Chapter 4

"So, is it true? Was Skyla Bridey here the other night?" Kiley leaned her elbows on the table, eyes alight as she waited for her lunch pizza.

"Yep. And you and the MM crew weren't here." Kirsten fought the urge to tense up. Skyla Bridey was the commercial, shiny shit that she hated. She knew she wasn't good enough to make it; she knew this small-town stuff was the best she could hope for.

But she still wanted to keep this tiny part of Summit Springs for herself, dammit.

"Damn. I hear she sang with you."

"She hijacked my set, you mean?"

"Ouch." Kiley's girlfriend, Brittany, winced. "That's kinda sketchy."

"She's just so used to it, I think. Singing lead. She couldn't help it." Kirsten shrugged, trying not to be a twat. She was at work, wasn't she? She needed to remember she was representing Cherry, not herself.

"Mmm. She's hot, though. Is she that hot in person?" Kiley asked.

"She's pretty. Blonde, femme, stacked like a brick shithouse."

"Yum." They all had to grin at each other.

She blew out a breath. "I'm just jealous, I think. I mean, she's so…mainstream."

"Well, you aren't. Nothing about you is mainstream."

"Except for my Tuesday set, right?" she teased, laughing good and hard.

"Right." Kiley waved a hand. "Don't worry. No one will believe you meant to do that."

"I will stomp you with my big girl boots, woman," she threatened.

"I'm not scared of you. You're a kitten."

"Speaking of kittens…" Kirsten had six of them in her house, and they needed homes.

"Nope. I have a border collie." Kiley shook her head resolutely. "They would all end up in my closet living in my boots or something to get away from her."

Brittany grinned. "She herds houseplants."

"She'd love one. She could sing her little herding song to it…"

"No. No, no, no." Kiley crossed her arms and looked stern.

"What is Kiley no-ing." Liz Apodaca wandered over, beer in hand.

"I have kittens. Black and white, orange marmalade, tortoiseshell." She was keeping the calico, because that one looked just like her mama cat, Deenie.

"Oh, wow. I would love one for the office. You know the cabin kids would keep it company at night."

"Absolutely. Come over to the house tomorrow and meet them. They're litter-trained and everything. They have their first two sets of shots too."

"Sure. I'll do that."

"Do what?" Liz's wife joined them. Lupe raised an eyebrow.

"Meet the kittens."

"Oh, God help us." Lupe rolled her eyes. "You and your critters. How many are you getting for the office?"

"One."

Lupe shook her hand. "They'll be lonely. Get two. Two kittens will play together."

"Oh, this is my lucky day." Kirsten chortled. "Oops. I see a patron waving me down. Be right back." She headed off to get drink refills and to-go boxes. It was really slow this time of year on a Monday, but Cherry did a brisk take-out business in the snow, so they all did their part to serve the few and faithful who came in.

She liked her job here—it was easy, she loved Cherry, and she made enough in tips for her needs.

Didn't mean she wasn't ready for shift change so she could hit the coffee shop up before it closed. She would grab a bunch of the end-of-day baked goods at a discount and carb load.

Kirsten delivered her last few pizzas, tipped out the dishwasher, and then took off her apron. "I'm out, y'all. Be good. See you tomorrow night."

"Have a good day, honey!" Kiley called. "Don't let it get to you, with the, you know."

"Never. I'm just a grouch." And she had a headache and needed something with chocolate.

Something rich and decadent and better than sex. Maybe ooey gooey chocolate chip cookies, or a chocolate croissant.

Chocolate croissants…

She shrugged the collar of her coat up, tugging the knit cap out of her pocket. Man, the snow was coming down hard.

She trudged to Caffeine Ivy's, and man, was she ready for coffee when she got there.

It was bitter out.

The place was rocking this afternoon, and the baristas were busting their butts. Kirsten got in line, just standing, waiting for her chance for sugar and caffeine. Making her order, waiting for them to call her name. Grabbing her coffee, waiting for a free table.

