For the next thirty minutes, she concentrated on the task at hand, forcing everything else out of her head, although she tensed every time she thought she heard a car door close or footsteps on her porch. But it was always nothing, and eventually she started to relax.
When she was done, she glanced at the clock and realized it was six. While she wasn't hungry, Lady Jane probably was.
Grabbing her phone, she opened her front door, took a cautious look up and down the block and then headed across the street and into the Bakers' house. Lady Jane came into the kitchen as soon as she set down her food. While the cat ate dinner, she cleaned the litter box and watered the indoor house plants, which reminded her that she also needed to take a look at the yard before she went home.
She tried to pet Lady Jane, offer her a little love, but the cat ran away as soon as her plate was clean, returning to her safe space under the bed in the master bedroom. She clearly had no interest in being friends with the stranger who had invaded her house.
Chelsea smiled to herself, thinking she and Lady Jane actually had something in common.
She locked up the house, then went into the front yard to water the plants that the sprinklers didn’t reach. She'd no sooner turned on the hose, when she heard a door close.
Brodie was done giving her space.
He came through the side yard, giving her a cautious smile. "Don't worry, I come in peace and without any questions."
"I seriously doubt that." She cocked her head to the right as a thought occurred to her. "Or maybe you already spoke to Austin?"
"No. Your sister kicked him out of the inn. But I don't think he's gone from Whisper Lake. He seemed intent on staying to talk to you."
"I can't imagine why. But thank you for getting in his way when I left."
"I could see you didn't want to talk to him—even more than you didn't want to talk to me."
"You were right." She paused, then added, "Austin and I were involved for a while."
"I figured."
"It's been over a year since it ended. I don't know why he came here now."
"Maybe he's not done."
"It doesn't matter. I'm completely done. And he knows that."
"I can't say I'm sorry to hear that."
"That doesn't mean I'm going to date you."
His grin warmed her all the way through. "I still think I might be able to change your mind."
"Trust me, you can't."
"I think trust is part of the problem—on your end, not mine," he said.
"You're not wrong," she admitted. "But that's the way it is."
"Do you want to share a pizza?"
His simple invitation made her jaw drop. "I just said—"
"It's not a date," he interrupted. "It's pizza. I'm hungry. I just ordered an extra-large. I can't eat it all by myself."
He was really hard to resist, especially when she didn't want to resist. She turned off the hose and put it back against the house, stalling for time.
"Uh, Chelsea," Brodie said. "A taxi just pulled up in front of your house."
She took a quick look. Dammit! It was Austin. She quickly slipped around the corner of the house, and Brodie followed.
"Come on. You can hide out in my house," he said, leading her through the break in the bushes.
She hurried behind him, wanting to get out of sight before Austin saw her.
"You're safe," Brodie said, closing the kitchen door behind her.
"You must think I'm an idiot."
He grinned. "Actually, I think you're having dinner with me."
She let out a tense breath. "I guess I am."
Austin's arrival had certainly been fortuitous, Brodie thought, as Chelsea moved into the living room to peek through the front window. Following her, he saw that the taxi had left, but Austin was now sitting on the steps leading up to Chelsea's porch. He pulled out his guitar and started to play.
Chelsea backed away from the window. "I can't believe he's just sitting there."
"He seems determined to speak to you. But I can run him off, tell him he's trespassing."
As much as she would like that, she didn't want Brodie any more involved in her personal life. "I'm sure he'll eventually get bored and leave."
"I'm sure," Brodie agreed.
As she glanced around the room at the stack of moving boxes, she added, "You need to unpack."
"I know. I haven't gotten around to it yet."
"I guess you haven't gotten around to buying furniture, either?" she asked, noting the empty room.
"The bedroom has furniture and the family room. That's as far as I've gotten."
She moved into the hall and toward the back of the house, ending up in the small family room off the kitchen. "You call a brown leather recliner and a giant TV furniture?"
"It's all I need."
"As long as you plan to watch TV alone."
"Well, if I find someone is interested in joining me, I might buy a couch. Interested?"
"I'm not really into TV."
"What are you into?"
"I like to read, do yoga, bike, hike…" She shrugged. "I keep busy."
"I like to bike as well. There are some great mountain trails not far from here."
"I'm not so much of an off-road rider. I prefer the spin class at the gym."
"No way. You're in Colorado. You need to be outside. Have you ever ridden Widow's Peak?"
"I haven't, although I've heard the views are incredible, if you can make it up the mountain."
"The views are spectacular. We should do it sometime."
"I would need to work up to that."
He gave her a smile. "Work up to the bike ride or work up to going with me?"
"Maybe both," she admitted.
He crossed his arms in front of his chest, appreciating the candor in her blue eyes. "It's funny, Chelsea. You're very private, almost secretive, but then occasionally you have an honesty that comes out of nowhere. It's like the real you peeks out from behind the curtain every now and then."
Her gaze filled with shadows. "I know you have a lot of questions and considering the fact that I'm hiding out in your house, you're probably owed a few answers. But I haven't been able to talk about anything with anyone, not even my family."
"Why not? Your sister and brother seem very supportive. I don't know about the rest of your family, but I can't see Adam or Lizzie judging you. Is that what you're worried about?"
"It's not that."
"Then what is it? What stops you from sharing? Can you tell me that much?" At her hesitation, he added, "Come into the kitchen. We'll have a beer and sit down. You can decide if there's anything you feel comfortable talking about." He was afraid that changing locations might shut her down. On the other hand, he'd like this conversation to be longer than five minutes and standing in the middle of his family room probably wouldn't lead to that. He really did need to get more furniture.
Chelsea followed him into the kitchen. He pulled out two beers, handed her one, and then sat down at the table across from her.
She took a sip of beer and then said, "I can tell you a little of my story."
"I'm listening."
"I started singing when I was four years old. I remember the very first occasion when I sang in public; it was the library during story and song time. I was louder than everyone else. By the time I was ten, I was singing in church, at school recitals, and at local fairs. At twelve, I started playing the guitar and writing my own songs. In high school, I was in a band, and we were good enough to get the attention of a local agent, and he started booking us for local shows. But the band was filled with drama, and it didn't work out. That's when my parents convinced me to go to college."
"Did you stop singing then?"
"No. I kept at it. I spent most of my weekends playing in coffeehouses or performing at clubs on open mic nights. I also did a lot of writing. I must have had twenty songs done by the time I graduated, not that all of them were very good. Then I moved to Nashvill
e. I lived in an apartment complex with a lot of young singers and musicians. That's when I met Austin. He lived across the hall. We were both in our early twenties." She cleared her throat.
"Anyway," she continued. "I was performing in a dive bar on Broadway when, shockingly enough, I got the attention of a music scout. He came back three nights in a row, and then suddenly I was signing a contract at a big label. Shortly thereafter, they signed Austin as well. They'd heard us sing a duet at one of the clubs, and they encouraged us to write a song together. Our song caught fire and flew up the charts. We were both getting offers to open for big stars. Jessalyn West, the queen of country music, invited me to perform with her. She took me under her wing, and I thought my dreams were finally coming true."
"It sounds like they were," he commented, surprised that her little share was turning out to have a lot of depth, but he still wanted more.
"But the reality was so much different than I'd expected. I wasn't prepared for celebrity."
"I'm not sure anyone is. I know I wasn't. For me, it was only about skiing in the beginning, and then there came a time when it seemed to be about everything but skiing."
"Exactly. It was no longer just about music. I didn't realize how public my life would become, with cameras everywhere, social media attacks, online articles that were completely fabricated. I had never been loved so much or hated so much at the same time. I learned that I couldn't trust anyone, and that the simplest sentence could be taken out of context. When I quit music, I didn't tell anyone why, not even my family or friends, because if the press went to them, if they asked them anything, and even if they tried not to talk…"
"A story would be made up, whether there was any truth to it or not," he finished. "I get it. You didn't want to drag your family through the mud. I've dealt with fame and with words being taken out of context to make a better story. I know the feeling of frustration and anger that can bring forth."
"It's not always even a half-truth; sometimes it's just a blatant lie. I didn't even know half the men who I was allegedly sleeping with. One was a film star and thirty years older than me, as if that was going to happen."
He smiled at her disgruntled expression. "I once allegedly had a threesome with a mother and daughter, and I'm pretty sure they're the ones who made the story up."
"Did you know them?"
"They took a selfie with me after a ski race. I didn't know their names, but we were on a tabloid cover together."
"I'm so glad you understand, Brodie, because my family doesn't. They're offended and hurt by my distance, my lack of communication. They don't think I trust them, but that's not it at all."
"You're protecting them."
"Yes. I don't want their lives to suffer from the spotlight the way mine did." She lifted the beer bottle to her lips and took a swig. Then she let out a breath. "I haven't said that much about my past in the last eighteen months. I actually feel a little lighter."
She'd no sooner finished speaking when the doorbell rang, and panic filled her eyes.
"Relax," he said. "It's probably the pizza."
"It could be Austin. Maybe he saw me slip through the bushes and into your house."
"If he had, he would have rung the bell sooner. But if it is him, I won't let him in. Stay here."
He walked down the hall and opened the front door to a scrawny teen wearing a blue shirt with the Village Square Pizza logo. He handed over some cash and took the box from the kid. He couldn't help but notice that Austin was still sitting on Chelsea's porch, music flowing from his guitar. An older couple who lived down the street had paused to listen. He had a feeling the crowd might get bigger before the night was over.
Chelsea wouldn't be going home anytime soon, and that was just fine with him.
Chapter Seven
"Pizza," Brodie said, as he returned to the kitchen.
She blew out the breath she'd been holding. "Did you happen to notice if Austin was still on my porch?"
"Yes, he is. He's playing his guitar. An older couple from down the street stopped to listen."
"Great. If he stays out there, he'll draw an even bigger crowd. This is exactly what I didn't want. I got a lot of attention when I first moved here. There were always people staring at me, trying to take a selfie with me in the background, but eventually, after several months, it dissipated. Even the parents at the school where I teach lost their interest in me. I became just their kid's music teacher."
"Somehow I find that a little difficult to believe if you were as big as you said you were."
"Well, maybe they just came to accept that I wasn't going to talk about my life. I don't know. I was just happy when I could start living like a normal person. Now that might change with Austin in town."
He opened the pizza box and set it on the table. "Well, you don't have to hurry home. We have a lot of pizza to get through." He moved to the counter to grab plates and napkins.
Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of the pocket of her jeans. She'd almost forgotten it was there. It was a message from Austin.
I really need to talk to you, Chelsea. I'm at your house. When will you be home?
"Is that from Austin?" Brodie asked, as he sat down across from her and slid a large slice of pizza onto his plate.
"Yes. I don't know how he got my number, but he wants to know when I'm coming back."
Her fingers flew as she texted: I won't be home tonight. I have nothing to say to you. Please leave me alone.
He replied instantly. Not without a conversation. You owe me that, Chelsea. We used to love each other.
I don't owe you anything. We said good-bye a long time ago.
She put the phone back in her pocket, ignoring the next incoming text. She didn't want to read anything else Austin had to say. She wished she could get away from Brodie's watchful gaze, but she couldn't go home. At least there was food, and she'd been a fan of Village Square Pizza since she'd moved to Whisper Lake.
"Ready to eat?" Brodie asked, already halfway through his first slice.
"Yes," she said, the delicious aroma taking over her senses. She hadn't thought she was hungry, but now she was starving.
"By the way, I spoke to Adam about Travis's drawing," Brodie said.
"What did he think?"
"That you might be right about Travis knowing something. The trick is getting the information out of him."
"I've already tried to talk to him about it."
"What if you did another drawing exercise and asked the kids to think about putting more details in their pictures? If they're drawing cars, what numbers are on the license plate? What color is the vehicle? Are there people around? Are they young, old, do they wear baseball caps? That kind of thing."
"If I ask Travis to put numbers on a license plate, he might just make them up."
"That's true. But you never know."
"You really think the vehicle is a clue?"
"I honestly have no idea, but we have come up empty, and the two fires were exactly fourteen days apart. It's been eight days since the fire across the street from Travis's house."
A shiver ran down her spine. "I didn't know there was a pattern."
"It's not a pattern with two fires, but it could be the beginning of one. The investigators will be talking to Travis's grandfather again, as well as the neighbors, to find out if anyone noticed a vehicle or van with a floral insignia anywhere on the block."
"It would be great if someone else remembered it. That would be a stronger lead."
"I agree. But until we get confirmation, Travis is all we have."
"Okay, I'll see what I can do. We draw every day, and I already try to encourage details, so the kids won't be surprised if I make a point of it."
"Good. But I have to tell you that Adam would prefer you stay out of this. He doesn't like you getting involved in this investigation. In fact, he would not like me making this suggestion at all." Brodie frowned. "Maybe it's a bad idea."
"It's barely an idea," she s
aid dryly. "I think I can handle it, and Adam can be overprotective."
"He's your brother; it's his job."
"And it's my job to make sure my students are okay. Travis is clearly troubled by the fire. I'll see if I can encourage a few more details during art tomorrow. I don't think that will put me in any danger."
"I'll trust your instincts."
"Good."
"When does the summer session end?"
"A week from tomorrow, so six more days of teaching, not that I'm counting."
He smiled. "Doesn't sound like the job is completely fulfilling."
"I'm just a little out of my depth because I'm used to teaching music for a couple of periods a day where the kids come and go or I'm subbing somewhere. The past five weeks have been a lot more work than I imagined. I'm ready for a break. Although, I'm sure it will go fast—probably faster than I'd like."
"Time goes too slow when you want it to go fast and too fast when you want it to go slow. There are only some very rare moments when everything is perfect."
"That's very insightful."
"I'm not just a pretty face," he said with a laugh.
No, he was far more than that, which was why she shouldn't have picked his house to hide out in. She could have gone into the Bakers' house and stayed there all night. In fact, she could still do that if Austin didn't leave soon.
Why hadn't she thought of that sooner? Before she'd told Brodie so much about her past. Although, there was still a lot she hadn't said. And as good as it had felt to let some of the words out, there were some she needed to keep inside her head.
After finishing two slices of pizza, she wiped her mouth and pushed her plate away. "That was good."
"Best pizza I've had in a long time."
"Seriously?" she questioned. "I would venture a guess that you've eaten at some of the finest restaurants in the world."
"Oh, I have, and I know a good pizza when I taste one. I suspect you've been in a few Michelin-starred restaurants as well."
"Not as often as I've eaten at the bar of a honky-tonk." She sat back in her chair. "So, did you ever have a threesome, Brodie?"
My Wildest Dream: Whisper Lake #2 Page 6