Page 34 of Stormswept Colorado

“Maybe your publicist will let you answer all my questions next time?” the reporter asked.

“Hey, anything could happen.”

He laughed, almost sounding sincere. Finally, the interview ended and the magazine reporter disappeared.

“That went fairly well,” Cheryl said. She was still on the call. And she wasn’t the only one.

“You were fantastic, Ayla. Just stellar. It’s good to see you back at your best.” Paul Ruxton sat behind his desk. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind him showed off a view of the beach. Mypublicist Beth was there too, hovering at the periphery and tapping at her phone now that the interview was over.

I was currently in the classroom where Emma taught music lessons. At least the interview was done, even though I wasn’t off the hook just yet. I was a pro at putting on a smile when I didn’t feel it. But on less than three hours of sleep? It was hard to care about anything when I was this tired.

Paul’s eyes flicked down, focusing somewhere around my breasts, even though I was wearing a sweater. “We should’ve sent more wardrobe options for you, but the authentic look is good too. Giving your fans a glimpse of the real Ayla Maxwell.”

As if Paul knew the “real Ayla Maxwell,” whatever that meant.

Cheryl stood off to one side behind Paul, her arms crossed. Her bobbed raven hair featured a streak of silver-gray, and she wore a linen suit that straddled sophistication and elegance. She and Beth had gone to Paul’s Santa Monica office for them to monitor my interview.

Paul was the newest and youngest executive at Ruxton Records. The son of the founder of the company.Hello, nepotism. Everything about Paul was slick, from the shiny fabric of his suit to his gelled hair.

He also had trouble keeping his eyes to himself. Female artists used to have to accept that treatment. But things were changing.

I was trying to reserve judgment on Paul, though. Several months back, he worked with another artist on a smash-hit album, far more successful than my last one. The label expected my next to put me back on the top. They claimed Paul would get us there.

And despite my past success in this business, I didn’t have the clout to call my own shots entirely, thanks to the record contract I’d signed years ago. It would be another year before I could negotiate a new one.

Believe me, my team of high-powered lawyers would be all over that. But I had to be patient. No matter how difficultthat was.

“You handled the questions about your sister’s death with perfect poise,” Beth said.

“Thanks. Since I’m in Silver Ridge, I figured the reporter would ask.” I had deflected, while still pretending the questions didn’t bother me. “At least yesterday’s fight on Main Street didn’t come up.”

Cheryl’s mouth tightened. “By some miracle, yesterday’s incident has been quiet on social media so far.”

Paul leaned back casually in his leather chair. “We’re trying to keep a lid on it. I’ve made some calls. You don’t think the police chief will make trouble about this, do you? Local cop trying to get attention, make himself look like a hero for showing you mercy and not going through with the arrest?”

I bristled. So Paul knew all about it. Cheryl probably felt like she had to warn him. “Teller? He wouldn’t do that.”

Paul scoffed. “You’re on a first-name basis with the guy?”

I studied my fingernail, even though my instinct was to defend the chief. A pretty big turnaround from a day ago. I didn’t feel like explaining it. “He’s a family friend. Anyway, Bryan will need a ride out of Silver Ridge since he can’t drive. Cheryl, the agency is sending someone to pick him up, right?”

“Yes. I’ve spoken to them to make sure.”

Poor Bryan had a concussion. One of Teller’s officers had taken him to the county hospital last night, but there’d been no way I could leave him all alone. He’d gotten hurt defending me. So after the party was over, I’d asked Ashford to drive me to the hospital. Thankfully he’d been sober.

I’d sat up with Bryan for half the night while the doctors ran tests. They insisted on keeping him there for observation, given his past history of concussions and his worsening symptoms. Then Ashford had to come pick me upagainbefore he, Emma, and Maisie took off for Hartley.

I’d been on my own for the last few hours. Packing my things, then dealing with the magazine interview.

But in the background of my mind, ever since last night, therehad been one constant refrain. Like a melody that appeared out of nowhere and I hadn’t figured out yet.

Teller Landry.

“I hear there’s bad weather headed to Colorado,” Cheryl said. “Are you sure you don’t need another driver? You’re all set?”

“Yep, I am.” She didn’t need to know Teller was driving me personally. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I always worry about you. Especially when I sense there are things you aren’t telling me.”

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