6. Ecco

6

ECCO

T he heavy wooden door of The Moonflower Inn swings open, its bell chiming cheerfully to announce my arrival. Minx trots in ahead of me on her glittery lead, her white fur catching the warm glow of the fairy lights strung around the cozy lobby.

I barely have time to take in the familiar dark wood paneling and stained glass windows before a joyful squeal pierces the air.

"Ecco!"

Mariah comes barreling towards me, chestnut waves flying behind her.

We collide in a fierce hug, melding together like two halves of a whole. Gods, I've missed this—missed her. The scent of her perfume envelops me as we sway back and forth.

In my periphery, I catch sight of Graeme hovering by the door, his granite features in their typical scowl, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest.

He looks wildly out of place amidst the quaint, colorful charm of the inn, hulking and menacing in head-to-toe black. Discomfort practically radiates off him as he watches our affectionate display.

What's the deal, does this guy not have any friends of his own?

Mariah pulls back, hands still gripping my shoulders as her green eyes look me over. "So? How was the drive, babe? Looks like you had some interesting company?"

She raises a brow, glancing not-so-subtly toward Graeme.

I force a grin, hyper aware of Graeme listening. "Oh, it was fine! Lucky me, I had company to pass the time." Reaching back, I beckon him closer. "Mariah, this is Graeme, my new bodyguard."

The mischievous expression is wiped from her face in an instant. "Bodyguard? Since when do you need a bodyguard?"

Shit. My palms go clammy as I scramble for a low-key explanation, determined to keep my stalker situation from putting a damper on Mariah's big week.

I wave a dismissive hand. "It's nothing major, just something the label and my manager insisted on. You know, with all the extra attention lately..."

I trail off, internally cringing at the half-truth.

Graeme stiffens beside me and I can sense his irritation without even seeing his face. He hates when I downplay the threat I'm under.

I silently will him not to say anything.

Mariah's gaze darts between us, her smile faltering slightly. "Ecco, I feel terrible. With all the wedding guests arriving, we only have the one room available that I'd originally reserved for you. I thought it would be perfect for you, but now with your… friend here..."

Her eyes flick over to Graeme, assessing his hulking form.

I kick myself mentally. Of course the inn is booked solid, I should've thought of that.

"Maybe Graeme could stay at one of the boarding houses in town?" I suggest weakly. "They might have a room open?"

Graeme's growl reverberates through the lobby.

"Absolutely not," he snaps. "Haven't I made myself clear? I need to be by your side at all times, Ms. Waverly. No way am I staying at another property."

Mariah watches our exchange, slender fingers twisting together, the worry lines around her mouth deepening.

Guilt stabs through me. I'm supposed to be here making wedding preparations easier for her, not causing extra drama.

Pasting on my sunniest smile, I reach out to squeeze her hands. "You know what, it's no problem at all! Graeme and I will just go stay with my dad. You know he's always got room for his favorite daughter. Graeme can camp out on the couch there."

Graeme makes a disgruntled noise but I ignore him.

It's not like he ever has anything useful to contribute, anyway. When he does bother to open his mouth, it's usually just to bark orders or say something rude.

No, I'm making the executive decision here.

The worried crease between Mariah's brows smooths slightly but I can tell she's not entirely convinced. Damn Graeme and his stormy scowling! I link my arm with Mariah's, angling us towards the door.

"C'mon, babe, let's walk and talk! I want to hear all about your flower selection, and how the cake tasting went, and whether Uncle Bernie is still planning that gods-awful toast..."

The late afternoon sunlight dapples through the canopy of oak trees arching over my dad's street, washing everything in a nostalgic glow.

Graeme's bulky form looms behind me as I bound up the cobblestone path to the front door, one of my bags bouncing against my hip and Minx's carrier clutched under the other arm. My heart swells with anticipation, the way it always does when I'm about to see my dad after too much time away.

I've barely raised my fist to knock when the cheerful red door swings open, revealing a beaming Joran Waverly.

It's no wonder I turned out the way I did, wanting to perform, seeking an audience. My dad looks like he just stepped out of an old album cover, with his salt-and-pepper hair, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes, and a guitar slung across his back. He must have just been playing.

"There's my girl!" he cries, sweeping me up into one of his legendary bear hugs. My short stature comes from my mom's side of the family, not my dad's. My feet lift right off the ivy-covered steps as I am folded into his embrace. "Welcome home, songbird!"

I melt into his familiar scent—cedarwood and old parchment.

"Hi, Daddy," I mumble into his collar, blinking away the sudden sting of happy tears. "I missed you."

"Missed you more, baby girl." He spins me around before setting me back on my feet, hands braced on my shoulders as he looks me over with that fatherly inspection that never quite stops, no matter how grown I get. "You been eating enough? Getting enough rest between all those big fancy concerts?"

"Yes, Dad," I assure him, fondly exasperated.

Over his shoulder, I catch Graeme hovering stiffly by the gate, looking deeply uncomfortable amidst all this open affection.

Whoops. Almost forgot about my dour tagalong.

