Page 11 of How to Love a Rockstar

Virginia

Afew minutes after the band leaves, there’s a knock on the door. They must be back.

“What did you forget?” Oops. It’s not Indigo and the band. It’s a group of elderly ladies. “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Did she think we were Dylan?” one of the women asks.

“Has Dylan already been in her place?” another asks.

“Of course, he has. This used to be his bandmates' apartment.”

“This project is going to be my favorite.”

I have no idea who these ladies are and definitely not any idea what they’re talking about and I don’t think I want to know. I clear my throat to gain their attention. “Excuse me. Can I help you, ladies?”

“Let me introduce ourselves,” the one in the front says. “I’m Sage. I’m the leader of the group.”

“She wishes,” the woman next to her mutters.

“This is Feather, Petal, Cayenne, and Clove.” She points to each woman in turn. “Together we’re the gossip gals.”

“The gossip gals?” I ask. I must have misheard. No one would refer to themselves as a gossip on purpose, would they?

Sage beams at me. “Yes, we know everything going on in town.” And she sounds very proud of it, too.

Everything? And they named themselves gossips. I’m starting to worry living in a small town is going to be like those small town romances I’m addicted to where everyone is in everyone’s business all the time. I’m torn between excitement and scared out of my mind.

“I still say this is a mistake. We’re too early,” Feather says.

“I agree. We’re not done with Indigo and Cash yet,” Cayenne adds.

Done with Indigo and Cash? What exactly are they doing to Indigo and Cash? And do I want to know?

“Pish pash. We can handle two projects at once,” Petal claims.

“Excuse me. Projects?” I ask when my curiosity gets the better of me.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sage says. “We’ll handle everything.”

“We always do,” Cayenne adds.

I hate it when someone tells me not to worry. It’s my choice whether I worry or not. And I am worried. Worried these women escaped from a mental health facility and I need to contact the police to return them to safety.

“We’re not crazy,” Sage says.

She thinks she’s reassuring me. She’s not, since all crazy people claim they aren’t crazy.

“But we are the best matchmakers in town.”

“In town?” Feather scoffs. “I think you mean in the state of Colorado.”

“This side of the Mississippi?” Clove suggests.

I hold up my hand to stop them. “Matchmakers? I don’t need a matchmaker.” I certainly don’t want anyone dictating my life. I am done with letting someone run roughshod over my life, thank you very much.

“Who’s this?” Feather asks instead of answering my question.

I skim a hand over the back of my hedgehog. “This is Harry.”

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