Christ, that was sort of the story of her life, wasn't it? She kept waiting for her chance. Trying to find something?—

Oh.

Oh, that was a song!

She kept repeating the lyric until a table opened and she sat and put her pastry down before she grabbed a napkin and started scribbling.

I keep standing

Waiting for my chance

Praying for a

Second chance romance

The door opened, another blast of icy air rushing in, along with a small woman with the hood of her fancy coat pulled up around her face. She headed to the counter, and Kirsten forgot about her until she heard a throat clearing right next to her.

She glanced up, gaze landing on Skyla Bridey's famous blue eyes, minus the gigantic fake lashes. "Oh. Hey."

"Hey." Skyla kept her voice pitched low. "You mind if I sit? It's packed in here, and I kinda know you, at least."

"No worries. Have a seat." Dammit. She was onto something here.

"Thanks. I won't bother you, I promise." Skyla sat, her hood falling back to reveal double braids, no make-up, and a pink turtleneck sweater. She tugged out her phone and started scrolling, giving Kirsten her peace, even when her coffee and croissant arrived.

She went back to work, making notations as she did, and she managed to—almost—forget Skyla was there.

At least until she found herself humming her new song, the music always coming more easily to her than the lyrics, and before she knew it, Skyla was vocalizing with her.

When she looked up, squinting, Skyla's cheeks went pink.

"Sorry. That's a nice vibe."

"Yeah. I'm just—you know. It's a thing." She wasn't a songwriter. No one at Cherry's wanted to hear original shit. Still, it was fun.

"It is. You can tell me to butt out, but if you modulate this bit here…" Skyla hummed.

She nodded and sketched out some notes. "I was thinking something like that with a bridge."

"Oh, I get it. Nice. I like that a lot. You drop a nice bass groove into it…"

"And it's like rocking yourself to sleep in a big recliner, huh?"

"Kinda, but not boring at all."

Suddenly she realized that she was sitting with a Grammy award-winning country singer. This wasn't a friend of hers. This was a star. "It's just for fun, you know?"

"Don't do that." When she glanced up to meet Skyla's gaze, she found it disconcertingly direct. "Don't put it down. Do you love to make music?"

"Yeah."

"Then you're a musician. Period."

"Yeah. I mean, I teach music. I play music. I love it." And she was making most of her living off of it, right?

"Well, there you go!" Skyla's eyes lit up, her smile right back in place. "I just don't think people need to hide their light."

Like it was that easy. She loved her little place, her cats, her students, but there was a part of her that wanted more. She just couldn't have it. She was a Summit Springs girl, and opportunities to shine like a lightning bug weren't thick on the ground.

Kirsten folded up her napkin, tucking it away. "Did I offend you, honey? I didn't mean to."

"Not at all. I'm not used to having someone writing with me." And she was embarrassed, like she'd been caught masturbating or something. "I have to get home. I have kittens to check on. I have six of them, at least today."

Tomorrow she'd have four.

"Six! Aw. How old are they?" Skyla reached out to touch her wrist, keeping her where she was. Freezing her, in fact.

"Nine weeks old. I'm keeping one, and the MM ladies are taking two. That leaves three to re-home."

Skyla lowered her voice. "I hear it's lesbian central around here. How hard can it be to find them homes?"

Wait. Was Skyla Bridey teasing her about lesbian stereotypes?

"If everyone in town has one…" Was she supposed to be amused? Offended? Did she even know? "Lars and Charlotte have dogs."

"Oh. I do too." Skyla chuckled. "She's on the bus right now, but I have a terrier mix."

She pictured a purse dog in a sweater. "What's it mixed with?"

"Black lab."

"Oh, wow. Lots of energy. I have four cats and then the kittens. I adore them." Was she waxing romantic about her cats?

"It sounds like it. So was one of them pregnant when you got her?"

Kirsten nodded. "A rescue. As soon as the kittens go somewhere else and she goes dry I'll get her fixed."

