Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Harper
“ S hit,” Harper swore, tossing the pen down onto her notebook. So far, the best place to work was Logan’s hidden spot that he had shown her the week before. But today had not been a good day.
“Five days and three songs.” She shook her head in disgust. At this rate, she’d barely have half an album written in time. And two of the three songs weren’t good. They were barely passable compared to her usual efforts. At least the ones she’d written for Isla.
The ones she’d written for herself? They felt right in a way she didn’t want to examine too closely. There was just something about hitting the exact melody and lyric combo that had her grinning from ear to ear.
What was wrong with her? She could write songs for herself—in fact she had more than enough for an album now—but for her sister? Nothing.
Harper scrubbed a hand over her face and sighed.
In the five days since she’d started writing in earnest, she had been coming to this little hideaway every day. At first it was because it was away from the noise of Logan’s power tools. Even though he’d moved as far away as possible, there were still times he had to actually work in the house. But after the first day, she returned because it was peaceful, and she did her best thinking there.
The debris blocking the road had been cleared away the day before, and she and Logan had gone into town to get some groceries. This time without Rowan. They’d run into Mrs. Trombley, who had had the most delightfully wriggly puppy with her, the only one from the rescued litter that still needed a home. Harper had wanted to take him home right then and there, but she couldn’t, could she? Not when she didn’t know what her future held. So, with sad eyes, she’d handed the pup back.
Logan and Harper had taken turns to cook, and Harper had cooked the night before, making a favorite casserole of her mother’s. She had turned the notifications off on her phone, only leaving them on for Isla and King’s numbers. But she’d heard nothing.
Logan hadn’t slept on the couch since that first night, and she was glad for his strong, warm body to cling to during the night. Because it was at night that she struggled the most. Thoughts of how her sister was, of the rumors being spread by the press, of her father’s reaction if she couldn’t get this album written in what was an impossible timeframe.
It was on the second night when she was tossing and turning, that Logan had dragged her into his arms and given her something else to think about. It turned out having the best sex of her life with the hottest man she’d ever laid eyes on was a fantastic way to distract herself. She stopped pacing, flushing at the memory.
She’d never felt so beautiful as she did when she saw herself through Logan’s eyes. She wanted her time in Cape Wilde to never end.
She sighed. It was just a distraction though. And she really didn’t need any distractions right now. She needed to get this album written.
She picked up the notebook and flicked back and forth through the pages, trying to find inspiration. Unfortunately, it was like opening the door to an empty refrigerator and hoping food would magically appear. Not going to happen.
Harper stopped on a page where she had written the words “not going to love you like a love song” with doodled hearts around the edge of the page.
She tossed the book back down with a disgusted grunt.
She was stuck.
“Ugh.” She groaned and rubbed a hand over her face, flopping back on the couch and staring out across the water.
“It can’t be that bad.” A woman’s voice said from one side of the gazebo.
Harper let out a shriek and pressed a hand to her chest, turning to see Logan’s sister Cassie. “You scared me.”
Cassie grimaced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She gestured at the other end of the couch with one hand, the other gripping a grocery bag. “May I?”
Harper nodded. “Sure.”
Cassie picked up the notebook and handed it to Harper before sitting down on the edge of the couch. She gripped the handle of the grocery bag in both hands, reminding Harper of a grandmother gripping her handbag. The thought made her smile, and Cassie took that moment to turn to Harper.
Cassie kicked off her sandals, which landed next to Harper’s own, and tucked her bare feet underneath her. She smoothed the fabric of the floral sundress she wore over her legs and set the bag on the couch beside her.
“I thought you might be thirsty.” She reached into the bag and passed Harper a soda.
Harper’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Thank you.” She took the soda and twisted the top, the hiss of the bubbles escaping, filling the air. It gave her something to do with her hands. She took a swallow, the liquid soothing, as the day had warmed more than she expected.
She wondered what Cassie wanted. They hadn’t got off on quite the right foot, and Harper was understandably cautious.
“Thank you for the guitar, too,” she said a moment later, belatedly remembering that it was Cassie who had brought her the instrument.
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Cassie said with a wave of her hand. “It’s probably nothing like you’re used to, but it was all we could find at short notice. The closest music store that would have something better is in Portland.”
“It’s fine. It’s great, actually. Better than my first guitar, anyway.”
Cassie brightened. “Really? I’m glad it’s coming to some use. It was just sitting in my living room making me feel guilty.”
