sentence as the hot as sin lumberjack from Austin walks in the door with a group of large, well-built men.
Each has a similar build, interestingly, although only one of them is about Mr. Sexy’s height.
He’s older than the others, maybe by ten, fifteen years.
I can’t quite tell. The only give away is the touch of gray at his temples and a few more laugh lines around his eyes.
The shoulders on these guys…yikes. I drag my gaze away and face front, pretending I don’t see them.
Cal leans over, his voice a whisper. “What is happening? Who are thoes men?”
My eyes catch Cal’s, pleading. “If you put your head closer to mine, maybe he won’t notice me.”
Cal does what I ask, his breath a little calmer when he realizes we’re not in actual danger.
I pretend to giggle, my shoulder bumping his, my hand resting on Cal’s hand.
The way his lip curls would make me laugh out loud if I weren’t too busy avoiding the man whose body is so fine, a mysterious magnetic pull drew me toward him in a way that I still don’t understand.
A shadow looms over the lunch counter, and the hairs on my neck stand on end.
“You gonna say hello, Austin?”
I turn around and take in this gorgeous snack of a man, my stomach churning.
“Hello.” I take Cal’s hand in mine, gripping it so hard my knuckles turn white.
My smile is wide. I hope it comes off as genuine.
“This is my boyfriend, Cal. Cal, this is...” I let the word drop intentionally, pointing out that I don’t know his name.
I hope I’m coming across as aloof and unbothered because the insides are exactly the opposite.
It’s like nervousness and sickness got married and had a baby called Fear right inside my stomach.
Lumberjack guy holds out his hand to Cal. “Nice to meet you, Cal. I’m Declan.” His eyes shift to mine, his eyebrow cocked up ever so slightly that most people wouldn’t notice, but I do. Is that a challenge? Is he challenging me? Is he challenging Cal? What kind of guy does that?
Cal is no wallflower. He’s just a little out of his element whenever he’s in Indigo Hills.
He’s the lead artist liaison. He’s very comfortable with people, and he’d do anything for anybody.
He drops his hand casually. He runs his thumb casually over my hand, either trying to comfort me for real or trying to show off, to stake a pretend claim in front of Declan.
I’m not sure. But I’m grateful because the effect is soothing, nonetheless.
“How do you know Bree?”
I can’t very well kick Cal because he’s the one doing me a favor, but the urge spikes nonetheless. I open my mouth to speak, but Declan interrupts.
“Just ran into each other not too long ago.” He puts his hands in his pockets, his eyes blank. “Good to see you again.” His head nods toward me, his smile wider for Cal. “Really nice to meet you, man.”
And he turns around. He reaches over to grab a bottle of ketchup before he heads back to his table.
Cal looks at me knowingly. “You hooked up in Austin with him, didn’t you?”
“Cal!” I say through gritted teeth.
Lulu hands us two large bags plus a tray of drinks. I do my best not to look at Declan’s table, but I can see him from the corner of my eye as we pass. He doesn’t look my way, not once. Isn’t that what I wanted? And why do I feel a little empty or icky about it?
***
I’m the last one in the conference room, eating a cold French fry, staring into space. Late-afternoon light slants through the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching dust motes dancing in the air. Somehow, the room feels quieter than it should, given our location.
We are at the studio in town where Walker James is laying down tracks with a new female artist. Cal’s sitting downstairs in the control room along with the sound engineer and Nash.
The second-floor conference room sits in what was once a law office above the bank, its bones still intact beneath the studio polish.
Original hardwood floors run lengthwise beneath a long rectangular table, their dark finish worn dull in the center from decades of foot traffic.
Glass doors line one wall, framed in black metal with narrow mullions that divide the panes into clean rectangles.
Alex pops her head through the door. “Everything okay?” She nudges the door wider with her hip, the hinges creaking softly in the quiet room.
Alexandra Tate is the best boss on the planet.
She is a true girl’s girl and has become a great friend.
Her long brown hair is styled in waves, her blue-green eyes direct but kind.
I wouldn’t have moved here to work for her if I didn’t have the utmost respect for her.
But the one thing we don’t do is talk about guys.
I did something I regret. I saw someone today I never expected to see again, and it has really thrown me.
Alex points to the rubbery remnants of my lunch, the fries limp and cold, burger grease congealed on the paper. “Are you finished?”
I nod, feeling ridiculous at not even noticing everyone’s been through eating for a while.
She gathers up the trash and throws it away for me, sitting down next to me in the fabric conference chair.
Behind her, exposed brick climbs from floor to ceiling in its original form, weathered and aged.
A narrow ledge runs along the wall, where framed gold records hang.
“Okay. So what happened?”
I tuck my hands under my thighs, unsure what to do with them, half-expecting Nash or Cal to pause outside the door, catching every word.
“During my girls’ weekend in Austin, there was a guy.”
Alex smiles knowingly.
“He was hot. Gorgeous. We danced at a club. But that was it. Besides an amazing kiss. I just... He asked for my number, but I told him no. ‘Cause why bother? I was out of town. Well, he walked into Hank & Lulu’s while I was there getting lunch. He recognized me right away and came over.” I blush from head to toe.
Alex smiles. “That good?”
I shake my head. “That bad. I panicked and said Cal was my boyfriend.”
Alex throws her hand to her mouth and blinks at me, eyes wide. Her chair squeaks as she leans back, eyes darting to the glass wall as if Cal might hear us. “You did what?”
“Yeah, I wasn’t really thinking it through. He shook Cal’s hand and left.”
Alex adores Cal and has tried to get him to come work for her here.
I know he’s thinking about it. But even if it’s a no, they have a great relationship.
But she knows how Cal is. He wears monogrammed dress shirts that are pressed, and his pants are dress pants, always.
Casual to Cal is a pair of khaki pants and a short-sleeved polo.
The only time I’ve seen Cal in shorts is when he ran the New York City Marathon when we were in town for a conference.
He doesn’t have a boyfriend as far as I know.
But there have been several artists over the years who’ve been interested in Cal.
He’s a good-looking guy. Any man would be lucky to have him.
“Do you think the guy believed you?”
“I don’t know. I feel so bad doing that to poor Cal. He just sat there and stuttered.” I wince, my shoulders creeping up toward my ears. “But he pulled it off for me. And now I can’t stop thinking about the encounter.”
“Do you have any information about the guy?”
“His first name is Declan.”
Alex picks up her phone.
“What are you doing?” I track the movement as if the phone’s a live grenade.
“I’m texting Nash. He grew up here. He’ll probably know.”
“Don’t—.“ Alex’s phone lights up between us, the glow reflected faintly in the glass wall. “Thanks you, friend. Now everybody in our office is going to know what a crazy person I am.”