Page 13 of Ice, Love, & Other Penalties

I wave in greeting. “Hey, Eloise. Is my dad busy right now?”

“For you? Never,” she says with a wink. “Go on and head upstairs.”

I make my way down the familiar wood-paneled hallway lined with gold and platinum records of the many artists recorded under Decker Records—Dad’s legacy that my grandfather started decades ago. Every wall from the lower level all the way to the upstairs has some memorabilia.

Shiny platinum, golden albums, and photos portraying the musicians that have worked with the Deckers over the years, including shots of Dad, Uncle Matt, and even Grandpa looking young and vibrant.

When I reach the third floor, Dad’s assistant Dory pops her head out. “Well, if it isn’t little Indie,” she exclaims.

I smile wryly. I suspect they call me “little” not because of my age, but my short stature among the tall Deckers.

Dory informs me Dad’s in studio A before I can ask, adding she’s already given him a heads-up that I’m here. I knock softly before turning the handle and poking my head inside the dimly lit room. The final shimmering notes of a guitar chord hang in the air as Dad glances up.

“This is a surprise, little one,” he says, his voice rich with warmth, the lines around his blue eyes crinkling as he smiles. He sets his guitar on the pedestal before rising up. “What brings my favorite youngest daughter here today?”

I can’t help but roll my eyes in response to the familiar joke.“I am the youngest, and Mom forbids you to have a favorite,” I remind him, stepping further into the room. The space is filled with vintage posters, each corner filled with instruments and recording equipment.

Dad chuckles, the sound reverberating through the studio. “Your mom forbids a lot of perfectly reasonable things. Did I tell you she’s now getting on my case about bacon and cholesterol again?” He shakes his head with a dramatic sigh. “I adore my woman, but she’s ‘killing me, Smalls’ with all these restrictions lately.”

I raise an eyebrow at the movie reference. “We just want you healthy, Dad. Don’t forget Grandpa Gabe’s heart surgery a while back—you don’t want that happening to you too, do you?”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Heart problems run in the family. Your great-grandma Janine had it too and after her surgery she lived over a hundred years. Why fight genetics? I’d rather enjoy a few more good years with my favorite vices on the side, extra cholesterol and all.”

I huff, planting my hands on my hips. Arguing health with this man is impossible. “Mom’s right, you’re infuriating. You’re lucky she loves you.”

He grins. “That I am.”

“So, what brings you here so early?” he asks, strumming an absent chord on his guitar. “Did you finally quit that ludicrous job with Jude and decide to go back to school? You can always go back to work for your Mom’s PR and take over.”

“No, actually I’m here because of that job,” I explain with a sigh. I give him a quick rundown of my eventful morning with Myra and Tyberius.

When I finish, Dad scrubs a hand over his bearded jaw, looking concerned. “Taking responsibility for a child who isn’t family . . . be careful with that, Indie. Can you find someone to take over on such short notice?”

“I’m going to call Teddy,” I say, referring to my savvy cousin-in-law who owns a concierge company and knows almost everyone in the state of Washington. “She can find anything.”

Dad nods. “Well, that’s good at least.” He strums a pensive chord. “You know what else might be good?”

I press my lips together wryly. “Let me guess—quitting on Jude?”

“It would solve a lot of potential headaches down the road,” Dad says wisely. “What happens when he sells the team and leaves you holding responsibilities you never signed up for?”

“You’re too harsh on him,” I remind him. “Just because sometimes he seems like he’s not serious about life, it doesn’t mean that all those choices he makes are just to fuck around.”

Dad presses his lips together skeptically. “He reminds me so much of your Uncle Matt when we were young.”

I wave a hand. “And look how great Uncle Matt turned out. Amazing career, beautiful family . . . isn’t that what you hope for Jude too?”

Dad sighs, shoulders slumping. “You definitely inherited your mother’s compassion.”

I give a wry smile. It’s sweet that he always treats me like I’m their biological child and I could acquire things from them the way my other siblings do and so I add, “I’m wise like her too.”

Dad chuckles, rising from his chair. “Alright, I’ll stop pestering you about quitting on him . . . for today, at least.” He pulls me into another hug. “Thanks for stopping by to see your dear old dad, Indie. Gotta get these hugs while I can.”

I hug him one more time before I head out to start my workday.

Settling in behind the wheel, I pull out my phone and dial Lyric.

She answers all chirpy on the second ring. “Ooh, a call instead of a text? Did something juicy happen that I missed?”

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