Page 18 of Roaring Fork Rockstar

“My treat,” I insisted, handing my card to Stacey, whose knowing grin made my cheeks flush. Yeah, I was smitten, and I knew damn well it was obvious.

As I was walkingto my truck after finishing my breakfast, something in the window of the store on the opposite side of the toy shop caught my eye. I went in and made the purchase, but rather than having it wrapped, I decided this one I wanted to take care of myself.

I glanced at the address Keltie had given me, then up at one of my favorite houses in downtown Crested Butte. Situated a couple of blocks from the Goat, it was painted a deep-red color with white shutters and had a porch with a swing that, today, appeared buried in snow.

I pulled up in front, cut the engine, and when I jumped out, noticed a familiar figure walking down the street—Remi Gilbert, CB Rice’s manager. What was he doing here? He lived on the East Coast, as far as I knew, and I doubted Ben would’ve invited the guy to spend the holidays with his family.

Remi raised his head and waved, then walked in my direction. I met him halfway.

“Holt,” he said with genuine surprise in his voice. “What brings you into town?”

“Visiting a friend,” I replied vaguely. “You?”

“Same.” He shrugged.

An awkward silence stretched between us.

“Listen,” he finally said. “The band’s hit a snag with your replacement. Ben’s not happy with any of the candidates.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Nothing’s changed, Remi.”

“This is career suicide,” he said, shaking his head. “You know that, right?”

“My hands are tied,” I said simply. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Remi studied me for a long moment. “Your call. Merry Christmas, man.”

“Merry Christmas,” I replied as he walked away.

I headed up the path to Keltie’s front door and knocked. When she answered, the warm welcome I’d expected was nowhere to be seen. Her face was tight and her body language closed off.

“Luna,” she called over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving mine. “Go upstairs and get Bunny. You don’t want to forget him.”

Once Luna’s footsteps faded, Keltie crossed her arms. “I think Christmas might be too much, after all.”

“What?” I took a step forward, confused by the sudden shift. “Luna was so excited at breakfast.”

“I decided it would be better if we stayed home.”

Something had changed in the short time since the diner. I replayed every moment of our breakfast, trying to identify what I might have done wrong.

“Keltie,” I said softly. “What’s going on? If I did something to upset you?—”

“I’m just worried about Luna.”

I shook my head. “Try again, darlin’. This isn’t worry. You’re not happy with me, and unless you tell me why, there’s nothin’ I can do to fix it. I’m not about to let Luna’s Christmas be ruined because I’m a jackass.”

She folded her arms, and her gaze flicked toward the street. “Who was that man you were talking to?”

“Remi? He’s CB Rice’s manager.”

“I guess you know him well since you’re in the band.”

There was something in her tone I couldn’t place—anger, certainly, but something deeper. Fear?

I sighed. “Yes, I was in the band, but I don’t know him well.”

“Was?”

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