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I can almost hear Sam’s pride through the line. “Okay, the good news is, I’m this close to being finished. Like, I think I’ll be able to do a walk-through with you on Friday.”

A little thrill hits me. Or is it nerves? I try to meet Reese’s eye, but one of her staff has stopped to talk to her, seeing I’m on the phone.

I’m still holding her hand, my thumb doing unconscious circles across the back of her hand.

“That’s perfect,” I say. “Hey, is there any chance I can come by and take a peek today?”

“Sure, but I won’t be there; I’ve got class at eleven.”

That was the other thing with Sam, he was doing all this around doing some kind of schooling or apprenticeship. We hadn’t talked about details.

I tell him that’s fine, I just want to see it so far. I don’t know how I’m going to get Reese out of here, but I know I have to show her now, while we’re flying high like this.

Even though she might flip out when she sees this thing.

“Seamus was right about you,” I say to Sam. “I’ll make sure I tell him what a great job you did when I see him.”

“Thanks, man. There’s just one more thing though. I’m doing the hookup with the electrician tomorrow, but they have some questions about the sound I don’t know how to answer. Do you think you can ask Stu about specs?”

Stu’s been kindly answering all my questions about building the studio—he built some himself before he was a big shot producer.

Reese’s staff person has left, and Reese pulls her hand from mine, miming pointing at a watch. I spot that little tattoo peeking out under the inside of her wrist as she does it. The one she’s always touching like she’s self-conscious about it. She sees my eyes on it and tugs her sleeve down.

“I’ve gotta go!” she whispers.

“Listen, Sam, I’ll send you Stu’s number and you can ask him yourself. That okay?”

“Can I call him now?” Sam asks. “Where is he?”

“He’s in LA, but it doesn’t matter. He always picks up.”

We hang up, and Reese lifts a brow. “Who’s Stu, your agent? You get a taste of fame being on TV?”

“Just an old friend,” I say. It’s peripherally the truth. I did meet him once, when he came to one of the monthly poker games I play with Seamus, Ben, and a few other friends. He played with Ben’s band after college, and now happens to be a music producer.

But I don’t tell her that. Instead, I say, “I need to show you something.”

“Eli, no. I really have to go.”

“Sophie can look after things for a bit, right?”

Reese raises an eyebrow. “Yes, but—”

“Tell her I said you have to join me for an important meeting.”

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Is it bad how much I love the curiosity warring with stubbornness in her expression?

CHAPTER13

Reese

TRACK:Melody Gardot, “Morning Sun”

“This is nuts.” I lean back against the passenger seat in Eli’s truck, nerves clattering in my stomach. But it’s not just nerves. It’s curiosity. Excitement. Like tiny, frantic butterflies hopped up on too much caffeine.