Harper laughed. “Well, it’s been helpful to me.” Then she remembered how much work she still had to do and grimaced.
“I’m sure you’re probably wondering what I’m doing out here.”
“It did cross my mind.”
“I feel bad about how I behaved that day at Wilde Buns, and I wanted to make it up to you,” Cassie said in a rush, her cheeks going pink as she smiled apologetically at Harper. “I really am sorry. I just got so excited and… well, I sometimes have trouble keeping my mouth shut.”
“You do?” That wasn’t a problem that Harper had ever experienced. More the exact opposite. She was more likely to never say what she needed to say and regret it.
“Oh yeah,” Cassie groaned. “You know I’m a veterinarian, right?”
Harper nodded.
“Well, there’s this guy from Midnight Cove, the next town over, who visits the veteran’s rehab clinic. He trains therapy dogs and brings them in as part of their training.” Cassie went on to tell Harper an entertaining story that involved this man, a case of mistaken identity, and a rather embarrassing incident for all parties involving a terrified squirrel.
“The squirrel was fine, but I wish I could avoid him. I have to see him every time I go over there to do health checks on the dogs.” Cassie groaned and screwed up her face. “Just my luck.”
Harper smiled and patted Cassie’s hand where it lay on the couch next to her. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that.”
“I haven’t told you the worst bit.” Cassie’s face turned red. “He’s really hot. Like smoldering hot. I can’t get the image of him naked out of my mind.”
Harper tried not to laugh but failed. In the scheme of things, working with your crush didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world.
She immediately thought of Logan and bit her lip. What would it be like to see him every day? She shook her head. No, she was not going to entertain that particular thought.
She was going to finish this album and then she would be leaving to go back to her life. That’s what she wanted.
But was it?
Of course it was what she wanted. She wanted Isla to sell albums, to hit the charts. She wanted to hear her songs on the radio.
Even if she didn’t get the credit for writing them.
“Sorry?” She realized Cassie had been talking.
“I want to make it up to you. A few of us girls were going to spend the afternoon getting our nails done, would you like to come?”
Harper looked down at the ragged fingernails that she’d managed to bite down to the quick the last few days, and then at the notebook next to her. She wasn’t getting any work done anyway.
“Alright.”
Cassie squealed and clapped her hands, her enthusiasm contagious.
A n hour later, Harper was sitting in the most chaotically decorated beauty salon she’d ever seen, getting her nails examined by a talkative woman in her 60s with pink hair.
“So, love. We have a bit of work to do here, don’t we? Color?”
Harper jerked, dragging her attention back to the nail technician. “Sorry. Um, pink?”
The technician not only ran the salon, but also taught belly dancing classes one night a week with Mrs. Trombley. That information, combined with the decor of the salon, had her head spinning.
The salon’s decor looked like a tiki bar had mated with the set of a bad scifi movie. The colors were bright and there were mirrors everywhere. And pink. Lots of pink.
Harper didn’t know what to think. So she didn’t. She just went with it.
“I knew I’d like you. Pink is my favorite color.”
Harper took the shade card handed to her and chose a shade at random. “That one?”
“Oh, great choice, love. Great choice.”
W ithout really understanding how it happened, later that afternoon, Harper found herself sitting at a table at Wilde Brews’n’Blues with Cassie. She’d been introduced to so many people she struggled to remember all their names. There was a beautiful brunette in a pair of leopard print heels that had introduced herself as Charlotte, but Cassie and everyone else called her Charlie, and Amy—Cassie and Logan’s mom—but the rest of the table she was struggling to keep tabs on.
The bar was actually a brewery with a bar and restaurant attached. It looked over the water, the ever-present sound of lapping waves a constant backdrop. Cassie had claimed a large table on the outdoor deck. There were lights hanging in strings across the area, crisscrossed with colorful bunting, giving the place a relaxed holiday feel.
Harper sat back in her chair, not paying much attention to the conversation that had moved on from polite small talk to more detailed discussions about people she didn’t know. She looked out over the water, watching as a catamaran skipped over the rippled surface, heading toward the marina.
On the rocky shore, a seabird spread its wings to dry in the sun. It was beautiful here. Under other circumstances, she would have loved to have come here for a holiday. But work was work, and she needed to get this album written sooner rather than later.
The familiar sense of impending doom washed over her like a bucket of cold water and she shivered. She really should be writing right now.
“Everything alright?”
Harper nodded, turning her head to smile reassuringly at Amy. “Just thinking.”
“Not about that boy of mine, I hope?”
