Page 36 of Goalie Interference

Beast was still in isolation at the doggy day care, so I needed to find time to get to the shelter with him. If he walked enough with other dogs, he might not need to be separated while he was at the day care. Otherwise I might as well leave him in a crate in the apartment.

“You’re as antisocial as me,” I warned him as we drove back from the dog day care. He growled.

At the estate, or whatever the hell you called it, Hanny followed me through the gate and up to the carriage house. I got out and opened the back door of the extended cab, grabbing Beast’s leash as he launched himself out of the truck.

Hanny, standing beside his Porshe and staring at the property, whistled. “This is some place.” Beast caught sight of him and growled. Hanny moved his gaze down till he found my dog. “What kind of dog is that?”

I shrugged. “He’s a rescue. I haven’t done his DNA to find out what breed.” The vet in Saint Martin had enough trouble just getting his vital shots done without losing a finger.

He took a couple of steps closer, eying Beast with caution. “The name suits him. Should I pet him?”

“Only if you want to get bit.”

He looked at me and laughed. “I can see why you chose him.”

Beast chose me more than the other way around, but I let it go.

“This is where the luthier works?”

I nodded and led the way. As usual, Sophie had the door open. I rapped on the frame and looked inside.

Sophie was leaning over her bench. There was a guitar or part of it in front of her, but I couldn’t see exactly what she was doing. I rapped again a little louder, and she turned with a start.

“Oh, Remy! Everything okay?”

Beast grumbled, then sat.

“Hanny, the guy with the guitar, is here if you have time to talk to him.”

She blinked and looked back at what she was doing.

“I’m sorry.” Hanny stepped up beside me. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. Is there a better time to come back?”

She pushed back a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail and brushed it behind her ear. Her posture straightened. “No, it’s fine. Come on in.”

I nudged Beast and we walked in, Hanny following us. Then I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I leave them to talk guitars on their own?

Hanny was his usual charming self. Sophie lifted his guitar, a Gibson Hummingbird, out of its case and they talked about it for a while. I took the opportunity to examine the shop. There was a board of instruments, kind of like what I’d seen set up for someone who worked around the house. There were a couple of larger machines—I had no idea what they did—and pieces of wood, glue and clamps, everything clean and well cared for. There were guitars hanging up, as well as the one on the centralworkbench, which had the strings off and looked bare and empty.

A laugh brought my attention back to Sophie and Hanny. They were standing close, examining something on a tablet she had on the far worktable. I was tempted to tell Hanny to step away. I checked the doorway, in case Otts might appear and blow up again at another of his players getting close to his ex-wife.

Was that why I’d come in here with Hanny? I didn’t need to do that. And seeing Hanny and Soph comfortable together was unsettling me, though there was no good reason for that either.

“I’m going to go upstairs with Beast. You can find me when you’re done here.” Beast stood, ready to go.

Hanny looked up with a smile. “I’ll come with you. Sophie is working.” He turned his smile toward her and a frown pulled down my mouth. “Please go ahead with that work. You obviously know what you’re doing, and I just want it to sound good when I play.”

Sophie was already looking at the guitar she was working on. “I’ll let you know when it’s done—maybe send it with Remy. I don’t always hear when someone buzzes the gate.”

I felt better with that suggestion. Hanny shot a glance my way, smirking at me. “Sure, or I’ll come over with him. You have a pretty secure place here.”

“It’s my brother’s. I don’t need this much privacy, but he does.”

“Nice meeting you, Sophie…Trent?”

Sophie shook her head. “No, I’m Sophie Williams again.”

“I’ll remember that.”

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