Page 58 of Shattered Chords

I’d almost teared up by the time I pulled into my parking spot next to the service entrance. Harper’s Jaguar, washed and buffed, glistened in the sun and I was afraid to look at it for more than a second, because I didn’t want all the shine to blind me.

Inside, the muffled hum in the ceiling told me the AC was cranked all the way up. Ignoring the lighthearted laughter that poured into the corridor from the main floor, I stepped into my office and deposited my bag on the chair.

There was a small stack of papers on my desk. The indiscernible scribbles on the colored stickies attached to it indicated that they were Renn’s notes. I quickly fumbled through the applications, scanning the names of the candidates, and as I set them aside, there was a knock on my door.

“Sweets? Is that you?” Harper poked his head inside. “I heard someone come in through the back.” He was wearing a meticulously ironed light blue short-sleeved shirt and a pair of navy slacks.

“Who else would it be?” I asked, shedding my jacket. It was too hot, despite the AC.

“Your mother?” Harper shuddered visibly. “Maybe she wants a dress for her anniversary,” he joked.

“I sure hope not. And don’t even think about planting that idea in her head.”

“You know me. I’m Eloise’s biggest fan,” he said sarcastically.

“No one is Eloise’s fan.” I winced a little at the mention of my own mother. I loved her. I really did. But she was like wasabi—best taken in small quantities. Luckily, she didn’t pry into my life too much lately.

“Okay, gotta go finish the displays,” Harper declared and returned to the main floor, where I headed a couple of minutes later after placing an online coffee order.

“Did you see the applications I left on your desk?” Renn asked as soon as I entered the front of the boutique.

“I did. Thank you. Anyone in particular stand out?”

“A couple of people. I made some notes.” The ones I didn’t read carefully enough, because my brain was still struggling with the fact that Dante Martinez was a decent man. Or, at least, as decent as someone in his position could be.

As if reading my mind, Renn spoke, “So the young man you were with on Sunday”—she fixed her face in an expression of neutrality—“is he Ally’s new guitar teacher?”

Harper was hiding behind the lingerie rack and he ducked his head when I shot him a glare.

“He’s very handsome. Rugged but handsome,” Renn concluded matter-of-factly.

Oh, handsome, he was. Among other scandalous things.

“Yes,” I finally replied.

“Is he single?” Renn continued her interrogation.

“I didn’t ask,” I lied.

“Come on,” Harper drawled from across the room and tossed an empty hanger in the air. “Even the blind could tell you two sparked in each other’s proximity.”

“No, we did not.” I huffed.

“Well, you’re not getting any younger, dear,” Renn mused, sounding almost as patronizing as my mother, and at that moment, I hated her a little for reminding me that I was no longer seventeen and carefree. “You’re not even dating anymore.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m raising a child on my own.” My comment found its mark. Renn didn’t have children. Except her dogs. So we were even now.

“Ally’s almost an adult.” She recovered quickly.

“Almost an adult isn’t one. And don’t even think about telling my mother about him.”

I spun and faced Harper, who was now walking between the rows of sale items at the far back, staring at his phone.

“You either,” I told him sternly. “You’re not allowed to tell my mother or any other member of my family about Dante.”

He gave me a nod, then added, “Have you guys seen this? A camping site near Santa Barbara burned last night.”

“Again?” Renn grumbled in a very unladylike manner that didn’t match her exquisitely dressed exterior. “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to deal with that this year.”

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