Page 39 of Unlocking Melodies

Sky didn't even try to hide their smirk when we walked into The Daily Grind together. "The usual for both of you?"

"You mean his unnecessarily complicated coffee order and my normal person drink?" Jimmy grinned.

"I'll have you know this is a perfectly calibrated caffeine delivery system," I defended as Sky started crafting my admittedly complex order.

"Uh-huh. Is that what they teach you in billionaire school?"

We settled into a corner table, and for a moment it felt strangely natural, like we'd done this a hundred times before. Maybe we had.

"So," Jimmy leaned forward, "tell me something true about yourself. Something that's not in all those business profiles I definitely haven't been reading."

I raised an eyebrow. "Research goes both ways, huh?"

"Hey, you have your wall of sticky notes, I have my Google alerts."

His phone buzzed before I could respond. "Liam," he explained, checking the message. "Apparently Melody's staging another escape attempt. I should head back."

"The trials of being a therapy horse's favorite person."

"Says the man she used as a corporate conference call prop." He stood, gathering his coffee. "Rain check on the interrogation?"

"Looking forward to it."

I watched him leave, unable to stop my smile. Sky appeared at my elbow, coffee pot in hand.

"That's going on the town betting board," they declared.

"Of course it is."

Chapter 9

Crisis at the Hole

Small towns, they run on routines. Every Friday night at The Watering Hole meant Piano Bar Night, which apparently was such a big deal that we had a waiting list longer than my list of things I couldn't remember. Not that I was keeping an actual list. Okay, maybe I was, but only because Past Jimmy's obsession with organizing things had apparently rubbed off on Current Jimmy.

I was in the middle of my new favorite activity – pretending I totally knew what I was doing while mixing drinks – when Nina's phone call changed everything. Her increasingly dramatic side of the conversation drew everyone's attention, especially when she started making promises that sounded suspiciously like bribery.

“Frank, honey, what if I got Dylan to clean your gutters? No? What about Mrs. Henderson's famous pot roast?” A pause. “Well, yes, I know your cat is more important than our piano night, but– Frank? Frank!”

She lowered her phone with the kind of defeated look that usually preceded someone asking me to do something I definitely wouldn't want to do.

“Don't even think about it,” I warned, already backing away from the bar.

“Jimmy...” Nina's voice had that dangerous mix of pleading and determination that usually ended with me agreeing to things Past Jimmy would have handled effortlessly.

“Whatever it is, no.” I focused very intently on wiping down an already spotless glass. “I'm just starting to get the hang of the drink orders. Mostly. Sort of.”

“Old Frank threw out his back.”

“That's unfortunate.”

“Trying to rescue Mr. Whiskers from the Thompson's maple tree. Again.”

“Again?”

“That cat has issues.” She waved off the feline drama. “But that's not the point. The point is, it's Piano Bar Friday.”

I looked around at the rapidly filling bar, noting the expectant faces of regulars who clearly considered this a highlight of their week. Mrs. Henderson's entire coffee club had claimed their usual table, all of them pretending not to watch Ethan's conspicuously empty corner booth while sharing what looked suspiciously like betting slips.

---