I backtrack to the gate and grab Graeme's elbow, tugging him forward, ignoring the way he tenses at my touch. "Dad, this is Graeme, my new?—"

"Bodyguard!" My dad's grin widens as he clasps Graeme's hand between both of his own, pumping it enthusiastically. "Good to meet you, son. Ecco told me you'd be accompanying her. I'm so glad she has you looking out for her. Any friend of my daughter's is a friend of mine!"

Friend ? I barely suppress a snort.

Graeme is many things—a thorn in my side, a professional stick-in-the-mud, an unwanted complication in my already chaotic life—but "friend" isn't the word I'd use.

Nuisance, more like. Or royal pain in my ass.

To my surprise, some of the rigid tension seems to leak out of Graeme's mountainous shoulders as my dad greets him so warmly. His chiseled jaw even unclenches a notch or two.

Huh. I guess even soulless gargoyle warriors aren't entirely immune to the Waverly charm offensive.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Waverly," Graeme says, the words only slightly stilted. "Thank you for having us."

"Pshh, call me Joran, son. No need for formalities here." Dad waves us in the door, closing it behind us once we're in. "I'm so glad you could come by and see your old man on your way into town!"

"Um, about that, Dad..." I heft my overnight bag meaningfully as we step into the eclectic jumble of the living room. Minx starts squirming in her carrier, eager to be free. "We were actually hoping we could stay here for a few days, if that's okay?"

I head down the narrow hallway with my bag, the faded rag rug soft beneath my boots as I head to my old room, Graeme a hulking presence trailing behind me.

Over my shoulder I call, "There was a bit of a room shortage at the Moonflower, and since Graeme needs to stay close..."

I push open the door to my old bedroom, ready to toss my stuff on the bed and change into something that doesn't reek of car funk.

"Wait," my dad calls. "Ecco, there is something?—"

He cuts off when I register what's behind the door.

Where my teenage sanctuary used to be—all creamy whites and pale blues, with lovingly placed accents like glowing star decals and sheer lavender curtains—there are now...

Piles of scribbled sheet music. Half a dozen guitars. A gleaming new mixing board.

I blink rapidly, trying to reconcile this foreign sight with my memories. Behind me, Graeme makes a low sound of confusion. I turn to see my dad wincing sheepishly.

"Ah, Ecco honey, I'm not sure if I mentioned… I may have turned your old room into a recording studio."

I stand speechless, then spin on my heel. Somehow, in the presence of my dad's warmth and tucked back into cozy Elderberry Falls' embrace, I can't find it in me to get upset.

"Very cool, Dad!" I enthuse, finding I actually mean the words. "Maybe I can lay down some tracks while I'm in town!"

Dad turns to Graeme with an apologetic smile. "Son, you're welcome to stay here alone on the couch, but Ecco might be more comfortable back at the inn." He pauses, his expression turning knowing. "Though it sounds like that may not be a compromise you're willing to make."

Graeme shakes his head, jaw set stubbornly. "Absolutely not. Where Ms. Waverly goes, I go. I'd rather just sleep on her floor at the inn."

I sigh, exasperation and, strangely, fondness welling up met. Of course he'd say that.

"Well then," I say brightly, clapping my hands together. "Looks like it's back to the Moonflower for us! I'm sure Mariah can figure something out."

Dad envelops me in another warm hug, his woodsy scent achingly familiar. "You just holler if you need anything, songbird. My door's always open."

I squeeze him tightly for a long moment before pulling back. "I know, Dad. Love you."

Graeme nods stiffly to my father, and then we're trekking back down the hallway, through the cozy living room strewn with crocheted afghans and dog-eared novels, and out into the golden afternoon sunlight.

While we walk down the winding path through Dad's riotous wildflower gardens, I can't help sneaking a glance at Graeme's chiseled profile.

"Thank you," I blurt out before I can second-guess myself. "For being so..." I wave a hand. "You know. Dedicated."

Those glowing blue gargoyle eyes slide to mine, inscrutable as always. But I swear I see a flicker of surprise in their stony depths.

"It's my job," he rumbles after a beat.

Right. His job. How could I forget?

The walk back to the inn doesn't take long, and I fill the air with facts about local landmarks, helping him get the lay of the land. Graeme's as silent as ever.

By the time the Moonflower's ivy-covered walls and cheerful blue door come into view, I'm ready to throttle Graeme if he grunts monosyllabically at me one more time. So much for that brief flash of fondness.

Mariah bustles up to us as soon as we step into the lobby. "Well? How'd it go with your dad?"

I shift my duffle bag, unzipping the cat carrier a little and letting Minx peek her furry head out. "No dice. Dad turned my old room into a music studio."

Graeme clears his throat pointedly.

"Oh, and Tall, Dark, and Grumpy over there," I add breezily, jerking a thumb over my shoulder, "has proclaimed he'll sleep on my floor at the inn to make sure I am fully and completely protected from the worst Elderberry Falls has to throw at me. So… looks like we'll take that room after all."

I punctuate this with a deep, long-suffering sigh.

Mariah's eyes dart between us, her smile growing a little too bright, a little too sheepish. She fidgets with the leather-bound reservations book she has in her hands.

"So, funny story," she hedges.

I narrow my eyes. I know this look. This is the "I did something hare-brained" look.

"About the room… I may have had a surprise planned for you, Ecco."

Well, that sounds terrible.