Page 12 of High Note

“Caramel apple sounds yummy.”

Watching Skyla explore her apartment was like watching porn with someone you had just started dating. Nerve-wracking, but still hot as hell.

“Your place is like…a hobbit hole. Seriously. I love this. You have pink appliances!”

“I do. This place is a little bit of magic.”

“It is!” Skyla did a little flop onto her couch, cushions and cats closing in around her like a cloud. “I mean, damn. I thought the place I was renting was nice, but it’s all sterile compared to this.”

She got the kettle going, then found two mugs. “Thanks. I have a great view out the balcony.”

Skyla popped back up again like a jack-in-the-box. “Can I go peek? I won’t let the cold in too much.”

Kiersten popped two tea bags into cups. “Come on. I’ll show you. It’s through the back.” She led Skyla to the other end of the apartment and opened the heavy doors with the thick curtains attached. They kept out the weather. There was nothing as amazing as this, as being able to peer out and see the ski mountain, the rivers, the lights from town. This was all the beauty, just right here so she could stare out at it.

“Holy shitballs. Now I see why you live in the same apartment. This is stunning.”

The twang when Skyla said “shitballs” struck her as hilarious, and she had to laugh.

“It’s kind of amazing, huh? And not what you’d expect.”

“No, I was thinking alleyway.” Skyla glanced down. “I mean it is, but since only this main drag has tall buildings, you get crazy good stuff.”

“Yeah. It’s a good place to be.” And she was going to stay, she thought, because she was a mid-sized turd in a tiny toilet, and she was doing okay.

The kettle clicked off, so Kirsten went to make tea, and when she turned around, she damn near spilled it, because Skyla was right there. Watching her.

“Everything okay?” Her nipples went hard as nails.

“Uh-huh. I just wanted to say thanks. This is shaping up to be the best day I’ve had in a long while.”

“Oh.” That was either sad or cool. “I’m glad. Everyone on earth deserves downtime. Burnout is a real thing.” Kirsten knew a little about that—her folks were wealthy, high-dollar, fancy real estate types in the Bible belt, and they were very proud of their two perfect blond sons with perfect blonde wives with perfect blond children.

She wasn’t built for that shit, though.

In fact, what she was built for kinda horrified her people.

It was okay, because she’d come here. She had a brother and sister-in-law who adored her, a nephew who called her Aunt Kirsten, and a life that worked for her.

“It is, and I thought I would be all sad and bored by myself, but—Okay, can I just say it? I really want to write some songs with you.”

“No shit?” She blinked, utterly shocked. “Really? You could. I mean, after the painting. We could pick up tacos and…”

God, was she being a twat?

“I love tacos.” Skyla grinned hugely. “Could we grab my guitar, too? It’s not far, and I’m always self-conscious without it.”

“We can. We can stop by either before or after.” They had tea for now, right? Tea. Cats. The radio.

Chapter Five

Kirsten’s painting sat on the tiny table in the eat-in kitchen of Kirsten’s apartment.

Skyla had left hers at the rental house when they grabbed her guitar, and then they’d picked up tacos, which they were eating on the couch. They were good. Street tacos with baby white corn tortillas like she’d had in LA, but good anyway.

Maybe she’d have a chance to make tacos for Kirsten while she was here in Colorado and show her Tex-Mex.

She liked to cook, loved to share the food she craved with her friends, and her band.

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