Restless Harmony

by Kylie Gilmore

  Contents

  Restless Harmony

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Not My Romeo Excerpt

  Other Books by Kylie Gilmore

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Restless Harmony

  The Clover Park Series, Book 5

  © 2015 Kylie Gilmore

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  Jazz singer Zoe Davis is facing eviction due to a teensy, ill-advised fling with her landlord, so when Gabe Reynolds offers the apartment over his garage, Zoe knows better than to get involved with her landlord again. No matter how smoking hot he is.

  Former shark lawyer Gabe returns to Clover Park for the stress-free lifestyle only to corner the market on ridiculous “legal” cases. When Zoe comes to him asking for legal advice, Gabe’s solution is a shock even to him.

  Gabe’s got good reason to avoid anything permanent, so when Zoe tells him she’ll only be staying a month, he figures it’s the perfect situation. But when passion flares this hot, someone is bound to get burned.

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  Chapter One

  “If I happened to publish an e-rot-ic story, or three, can they legally kick me out of church?”

  Gabe Reynolds shifted uncomfortably as Maggie O’Hare smiled sweetly across the desk from him. He was the only lawyer in Clover Park, Connecticut, and had cornered the market on ridiculous and absurd cases.

  Maggie’s grandson and Gabe’s longtime friend Shane sat at his grandmother’s side, cheeks as red as his hair. Shane rolled his eyes. “Gran insisted I drive her over here for an important legal question. I thought it was her will.”

  “I ain’t dead yet!” Maggie exclaimed. “Now let the man talk.”

  Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you telling me that you, Grandma O’Hare, wrote an e—” He choked on the word. It just didn’t go with the white-haired woman with spiky hair, who’d taken him in like family way back in seventh grade when he’d desperately needed a haven from his own home. She was sweet and motherly, even if slightly inappropriate for a woman her age. For example, today she wore a black and white polka-dotted dress with an extremely high slit to show off one pasty-white seventy-something leg. And that was one of her more modest outfits. Then, of course, there was her “legal” question. He cleared his throat, unsure where to start in this incredibly awkward conversation.

  “Erotic,” she supplied helpfully.

  “Erotic story,” he choked out. “Or three, you said?”

  She glanced at Shane and said primly, “I can neither confirm nor deny that claim.”

  “You’re not under oath,” Gabe said.

  “Just answer the question, Counselor,” she snapped. Someone had been watching a lot of Law & Order.

  Gabe took a deep breath. “I would have to say no. Legally, they can’t kick you out of church.”

  Maggie giggled. “I have a pen name, but you never know what those dirty church-going ladies are reading. It’s an e-book, so you can read it with a nice plain cover on your e-reader and no one’s the wiser.” She winked. “Isn’t that genius? I’m Madam M, if you’re curious.”

  Gabe’s stomach rolled. “I’m not.”

  For the first time in four years, he thought longingly of his old job at Reynolds & Taft, LLC, where he’d been working his ass off to gain partnership, until his father, the Reynolds in Reynolds & Taft, died of a heart attack at the age of fifty-seven. The shock of his father collapsing at the office mid-tirade right in front of Gabe’s eyes made him reevaluate what he was doing with his own life. He’d been racing along in his father’s footsteps, and for what? To end up stressed and rich and dead? He’d inherited his dad’s money and city apartment, not because he was an only child, he had two younger brothers, but because he was the only child that lived up to his father’s expectations by becoming a lawyer. Gabe had returned home to Clover Park and bought the house he’d grown up in from his mom and stepdad, who’d wanted to downsize. He’d figured small-town life would help him get back to the basics.

  Now he had to wonder which was worse—death by stress or death by the ridiculous. Truthfully, death had stalked him his whole life. He was up to three people close to him that had died, including a fiancée, which was why he’d made no effort whatsoever in the last four years to find a girlfriend. People close to him were doomed.

  “I’m joking, dear! Ha-ha-ha!” Maggie exclaimed. “Though it’s been a lot of fun. I mean”—she straightened and tried for a serious expression—“it seems like it would be a lot of fun. If you were into that kind of thing.” She nodded once and looked between the two frowning men. “Anyhoo, Shane, would you like to ask Gabe your question?”

  “Thank you, Gran,” Shane said between his teeth. He turned to Gabe. “I just wanted to see if you were busy on Valentine’s Day.”

  “Why? You want to be my valentine?”

  Shane barked out a laugh. “Yeah. Get in line. I’ve got three girls on my arm already.” He smiled, probably thinking of his two young daughters and wife. “So you’re not busy?”

  Maggie raised her brows, eagerly waiting for Gabe’s response.

  “Nope,” Gabe said. “No valentine for me.”

  “Ohh, I could help you with that, honey,” Maggie said.

  “No need,” Gabe quickly replied. Maggie was an interfering, notorious matchmaker. In the nicest possible way. It was funny when it was happening to someone else.

  Shane shook his head with a smile. “Could you help with the catering at the Valentine’s Day dance?” He was a chef and, along with his wife, owned three businesses in town—Book It, Shane’s Scoops, and Something’s Brewing Cafe. The cafe often catered local events.