"That's smart. My girl was the same way. She was a puppy mill girl. They kept lying to folks and saying she was all pittie, but all you have to do is look at her ears."

"I bet she's pretty." Her ladies were all gorgeous, just ask her; she'd tell you.

"She is." Those dimples popped up. "But I sure wish I could take a kitten. I'd save them all if I could."

"I hear that." She chuckled, even though she didn't want to. "I've got a reputation down at animal control."

"The only reason I don't is I'm on the road." Skyla leaned across the table. "I'll tell you a secret. When I have time, like here? I go to the shelter and walk the dogs and socialize kitties."

Her opinion of Skyla jumped up about a thousand points. Maybe silly of her, but it was true. "They need it, don't they?"

Truth was, she liked animals way more than people.

"They do. And I give money, but you know, you never can be sure where that really goes. So I go and sit and jabber at them." Skyla shrugged. "Good me time too."

"They're the best listeners." She spent hours with her fuzzy girls after her last dog had died.

"They are. They believe in you, too, when no one else will." Skylar wrinkled up her nose. "And now I'm getting into bad, maudlin country music territory."

She hooted. "You mean it's not all bad?"

"Nope. It's heart music. Sure, some of it is blah blah girl in short shorts with tanned legs, but if you listen to what hardcore country artists are doing, like the Red Dirt folks, you hear soul." There was passion in Skyla's voice, and she got it. She was mostly singer-songwriter slash folk, but she totally got it.

"Hey, if you didn't like what you do, I would worry about you."

Skyla sat back, chuckling. "Right. Sorry. Got on my soapbox, huh? And you just wanted to drink your coffee in peace." She sighed. "The band got delayed, and I'm just knocking around by myself."

"Oh, well…depending on what turns you on, I can make suggestions."

"Can you?" Those petal pink lips parted, Skyla's eyes going wide. "That sounds like a plan."

"Sure." Kirsten knew everyone in town, and she knew the fun shit around. "What's your poison?"

"Well, I like to unwind. Relax some. Or do something silly. I kinda work out for a living, so I mean, I can ski. I know how. But I'd rather watch everyone else do it." That little giggle should have annoyed her, but it was weirdly hot.

"Well, you can do a sleigh ride. There's a place here in town where you can paint and have wine. It's neat and relaxing."

"Now that seems like my kind of thing. Have you tried it?"

She tried to remember that Skyla was just bored. That she wasn't really interested in anyone like her. But man, those slightly raised eyebrows and the teeth sunk into the bottom lip sure made it look real.

And tempting.

"Believe it or not, I have. It's really cool in a totally dorky way." She looked it up on her phone, showing the website. "See? Wine and cowboy boots."

"Oh, I need that in my life." Skyla's blue gaze caught hers. "Wanna go with me?"

Was this a thing?

Could it be a thing?

"Why the hell not? I've never painted this one."

"Yay!" Skyla clapped her hands. "I'm totally ready. I love those little things you paint with jewels, so why not try this?" She looked truly pleased. And those fingers touched the back of her hand, just a quick brush.

Her fingers curled, crushing the napkin with the little song she'd been writing. "Let's do it. It starts in an hour."

"Okay!" Skyla laughed. "Do we need to call to reserve a space?"

"I'll text."

"Sounds perfect. That way we can finish up our coffee and treat."

Lord, that smile was enough to make Kirsten do really stupid stuff.

"You do know that my friends are going to start trying to figure out reasons to say hi, right?" It was only fair to point out.

"That's okay as long as it is with you. I mean, I'm not looking for an audience, if you get me, but I'm not one of those people who cry, ‘My privacy!' either." Skyla waited, looking a little anxious.

"Fair enough. We can go see the kittens while we wait, if you want."

"Heck, yes." Shooting up, Skyla stuffed the last piece of her croissant into her mouth. "Les guh."

Kirsten snorted and stood, then tossed her cup out. "Come on. I'm three blocks over."

She pulled her hat on her head and led Skyla out. "How do you get away without having security guys?"

"Oh, I gave them all some time off and said I was going to an all-inclusive spa."

She gave Skyla a sideways glance. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"If I was in Austin or LA or something I would never do it. I have limits to my madness. But I really wanted to just be able to hang out and relax." Skyla waved a hand.

"And you can see, with my hood up and all, no one even looks at me."

"It is tougher with the coat, for sure." She didn't hurry, but the snow was coming down, good and hard. "We're not far from here."

"So what's the best part about living here? I mean, it's winter wonderland right now. Is it nice in the summer?"

She had to admit, Skyla was curious about everything. Which made her a good songwriter, even if Kirsten did find her stuff super commercial and not to her taste.

At all.

"It's gorgeous. I love being on the river. Lots of river guides." And they were all built like heaven. Kirsten could admire those abs for hours.

"Ah. It's a thing, huh? I saw all the brochures at Cherry's Pies. I've been tubing, but I've never been rafting."

"Like, inner tubes?" They did that in the snow here, but not on the whitewater.

"Yep. We float all day with our cooler in another tube."

"Ah. This isn't that type of river, although I have spent some time in a hippie pool or twelve."

"Okay, explain that to me." Skyla's laugh was infectious.

"A hippie pool is a little natural pool warmed by the hot springs. There are clothing optional ones, public ones. They're amazing, but climbing out of them in the winter? Tough." Still, it was a thing, wasn't it?

"Oh, brr. I can't imagine. Are there indoor hot springs here?"

"Yep. There are a couple of places that have like, bathing rooms. They have kind of like hot tubs but they're hot springs spas."

"Okay, put that on my list." Skyla made a big ticky-mark motion with her hand. "That sounds ah-mazing. I could use a good soak."

"I'll get you the info." She was becoming the Skyla Bridey tour guide, which was weird. But oddly cool. "This is me." Kirsten pointed to the doorway between two of the storefronts on Conifer Avenue. The stairs led up to a little set of three apartments, and one of them was hers. She had good neighbors too. Of them, Mr. Hardiston owned the True Value, and he couldn't hear much anymore, so she could play her music loud. The other side was Linda and Donal McGarry, who were artists and who owned the Laughing Bird Gallery.

They would never bitch about her hours or her sounds.

"Nice. I love those doors. The handles look original."

"They are. They put a more high-tech door inside, though we're still pretty crime free." There had been that whole crazy car chase a while back when Jenny's lady had come to town, and there was petty theft up at the ski resort all the time, but they knew how lucky they were.

"Smart. And I love the old mailboxes."

The brass plate and locking mail slots were original too.

"What's your place like?" Kirsten asked.

"It's a bus."

When she stared, Skyla shrugged. "I go to my folks's place when I need room to run, but I gave up on having an apartment or house for now. I was never there."

"Oh, man. I guess I can see that. I've been in this apartment since I moved out here."

Ten years, give or take. Mrs. Harris loved her, and she adored her landlady.

"Wow. That's neat. Now I can't wait to see it." Skyla grinned. "I mean, you accumulate shit in ten years, and I'm nosy."

"Well, brace yourself for the mess." She was sure the kittens were wreaking havoc.

She prided herself on being cluttered but clean, and she knew her house didn't stink like litter. The apartment was a two-bedroom, with art from hundreds of artists who had passed through town on the walls.

As soon as she flicked on the lights, Skyla was making happy noises. "Oh, look at all your fun art! This is amazing." She immediately began touring the front room. "Oh, honey. What a collection."

It was fascinating to watch Skyla, to see her little place through someone else's eyes. Someone interesting. Hot.

"Meow!" Wacky peered down at her from her lofted bedroom, her pretty little black face framing those emerald green eyes.

"Oh, hello, my love. Where have you been all my life?" Skyla asked. She grinned, holding up a hand.

Wacky stared, nose working, then leaped, and Skyla had fast hands because she caught that little bugger, who started purring right off.

