Page 65 of Perfect Pitch

“I really mean it, Beats. I never meant to hurt you.”

She jerks her head back and my heart thumps, shaking my ribs with every beat while I wait for her to consign me to hell. When her blue orchid eyes go wide, lips part in shock, I quickly lean in. After brushing a quick kiss against her lips, I turn and pick up the bowl of popcorn. “In light of the fact Austyn’s had an incredible day, I think she should pick the movie.”

She saunters past me before plopping back on the sofa. “I don’t want to watch a movie.”

“What do you want to watch, Austyn?” Trevor asks guardedly.

Her eyes dance when she announces proudly, “Rodeo.” The minute she says it, Trevor flops over, groaning.

I frown. “What’s wrong with rodeo? At least it’s a sport.”

Her smile could light New York City if the power ever went out. “There’s hope for you yet, Mitch.”

Proving she stands by her words, she drops down next to me and shoves the bowl in my lap. As I stare down at the crown of braids so close to my chest, I realize she’s become more. So much more.

She’s happiness in a world where everything else just pales next to her.

And today, I put us at risk.

The question is, how do I fix it?

I spend most of the night trying to figure out how to fix it while Austyn hoots and hollers at the television, much to my brother’s and my amusement.

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Conversation starter: Do you have a hangover cure? My brother had one he swore by. It involved Gatorade, Funyuns, and Ding Dongs.

I’m not certain if this was as much a hangover cure or payment for visiting him at his frat house.

—Fab and Delish

The next morning, I awake with a film in my mouth, which could be attributed to the souring of my stomach from the champagne I consumed and the butter from the voracious amounts of popcorn I chowed down while cheering on the rodeo riders.

I didn’t care one hoot if Mitch and Trevor were more amused by me than the antics on the television. Besides, I think a little bitterly, Mitch knows everything there is to know about me now.

Right?

My stomach curdles a bit more when I realize I’m embarrassed. Staring at my reflection in the hall bath, I admit, “It’s not like I’ll be the one to tell him about the farm or what Uncle E does. Ugh, he probably even knows about my being dragged down to the station for sneaking into Rodeo Ralph’s. Great, just great.”

Disgusted, I turn away and twist my hair into a loose bun. “What am I supposed to feel?”

I’m about to head back to my room to call Fallon to talk about it when there’s a knock at the front door. Trevor’s door is firmly closed. Grunting, I head in the direction of the offensive noise, calling, “Give it a rest.”

The knocking stops. I pull the door open with the safety chain on it. On the other side is Mitch’s co-worker, Kane. Shocked, I slam the door in his face so I can unlatch the chain. “What are you doing here?”

Kane’s face is somber. “It’s about Mitch.”

The feeling of wooziness that swamps through my body has nothing to do with the amount of alcohol I drank last night. My whispered question betrays my heart. “Please tell me he’s okay. He’s not hurt?”

A brief smile lifts Kane’s mouth. “Other than beating himself up? He’s fine.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

Kane holds out a large, sealed envelope. Confused, I take it. “He said you had a right to this.” With another twitch of his lips, he spins on his heel and leaves me standing in the doorway, more confused than ever.

Backing into the condo, I lock the door again before bringing the envelope closer to the coffee maker. After measuring the grinds and pouring in the water, I press the on button before picking the letter up.

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