  Shane went on. “My usual ladies have dates, and I don’t want to ruin their Valentine’s Day. Rachel’s five months along, and I don’t want her on her feet the whole time.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  “Great. Thanks a lot.” Shane stood. “We’ll see you at the dance.”

  Gabe walked around the desk to see them out. “Yup.”

  Maggie looked Gabe up and down. “Good, very good.”

  Gabe suddenly felt uneasy. “This isn’t a setup, is it?”

  “Nah,” Shane said. “I do need your help.”

  “You need my help, Gabe,” Maggie said. “A thirty-five-year-old man should be married with a babe in his arms. Like my Shane.”

  “I’ll just hold one of Shane’s kids,” Gabe said. “I don’t need any help meeting someone. Thanks, anyway.”

  She just smiled, making him even more nervous.

  He whispered in her ear on the way out. “Your pen name might not be so secret if you try to set me up.”

  Maggie merely smiled. “Don’t mess with the woman who knows you inside-out.”

  He gulped. She did know him well enough to do some serious matchmaking damage. In the nicest possible way.

&nbs
p; “Bye,” Shane said. “Thanks again.”

  “You got it.” He waved them off and heard Shane giving his grandmother a stern lecture on putting things out on the Internet that could be seen by some as inappropriate, all while holding her arm and guiding her carefully down the icy sidewalk to his minivan. She countered with freedom of artistic expression, which was as much as Gabe heard before they drove off.

  A bright pink stroller caught his eye followed quickly by the beautiful woman pushing it right toward him. It was Zoe Davis, the waitress from Garner’s Sports Bar & Grill. He was shockingly disappointed to see that stroller. She must already be married with a baby, though he’d never noticed a ring. Not that he wanted a girlfriend, and for a damn good reason, but his attraction to her had grown stronger every time he saw her. It was getting to the point where he thought he might have to do something about it.

  Something temporary. But satisfying.

  Then she got closer, waving and smiling at him, with her bright brown eyes and cute purple hat on dark brown hair, and he found himself smiling back.

  She stopped in front of him. “I need a lawyer. The landlord wants to evict me and Fred.”

  He peered through the black mesh covering the front of the stroller and just about choked on his own laughter. “Is this Fred?”

  “Yes.” She frowned. “It’s not funny.”

  Why should he ever have a case that wasn’t completely absurd?

  “Hi, Fred,” he said.

  Arf! Arf! Arf! Fred was ready to plead his case.

  Gabe opened the door to his office with a smile. “Come on in.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Zoe parked the stroller in the foyer and lifted the hood. Fred leaped out and started running in circles around the small space. She grabbed his squeaky bone toy, hoping to keep him occupied while she filled Gabe in on the problem, but then Gabe snagged the toy right out of her hands and tossed it back toward his office. Fred took off after it, and Gabe gestured for her to follow.

  “Have a seat,” he said, indicating the leather cushioned chair in front of his desk.

  She sat, unzipped her long down parka, and pulled the lease out of her purse, handing it to Gabe. “It says right here that I can have a small dog.” Gabe glanced uneasily over at Fred, who was attempting to hump his rubber toy. “Fred might’ve put on a few pounds now that he’s one year old, but he’s still a small dog.” Fred was a keeshond with thick gray and black fur. “Fred, come!” The dog bounded to her side. “Sit.” Fred sat, and she pushed down the huge mane of fur around his head to show Gabe. “See? Look how small his head is. He’s just fluffy.”

  “Uh-huh,” Gabe said.

  Fred leaped up and put his front paws on her leg, trying to climb into her lap like he did when he was a puppy. She hauled him up and peered around Fred’s shoulder. “So can you help us? I’ve got two months left on my lease. And there’s no way I’m getting rid of Fred. My landlord knew very well I had a dog. I’ve had him for eight months already.”

  Gabe studied the lease for a few minutes and finally looked up. “How much does he weigh?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t weighed him lately.” She stroked Fred’s thick mane. “He’s just fluffy,” she said defensively.

  “The lease says you can have a dog under twenty-five pounds.”

  “He was under twenty-five pounds when I got him.”

  His sharp blue eyes studied her. “Did you piss off the landlord?”

  “Me?” she huffed. “Why do you think it’s me? Maybe John is the one with the problem.”

  Gabe reached across the desk and pulled a folder from Fred’s ever-chewing mouth. “You say you’ve had Fred for eight months with no problem.”

  “That is correct.”

  “This isn’t a courtroom,” Gabe said.

  “Can you rephrase the question?” she asked with a grin.

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile that revealed a dimple in his stubbled cheek. Her mind wandered to what that stubble would feel like scraping against her as his mouth—Fred licked her cheek, distracting her. She ruffled his fur.

  Truth be told, she’d had a little crush on Gabe for weeks and always waited his table whether or not he was sitting in her section. She’d held back on the flirting, though, on account of his reputation as a “ruthless, money-grubbing, slick city lawyer just like his dad” and, what really gave her pause, some dark whispers about his ex-fiancée’s death she’d heard at Garner’s, aka gossip central. Still, she’d been drawn to him and found it hard to reconcile the reputation that preceded him with the man who always left a generous tip and seemed to help so many people in town with legal problems. In any case, if he was as aggressive and ruthless a lawyer as reported to be, she wanted him on her side.