"That's Wacky. I also have Deenie—she's the kittens' mom—and then Marge and Homer and the kitten, Sally."

"Oh my god. Look at that white mustache." Skyla grinned at Sally.

"I had to keep her. She's a calico like mama."

"She's amazing." Skyla carried Wacky around, looking at more art. She hummed at a huge goddess canvas. "That's stunning. Did you date the artist?"

"Can you tell?" It hadn't been love, but it had been hot as hell.

"Yeah. She had a thing for you at least while she was working on this." Skyla tilted her head, taking it in. "You weren't as into her."

Her cheeks heated dully. "No, I wasn't."

"Art always shows it."

"She was a great girl. I liked the hell out of her." She just hadn't loved her.

"That's cool. My last ex was a great drummer. Terrible at monogamy. We're still friends." Skyla let Wacky down when she wiggled and made a warning noise in the way of formerly snuggly cats.

"Have a seat. You want a Coke or a hot tea or something?"

"I would take some tea if we have time."

"We totally do." She'd texted the wine and painting place on the way to her apartment, and Mira had said she'd hold a place for them.

"Cool."

"I have cinnamon, caramel apple, or Irish breakfast."

"Caramel apple sounds yummy."

Watching Skyla explore her apartment was like watching porn with someone you had just started dating. Nerve-wracking, but still hot as hell.

"Your place is like…a hobbit hole. Seriously. I love this. You have pink appliances!"

"I do. This place is a little bit of magic."

"It is!" Skyla did a little flop onto her couch, cushions and cats closing in around her like a cloud. "I mean, damn. I thought the place I was renting was nice, but it's all sterile compared to this."

She got the kettle going, then found two mugs. "Thanks. I have a great view out the balcony."

Skyla popped back up again like a jack-in-the-box. "Can I go peek? I won't let the cold in too much."

Kiersten popped two tea bags into cups. "Come on. I'll show you. It's through the back." She led Skyla to the other end of the apartment and opened the heavy doors with the thick curtains attached. They kept out the weather. There was nothing as amazing as this, as being able to peer out and see the ski mountain, the rivers, the lights from town. This was all the beauty, just right here so she could stare out at it.

"Holy shitballs. Now I see why you live in the same apartment. This is stunning."

The twang when Skyla said "shitballs" struck her as hilarious, and she had to laugh.

"It's kind of amazing, huh? And not what you'd expect."

"No, I was thinking alleyway." Skyla glanced down. "I mean it is, but since only this main drag has tall buildings, you get crazy good stuff."

"Yeah. It's a good place to be." And she was going to stay, she thought, because she was a mid-sized turd in a tiny toilet, and she was doing okay.

The kettle clicked off, so Kirsten went to make tea, and when she turned around, she damn near spilled it, because Skyla was right there. Watching her.

"Everything okay?" Her nipples went hard as nails.

"Uh-huh. I just wanted to say thanks. This is shaping up to be the best day I've had in a long while."

"Oh." That was either sad or cool. "I'm glad. Everyone on earth deserves downtime. Burnout is a real thing." Kirsten knew a little about that—her folks were wealthy, high-dollar, fancy real estate types in the Bible belt, and they were very proud of their two perfect blond sons with perfect blonde wives with perfect blond children.

She wasn't built for that shit, though.

In fact, what she was built for kinda horrified her people.

It was okay, because she'd come here. She had a brother and sister-in-law who adored her, a nephew who called her Aunt Kirsten, and a life that worked for her.

"It is, and I thought I would be all sad and bored by myself, but—Okay, can I just say it? I really want to write some songs with you."

"No shit?" She blinked, utterly shocked. "Really? You could. I mean, after the painting. We could pick up tacos and…"

God, was she being a twat?

"I love tacos." Skyla grinned hugely. "Could we grab my guitar, too? It's not far, and I'm always self-conscious without it."

"We can. We can stop by either before or after." They had tea for now, right? Tea. Cats. The radio.