Page 17 of Backup Cowboy

Right off the town square is a row of Victorian-style shops and buildings, with a For Sale sign posted on the brick of what use to be a bank building. It’s a stately structure showing some signs of age, but still impressive with elaborate cornices and carved limestone accents. The adjacent section houses a row of shops with second-floor doctors and dentists’ offices.

A few minutes later, I walk into Kaleidoscope, the restaurant where we’re meeting, and follow the hostess to a private party room where Rebecca and Vanessa are talking and laughing with Capri and two women I haven’t met.

Rebecca talks over her friends to greet me. “Alex! Come join us.” They have a pitcher of what looks like mimosas on the table next to a carafe of water.

“Hi, everyone.” I wave around the table as a beautiful blonde woman with a loose messy braid stands up to introduce herself. Her hair is styled in a smart updo that looks effortless but probably took forever to do. I know because this is a language I speak.

“I’m Zane’s sister, Kennedy. Welcome to Kaleidoscope.”

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

As I join them, Vanessa introduces me to her sister, and I can see that this group of women is close. I’m a little envious. I don’t have a tight knit group of friends like this. My siblings are who I’m closest with.

Kennedy explains that we’re sampling the dishes that will be served to the artists throughout the festival. The mimosas are to celebrate kick-ass women doing kick-ass work.

“Cheers, chicas!”

We all clink glasses, and I take a sip, promising myself to stop at half.

Rebecca doesn’t set down her glass like the rest of us, though. “I have a confession to make, ladies. We are not touring the festival grounds. I have booked an afternoon of pampering for all of us at Enchanted Springs on me!”

From the buzz in the room, I learn that Enchanted Springs Wellness is a full-service spa within walking distance that offers everything from mani-pedis to full-body mud-masks. They even provide luxury head massages, which Rebecca signed us all up for.

Being with this group of amazing women feels so natural. Nobody here checks their phones obsessively or worry about missing emails. They give themselves room to breathe, to support, and just be themselves.

Definitely another positive in the “move to Indigo Hills” column.

We walk to the spa, which is one block over from the town square. As we approach the building I saw earlier, I stop to peek in the windows. The three-story building sits on the corner, and the first thing I notice is the exposed brick walls, which lead all the way to the bank vault, its door open. I’m guessing it was preserved by all the tenants since its inception.

I study the vault, seeing its potential to be remodeled into the recording studio. Administrative offices could be housed on the second floor with the mini-hotel on the third. A fresh shot of adrenaline shoots through me at my excitement at the thought of Nash and me opening the record label here.

If I’m honest with myself, the corporate approach to the business doesn’t inspire me like it used to. The bottom line seems more important in my position than making music. Also, working with artists who don’t respect the industry is hard. Conversely, listening to talented artists complaining to me aboutfeeling like products instead of people adds to my frustration. The endless meetings and spreadsheets don’t help.

Rebecca circles back to where I’m standing. “It’s a big decision, Alex. And Nash will understand if it’s a no. He respects what you do and is smart enough to trust your judgment.”

I squeeze her hand. “Thank you.”

I know I could make this work—either this or the river property. All the possibilities float around in my head, all of them tempting. I snap a photo of the building and the sign, making a mental note to discuss the space with Nash if I decide to leave Magnum Records.

The question is, do I want to? And why is it that an image of Caspian pops into my head, his steel-blue eyes and dark hair so vivid it’s like he’s here? I shake it off. He is not a factor. But a little voice inside me insists that I want him to be.

Ugh.

A couple of hours later, I’m sitting in the waiting room with a glass of cucumber water, the soft sounds of music mixing with the babbling waterfall in the center of the room. I’ve already had a facial and massage, so now it’s time for my mud bath. Rebecca staggered appointments, so I join Capri in sinking down into the earthy mix.

The warm clay envelops my limbs, much like a weighted blanket, cocooning me in its warmth.

“Omigawd,” I groan. “This is divine.”

“I could live in this tub.” I can hear the smile in Capri’s voice even though my eyes are closed.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

We both laugh.

“I’m so glad we got to hang out the other night. Caspian’s a catch.”

A zing of heat goes straight south. I say nothing.