  Gabe spoke up. “If I’m going to be your lawyer, I need the whole story. To be honest, with this lease you signed, you don’t have much of a case. Unless we can prove the eviction is malicious.”

  Zoe’s lips formed a flat line. Gabe waited patiently. Did she want to tell him all the embarrassing details? She didn’t know him all that well. He’d been five years ahead of her in school. She’d only been his waitress for about a month, ever since she’d come back to town from her six-week gig singing on a cruise ship. She knew his brothers better. Luke, who was in her class (a clean-cut cutie); his younger brother Jared (a rough, grubby boy) a grade behind; and his stepbrother Nico, a grade ahead, that every girl in the whole school crushed on. His other two stepbrothers, Vince and Angel, she didn’t know well and hadn’t seen in years.

  Fred started choking, and Zoe rescued Gabe’s stapler from his devouring mouth. Honestly, Fred would eat anything. She’d caught him with cat poop in his mouth last time they’d visited her sister, Jasmine’s house. The kitty litter all over his nose was a dead giveaway.

  She let out a breath. “It’s possible this is a revenge eviction. I might have had a teeny, little—” she lowered her voice and brought her pointer finger and thumb together to show him just how tiny “—fling with the landlord, but that’s over.” She raised her chin. “And P.S. he’s a sleazy asshole.”

  Gabe raised a brow. “P.S.? Were we corresponding?”

  “Corra-what?”

  “You have a strange way of speaking,” Gabe said.

  Zoe narrowed her eyes. “Can you help us or not?”

  Fred leaped off her lap and ran to the front door, barking his head off. Probably another plane overhead. He went nuts for planes and helicopters.

  Gabe shoved a hand through his already disheveled light brown hair. “I could talk to the landlord.”

  “You would? That would be great.” She beamed at him. He looked back at her, all lawyerly and professional, his dark blue eyes giving nothing away. He’d be excellent at poker. “Can you speak lawyer to him? Really put the fear of jail into him.”

  He folded long fingers together in front of him, and her mind wandered to what those long fingers could do to a woman. Her cheeks heated. She was just getting out of an impulsive, ill-advised fling. The last thing she needed was to jump into another one. Especially with her lawyer in his preppy lawyer-guy white button-down shirt and khakis. She mentally unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, imagining golden skin and just a smattering of chest hair, maybe some nice pecs—

  “I’ll speak to him as your lawyer,” he said. “I doubt I’ll put the fear of jail into him.”

  Gabe was all business. Clearly his mind wasn’t wandering in the same slutty direction as hers. She brought her mind back to the task at hand—making her case for Fred. “John deserves it the way he preys on innocent fluffy dogs.”

  Gabe wrote the phone number from the lease on a Post-it and handed the lease back to her. “I’ll be in touch.”

  She stuffed the lease back in her purse. “That’s it?”

  He raised his brows. “Were you expecting something else?”

  “Well, are you going to bill me or put me on retainer?”

  He shook his head with a
smile. It made him look younger, that smile, and less like an intimidating lawyer. “You would put me on retainer, not the other way round.”

  “Oh. So how much?”

  “Zoe,” he said gently, “can you really afford a lawyer on a waitress’s salary?”

  “Not really,” she admitted. A waitress with singing gigs (that she had to split four ways with her band) didn’t have much, or anything, saved in the bank for a rainy, I-need-a-lawyer day.

  “It’s pro bono.” He stood, snagged Fred’s toy from the floor, and walked around the desk to her side. “On the house for being such a good waitress and always keeping my coffee cup full.”

  “Thank you. If there’s ever anything I can do for you. Extra fries or something.”

  He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound, like he hadn’t laughed in a while.

  “Your bone,” he said, handing her the toy. Now why did that sound dirty? She took the toy, and his long fingers brushed hers, leaving a warm tingle. Okay, she was prone to tingling with good-looking guys, but she was only human, right? Of course, that path had never ended well for her. She should really look for a nice clean-shaven, boy-next-door type like her brother-in-law, Will. He treated her sister, Jasmine, like a goddess.

  “I heard you were a singer.” He gazed down at her, and she found she couldn’t look away from those dark blue eyes that seemed warmer now. His voice turned husky. “Let me know if you ever perform locally.”

  She breathed in his clean, masculine scent. They’d never stood face to face before. Usually he was seated at a table, and she was standing. He wasn’t overly large, maybe five foot nine to her five foot four, but he somehow radiated strength and something in her responded with a secret thrill. She felt suddenly shy and awkward, not at all like herself. “Waitressing just pays the bills.”

  “I figured. I’d love to hear you sing.”

  “I’ve got a gig on Valentine’s Day!” she chirped. She tried to cover up her embarrassing nervous voice by grabbing Fred and tucking him into his stroller. “At the dance at the Jorge Chavez Dance Studio,” she said over her shoulder, “if you want to give a listen.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. “Actually I was already planning on going. I’m helping Shane with the catering.”