Harper frowned. “Why do you say that?”
Amy laughed. “Because the expression on your face was pure terror.”
Was it? Surely not?
Harper shook her head, numb. “Just thinking about… my family.”
Amy smiled and patted Harper’s hand where it lay on the table next to a glass of white wine. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Harper’s eyes opened wide as she shook her head. She wished she had a mother to call who could listen and give advice, who would tell her everything was going to be fine. She wished she could talk to this warm-hearted woman about her problems, but it was bad enough that they were out in the open for everyone to hear about.
She glanced around the bar, looking for an excuse to change the subject. It was packed despite the early evening time, with lots of people filling the tables on the outdoor deck area. “Is it always this busy here?”
Cassie turned from where she was chatting to a pretty woman with light brown skin. Harper struggled to remember her name, Suzie or Stacy? She wasn’t sure. All Harper remembered was that she was a teacher at the local middle school, or was it elementary? She shrugged. She seemed nice, and hadn’t recognized Harper, for which she was grateful.
“Are you going to sing?”
Harper blinked at her. “What?”
Cassie tilted her head to one side. “Sing. Are you going to sing? I assumed you sang because of the guitar and, you know…”
Harper darted a glance to the other women at the table, but they weren’t listening.
“No. I don’t sing.”
Cassie’s eyebrows shot into her hair. “Not at all?”
Harper swallowed past a lump in her throat. “Not really.”
A familiar, warm hand landed on her shoulder and Logan slid into the empty chair next to Harper. “Leave off, Cass,” he said, a note of warning in his voice.
Harper instinctively turned toward him and leaned against his side slightly, seeking comfort and strength. Her shoulders relaxed and she gave him a tentative smile.
“But it’s karaoke night,” Cassie said. “Everyone sings. That’s the rule.”
There was a hint of the baby of the family getting her own way in that. Funny how she’d never had that herself. Maybe that had something to do with the close ages of her and Isla, or maybe because she wasn’t the youngest of six and the others all boys.
“Call the karaoke police then, Cassidy. If she says she’s not singing, she doesn’t have to sing.”
The two siblings were leaning toward the table, a similar fierce expression on their faces.
Harper had the immediate thought of them as children, fighting over anything and everything just because they could.
She laughed and Logan shot her a look, one eyebrow raised quizzically.
“Nobody can force me into anything, Logan. I’m not singing, but I’d like to stay and listen.”
“Are you sure?” He turned toward her and settled in so closely that their noses almost touched. Anyone who saw them like this would know they were lovers. It was too obvious, and yet she couldn’t pull away.
She didn’t want to pull away.
What would that say to Logan if she did? That she was ashamed of him? That she didn’t want to be seen with him in public?
She reached out and slid her hand into his. “I’m sure,” she said with a smile and a squeeze of his hand.
A loud round of applause came from near the small stage that had been set up with an outdoor projector screen and a microphone.
“They set this up for outdoor movies on weekends, too. At least during the summer,” Cassie volunteered, waving her hand to indicate the outdoor decking area.
Harper wondered if there would be time to come back and see a movie with Logan. On an actual date.
The same woman with pink hair who had done Harper’s nails climbed onto the stage.
“You might regret staying,” Logan said under his breath as she began to sing the opening bars of Prince’s “Diamonds and Pearls”.
Harper laughed, humming along with the tune and watching the crowd. The singing was far from perfect, but everyone cheered and clapped for the performers. Nobody booed. Nobody heckled. Nobody made fun when the next performer stumbled and missed their cues or the one after who couldn’t hit a high note.
She nursed her glass of wine and sat quietly, enjoying herself and wishing she could stay forever. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, staring up at the sky as the evening turned dark.
If I could stay here forever,
Could we make it together?
The words flowed through Harper’s mind, the melody filling her with melancholy. She jerked out of her seat and raced from the bar, gripping her phone in her fist.
She heard Logan’s booted feet on the wooden decking of the pier as she dashed away from the noise of the bar.
Ignoring his presence she hummed the tune until it crystallized and then recorded herself as she sang the accompanying lyrics. They flowed out of her like water. She was laughing when she was done, the sheer relief of being able to create music like she wanted sending her straight into Logan’s arms.
He smiled bemusedly as she rained kisses across his face. “What’s this for?”
“I did it! I have something, finally. Something good.” She laughed, throwing her head back and squealing into the night. “I might just be able to write this album after all.”
She might actually be able to get what she wanted.
But, if everything was within her grasp, why did she have a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach?