by Devney Perry
“Oh, I disagree.” Mia smiled. “You just need some practice. Let’s give that last chord one more try.”
“Okay.” I picked up the ukulele off my lap and carefully placed my fingers.
She adjusted my index finger. “Move this one here.”
I strummed the strings, and for the first time, the sound that came from my instrument was actually melodic. My eyes shot up to Mia’s as a huge smile spread on my face. “I did it!”
“See? No musical talent,” she scoffed. “Practice makes progress.”
I liked that. Progress. Not perfect.
I strummed the strings again, then set down the instrument, wanting to end my lesson on a good note. “Thank you so much, Mia.”
“You’re welcome. Let me get you a few things. Sit tight.” She set down her own ukulele and stood, disappearing into the back room.
My eyes wandered over the small, square space. Three guitars hung on the far wall, and the two perched in the corner were covered in bright patterned scarves. At my side was a black upright piano—the top covered with colorful frames and pictures of happy students. The floral couch I was sitting on took up the other free wall, leaving just enough space for the wooden chair Mia had positioned in the middle of the room so she could sit across from me during our lesson.
Mia’s music studio was as eclectic as its owner.
I’d found Mia Crane through Google. She’d had so many five-star reviews for her guitar lessons I hadn’t hesitated to ask if she’d be my ukulele instructor, and when I’d pulled up to her house an hour ago, I’d known I’d made the right choice.
Mia had been waiting for me to arrive, standing barefoot on her front porch. One look at her carefree smile and the nerves I’d had about these lessons had vanished. She’d wrapped me in a hug instead of a handshake, then led me to her music studio—this small, cute building she’d built next to her home.
“Okay, pretty Poppy.” Her singsong voice preceded her as she came out from the back.
Pretty Poppy. My family had called me that as a child too.
The light scent of eucalyptus and cucumber lotion returned with Mia. Her long brown hair was braided loosely over one shoulder, and the number of bangles strung up one arm was nearly as impressive as her enormous hoop earrings.
“You can take that ukulele home.” She set down a black case on the couch. “Here is a case and I included some notes on what to practice this week.”
“Thank you.” I stood and smoothed down my black shift dress. “I really appreciate you taking me as a student.” She’d told me when I’d called that she was full but she’d find a way to squeeze me in.
“My pleasure. I love all my kids, but having adult students can be so much fun. Once we get you through the basics, we can jam.”
I laughed. I’d never heard a ukulele “jam” before, but if anyone could make it cool, it was Mia Crane.
“Have you been teaching for long?” I asked as I packed up the instrument.
“For years. Ever since my kids started kindergarten. I was so bored and lonely while they were at school I decided to start teaching guitar during the day.”
“Do your kids play?”
“My daughter.” Her eyes softened. “Evie’s a music teacher at the high school now. But I never have been able to convince my son. He was always too active in sports and wasn’t really interested.”
A car door slammed outside and Mia’s smile got so big I couldn’t help but smile back. “Speak of the devil. I guilted him into coming over for dinner tonight.”
“Then I’ll get out of your hair.” I snapped the case closed and looped my purse over my forearm. “See you next week?”
“I’ll be here. And if you ever need to adjust your schedule for the restaurant, just let me know. It’s just me and my husband these days and he’s always working.” She grinned. “We can do a lesson later in the evening. I’ll supply the wine.”
I smiled. “I’d like that. And I’ll bring the chocolate.”
“I knew I liked you.”
We both were laughing as we stepped through the door from her studio onto the pathway that led toward the front of her house.
“Mom?” a man’s voice called from around the porch.
My feet stilled and my smile faltered. I knew that voice.
“Back here, Cole!” Mia yelled.
Cole was Mia’s son?
Yep. He sure is.
He rounded the corner of the house and stopped. The shock on his face mirrored mine, but he recovered first.
“Hey.” Surprise morphed into a slow grin as his eyes locked with mine and he started toward us again. He wasn’t wearing his normal sunglasses today and his eyes were bright in the early-evening sun.
“Hi.” Damn that breath hitch! I sounded like a lovestruck teenager.
My body’s natural reaction to Cole was not in line with my mind. In the week since I’d seen him, I’d been trying to make sense of Cole Goodman. Of how he made me feel.
I’d been trying with no luck.
Cole brought up a lot of emotions that I wasn’t quite ready to explore.
It bothered me that even after a week, I could close my eyes and still see his. That I could still smell his Irish Spring soap. Yet I couldn’t remember what Jamie smelled like anymore.
So I’d resigned myself to keeping some space from Cole—to getting some distance until I had this attraction under control. I’d keep our relationship strictly professional as he looked into Jamie’s murder case.
So much for my intentions.
I’d signed up for ukulele lessons from his mother.
“I see you know Poppy,” Mia said as Cole reached her side.
He tore his eyes from mine to smile at his mom, then bent to kiss her cheek. “Sure do. Hi, Mom.”
She patted his chest. “I’m surprised I even recognized you. How long has it been? A year? Two?”
He chuckled and pulled her into his arms. “So dramatic.” His smile was wide as he looked over her head to the ukulele case in my hand. “You survived her torture chamber? I’m impressed.”
“Cole!” Mia slugged him in the gut.
“Ouf. Jesus, Mom.” He pretended to be hurt, letting her go and stepping back to rub his extremely flat stomach. “And you wonder why I don’t visit more often.”
She laughed and I looked to my feet, taking a few seconds to banish all thoughts of Cole’s abs.
“So how do you two know each other?” Mia asked, looking between us.
“Uh . . .” How did I explain this? Your son was there on the worst night of my life. Your son is looking into my husband’s murder case. Your son makes me feel things I don’t want to be feeling.
Nope. Those wouldn’t work.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to explain because Cole came to my rescue. “Poppy came to the dojo the other night.”
“Karate and ukulele?” Mia asked. “And a business owner. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.” My eyes found Cole’s, and I glanced back at Mia. “I’ll see you next—”
“You’ll stay for dinner,” Mia interrupted.
“Oh, no. Thank you, but I don’t want to intrude on a family dinner.” The ukulele case swung wildly at my side as I waved my arms.
Cole stepped past his mom and right into my space, and—damn it—my breath hitched again. Enough of that already.
“Here.” Cole reached down and took the case from my hand. The brush of his fingers sent a shudder through my shoulders. “You might as well give in now. She’s more stubborn than me and Dad combined. You don’t stand a chance.”
“But—”
“Come on, kids.” Mia marched toward the side door of her house. “Cole, you give Poppy the tour while I get started on dinner.”
“Okay, Mom,” he called and started to follow.
“I should really go.”
He just kept walking. “You heard the woman in charge. In we go.”
I stayed stuck on the pathway. I didn’t want to be rud
e to Mia but another personal dinner with Cole would only add more confusion to my already jumbled feelings.
“Poppy.” When Cole hit the doorstep, he glanced over his shoulder. “Dinner. Come on.”
“But—”
“If you don’t come in here, she’ll come after you, and trust me, you don’t want that. It’s just dinner.”
It’s just dinner.
I had told myself that weeks ago when Cole had eaten dinner with me at the restaurant. Except it wasn’t just dinner. It was dinner with a man whose touch made me tingle. It was dinner with a man who seemed to bust right through my defenses. It was dinner with a man who stirred feelings I’d reserved for my husband alone.
“Hi, Son.”
I broke my gaze away from Cole’s back as another man rounded the side of the house. His necktie was loose and his suit jacket was draped over one arm. Without asking, I knew this must be Cole’s dad. They looked nearly identical except for their age difference. Cole’s dad had a liberal sprinkling of gray in his dark hair and he was a bit softer in the jaw than his son.
“Hey, Dad. Meet Poppy Maysen. She’s staying for dinner.” Cole nodded toward me, then stepped out of the way so his dad could go inside.
“Hi, Poppy. I’m Brad.” He waved. “Come on in and make yourself at home.”
“Actually, I should be . . .”
Brad disappeared into his house before I could finish my sentence.
“They’ll be disappointed if you don’t stay,” Cole said.
Sheesh. “A guilt trip? Really?”
He grinned. “Whatever gets you inside.”
Two hours later, I stood on the front porch of Cole’s childhood home with a huge smile.
Dinner had been . . . just dinner.
Cole must have sensed my internal turmoil because he’d focused mostly on his parents throughout the meal. He’d teased Mia about her two-decade obsession with General Hospital. He’d argued with his dad about the Montana State Bobcat football roster and their chances at making it to the playoffs in the fall. And he’d treated me like I’d been to dinner a hundred times before. Like I was a natural fourth at their dinner table who just needed the occasional explanation for an inside joke.
And his parents had provided the perfect buffer to the attraction between us.
“Thank you for joining us.” Mia hugged me on the front porch.
“You’re welcome. Thank you for the meal. I haven’t had anything that delicious in a long time.”
Cole laughed. “Now she’s lying, Mom. You should eat at her restaurant.”
“Oh, we plan to,” Mia declared. “We’re going tomorrow night. Got it, Chief? You be home by six.”
“Yes, Ms. Crane,” Brad agreed as Mia slid into his side.
I smiled at their endearments as I waved good-bye. At dinner, I’d learned that Brad and Mia had married young but she’d never taken his last name. She called him “Chief” because of his job and he called her “Ms. Crane.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Cole said, carrying my ukulele case down the steps.
Brad and Mia disappeared back inside as Cole led me down the front walkway and toward my car a few houses down.
“Your mom is such a good cook.”
Cole hummed. “You’ve got her beat.”
“I don’t know about that, but thank you.”
I rolled my eyes at the sound of my breathy voice. Why couldn’t I seem to fill my lungs when Cole and I were alone? He’d sat across from me at dinner and I hadn’t had any problems breathing. But now? I felt like I’d just run five miles.
I took a few slow breaths, hoping that when I spoke again my voice would be back to normal. “Have you found out anything on the case?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “Not quite yet.”
His eyebrows were furrowed and a couple lines creased his forehead. There was something he wasn’t telling me, but I didn’t press. I was simply grateful he was assisting Detective Simmons.
“So the ukulele?” he asked, changing topics. “I’m guessing this is another thing on the list.”
I smiled. “You’d be right. Though, I can’t believe that of all the guitar instructors in Bozeman, I happened to pick your mother as my teacher.” Or that I’d walked into his karate dojo.
“Coincidence.” He chuckled. “It kind of seems like a recurring theme for us.”
Was it ever. I was just grateful he hadn’t mentioned all of these coincidences to his parents. Cole had stayed quiet all night about how we really knew one another, giving me a chance to enjoy the evening’s conversation with people who hadn’t known Jamie. It was nice to have a night when no one looked at me with pity or concern about my emotional state.
Tonight, I’d just been Poppy.
“My mother is kind of in love with you. Expect a dinner mandate after each of your lessons.”
I was kind of in love with Mia too. “Then next week, I’ll be sure to bring dessert.”
“Dessert. That reminds me, I still haven’t tried your famous apple pie.”
“I’ll be at the restaurant tomorrow if you want to swing by.” The invitation popped out of my mouth before my head could intercede. And once it was out, there was no taking it back.
Cole smiled as we reached my car. “Then it’s a date.”
A date.
A date with Cole Goodman.
A rush of excitement and a chill of terror slid down my spine.
Chapter Six
41st Birthday: Say yes to everything for an entire day
COLE
“What the fuck?”
I hit the brakes hard, barely making the turn into the parking lot where a Bozeman PD cruiser was parked behind a seventies mint-green Oldsmobile. The patrolman had his ticket clipboard in one hand, while the other was making calming gestures to an irate woman with frizzy gray hair. Her teal muumuu was swinging around her ankles and fuzzy pink bedroom slippers as she poked one knotty finger into the patrolman’s chest.
As I pulled in right behind the cruiser, I could hear her yelling and cussing over the sound of my diesel engine. Throwing the truck in park, I didn’t bother shutting it off as I hustled out to the scene. Five long strides and I stood behind the patrolman—Officer Terrell Parnow. He was doing his best to hold his ground, but the woman wasn’t small and her jabbing finger was going nonstop.
The woman glanced at me but kept on yelling. “I’m calling my damn lawyer and you, you son of a—”
“What seems to be the problem?” My voice held enough bark to shut the crazy lady up. Her eyes flew to mine as Terrell looked over his shoulder.
His frame deflated as his hand dropped to his side. “Detective Goodman. I was just writing a ticket because—”
“I’ll tell you what the problem is here.” The woman stepped right around Terrell and into my face. “This kid is trying to give me a speeding ticket when I wasn’t speeding!”
“Ma’am, you were doing forty in a twenty-five.” He looked to me with pleading brown eyes. “Honest, Detective. I’ve got her on radar.”
She whirled around on Terrell—her muumuu whipping me in the shins—but before she could launch into another rant, I stepped between them. I stood my tallest, looking right down my nose into the woman’s paling face. “Speeding and assault on a law enforcement officer. Not good.”
She stuttered back a step, slapping a hand to her chest. “What?” she gasped. “Assault?”
“That’s right.”
“But—”
“Officer Parnow, mind if I borrow your cuffs? I left mine in the truck.”
The woman gasped again.
“Detective, I don’t, um . . .” He moved out from behind me to my side, speaking underneath his breath. “I don’t think we need to charge her with assault.”
“I’ll take the speeding ticket.” The woman flew to Terrell’s side like he was her new best friend. “Please.”
I held back a grin, fighting to keep the scowl on my face. “I don’t know. It looked
awful serious when I pulled up.”
“I get carried away sometimes,” she told me, then looked over to Terrell, nodding fiercely. “I was going too fast. You were right.”
Terrell looked to me and I shrugged. “It’s your call, Officer.”
He nodded, turning back to the woman who was now clinging to his arm. “Ma’am, if you’ll get back in your car, I’ll finish with the speeding ticket. Then you can be on your way.”
“Oh, thank you.” She squeezed his arm and then let him go, ducking eye contact with me as she scurried back into her Olds.
When her driver’s door shut, I chuckled.
“Would you have charged her?” Terrell asked.
“Nah. I just wanted to shut her up.”
Terrell grinned. “Smart.”
I shrugged and jerked my chin to the Olds. “Give her the ticket and get her on her way.”
“Yes, sir.” He took his clipboard back to her window, returning her license and registration. Then he tore off a goldenrod speeding ticket and away she roared, pulling out of the parking lot with—careful—haste.
“Thanks.” Terrell joined me by his cruiser and sighed. “That got out of hand. Seems to be happening to me a lot lately.”
“Unfortunately, that’s part of the job.”
“Every time? I haven’t had a stop in a month without getting a load of shit. Do you think I’m doing something wrong?”
“I doubt it.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll go out on patrol with you for a while.”
His entire face lit up. “Really?”
“Really. Let me grab my keys.” I walked back to my truck, leaning in to shut off the ignition and get my keys. Then I plucked my sunglasses out of the console and went to the cruiser.
Sliding into the passenger seat, I grinned at Terrell’s excitement. His dark face was split with a wide, white smile, and his fingers drummed on the wheel.
“So you’ve been having some rough stops lately?” I asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.
“Yeah.” His smile turned down. “No matter how polite I am, everyone fights the ticket. I asked a couple of the other guys on patrol, but none of them seem to be having the same problem.”