Page 13 of Wasted On You

Besides, Kip would be back sometime over the weekend, which left the question, what to do tonight? Millie Sue and Cal were home with a fussy baby, and since she’d never taken the time to catch up with old friends since she’d been back in Montana, Ivy was on her own. Not that she’d ever had a ton of close girlfriends. Back then it had always been Cal, Millie Sue, Mike Paul and Ivy.

Restless, she got to her feet and stared out the window at the gathering dusk. It was barely five in the evening and already the night sky was looking to take over. It was clear out there, and no doubt soon there’d be twinkling stars blanketing this slice of heaven. And standing here, right now, made that big old hole inside her feel bigger. She hadn’t realized how much she missed Montana. Missed the mountains. Riding horseback. Big Bend. The incredible wildlife. God, a part of her even missed her mother.

A lump formed in her throat, and hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She missed the way things used to be before she’d gone ahead and done the dumbest thing ever. Giving in to her feelings and spending the night with Mike Paul had pretty much ruined everything.

“Nothing I can do about it now,” she muttered.

Ivy sighed and glanced around the modest bungalow. It was Millie Sue’s place, and she’d gladly let Ivy and Kip stay while they were in Big Bend. Thank God, because Lord knows Ivy’s only other option was her mom’s place and the two of them locked horns more than they loved. It was a hard relationship, and one she’d never been able to fully understand.

She wandered back to the kitchen island and scooped up her cell. One glance told her there were no work emails that needed her attention. None of her clients were touring at the moment—this time of year was slow in the entertainment industry. And with Cal firmly rooted in Montana until his next gig, there wasn’t much to do in that regard. The tour was planned with venues booked, tickets sold, and the band wouldn’t start rehearsals for at least a few more months.

For the first time ever, they’d be rehearsing in Montana, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Ivy didn’t miss Nashville, but it sure was a distraction.

When her cell rang suddenly, she damn near dropped the thing and answered without a glance, assuming it was Kip or maybe Millie Sue.

“Hey.”

Mike Paul’s voice was low, intimate, like he was standing beside her whispering in her ear. Ivy’s mouth went dry, and she snuck a look over her shoulder, just in case, then gave herself a mental shake because she was being ridiculous.

“What do you want?” She found herself asking, knowing she should have ended the call as soon as she heard Mike Paul on the other end.

“Someone didn’t get their Lucky Charms this morning.” His reply was light, and she frowned, walking back to the window. It was nearly dark, and the stars were beginning to twinkle overhead.

“I haven’t had Lucky Charm’s in years,” she said slowly.

“Let me guess. You’re a protein shake kind of girl now.”

“No.” She studied her reflection in the window and undid the knot that held her hair on top of her head. “I’m into yogurt these days.”

“Greek?”

She took a moment, not in the mood to play games. “What do you want?” she asked again.

“A favor.”

“You’re joking.”

“No.” She heard some background noise and frowned. “Where are you?”

“The Bowl.”

“No.” Her reply was automatic. Jesus, was he on drugs?

“It’s the first Thursday of the month.”

“No.”

“We need you.”

Ivy shed the large cardigan she’d been wearing all afternoon and walked in circles. “I don’t bowl with people I don’t like.”

“You like everyone on our team. And I’m pretty sure you like me too. You’ve just buried it under a bunch of stuff you’ll have to unpack one day. But that’s not why I’m asking you to come out.”

“Really.” Her reply was sarcastic.

“It’s Super Bowl all over again.”

Her head shot up at that. Huh.

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