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What have I got to do with this?

Sophie

“Sophie!”

I jerked my gaze from the guitar on the table in front of me as the voice called through the speaker of my phone. “Yes, Dad?”

A sigh. “Were you even listening?”

“Of course.” Kinda. Sorta. “You want to know what Cash is doing.”

Not that I knew why my brother wasn’t answering the calls from Dad.

Dad was just impatient and didn’t want to wait for an answer, so complaining to me was a fallback.

I shifted my weight to the hip leaning against the workbench at the side of my shop, the one with the bigger machines.

On the table in the middle of the room was the guitar I was currently repairing, and I was itching to get back to it.

Unfortunately, the next step involved using a router, so I couldn’t do anything till Dad was done talking.

“Why can’t he answer his damn phone?”

Because he was in the studio, probably. I lost track of who he was working with, since he traveled all over as he became more in demand as a music producer. Dad was never reachable when he was in the studio, so he should understand if anyone did.

“He’s working.” Chances were.

“I wouldn’t be calling him if it wasn’t important.”

What Dad thought was important and what Cash did weren’t always the same, but I kept quiet. Dad would just ignore me anyway.

“Would Ollie know?”

That snapped my attention back to the call. Sure, Ollie and Cash were friends, but Ollie was my ex-husband and we definitely didn’t keep tabs on each other.

“I have no idea.” My voice was curt, but Dad didn’t notice, of course.

Ollie, Cash and I grew up next-door neighbors in a wealthy Austin suburb.

Our dad was the lead singer of an incredibly successful country group, and Ollie’s dad had been a professional baseball player.

Also very successful. The properties where we grew up were as large as this place my brother had bought a few years ago so “next door” was quite a hike, but we’d managed to hang out together.

Ollie and Cash had been best friends from the time they were ten.

Since I was a couple of years younger, I was only occasionally allowed to hang around with them.

I’d had a crush on Ollie all through my teens.

After high school, he’d left to be a hockey superstar and my brother had gone off to hit the charts with his own band, and I was left behind. I’d set my crush aside.

Then Ollie was injured, ending his hockey playing career. He’d come back to his family home to recover, and I wasn’t just the kid sister next door. There was no longer any competition for Oliver’s attention.

We’d married for all the wrong reasons. I thought he was the hero of my adolescence.

He wanted to believe he was still important.

In typical Ollie fashion, he’d mapped out exactly how our marriage would go.

But when having kids was no longer an option, he suggested we part ways.

He’d regained his confidence and found a new place coaching in hockey, and I’d discovered I was more passionate about the instruments I worked with than the real Oliver, so there was nothing to keep us together.

I moved the phone around so I could check where Goober had gone. He was on top of a storage cupboard, eyeing the acoustic guitar on the table. It wasn’t able to handle a Goober visit. I glared at the cat, who swished his tail and settled into a waiting pose. Stupid animal.

“If he calls you first, pass on the message.”

Shit. I’d lost track of the conversation. “Sure.” If I told Dad I’d spaced out, he’d lecture me on respect—if he heard me. Our talks went in one direction only.

Then he hung up, without a good-bye. I wondered what bee was in his bonnet, but it wasn’t anything to do with me. I put the phone down, ready to deal with Goober who was lashing his tail, prepared to pounce. Only for the phone to start ringing again.

Damn it. I was on a deadline, so why did everyone call me today? The name on my phone display was Cash, so with one last glare at the cat, I picked it up.

“Hey, Cash. Dad’s looking to talk to you.”

I heard the sounds of people talking in the background. Cash must have decided this needed to be dealt with even though he was working.

“I know. I got his message and tried to call him back but the line’s busy.”

“He called me to try to get a hold of you. But since I didn’t know where you were, he might be talking to Ollie now.”

“For fuck’s sake. Can he not wait till I’m free to call him back?”

I snorted. “He’s never done that while I’ve been alive, but hey, we can hope for a miracle.”

“Yeah, yeah.” At least Cash was sounding a little less stressed. “I’ve gotta get back into the booth—will you tell him it’s fine, and he should work out the details with you?”

“What have I got to do with this?” I didn’t need anything more to do, especially right now.

“He wants to let someone stay upstairs. Doing a favor for one of his buddies.”

“Upstairs? You mean here ?”

“Yeah, the carriage house.”

I’d like to mock him for the carriage house thing, but I used the main floor as a workshop, and I was staying in the mother-in-law suite in the main house of his sprawling monstrosity of a home.

It had been the easiest place to move to when Ollie and I split.

Still, it boggled my mind that my brother had so much money he had a place with a carriage house. Not that he was here often.

Damn it. I liked working here. There was more space than I could afford in any of the rentals I’d looked at in the city.

I had my expensive tools here, where they wouldn’t be stolen, since the whole property was fenced and we had a security gate.

But if someone Dad was trying to impress needed somewhere to stay, that might mean this place was no longer viable.

“So who’s going to be here and when and?—”

The sound of voices got louder in the background. “Sorry, I gotta go. The client is having a tantrum.”

He hung up. I wasn’t sure who this client was, but Cash produced for some major names in music, so tantrums came with the diva territory.

Leaving me with the problem. I had work to do here, and some of the machines made a lot of noise.

Letting a stranger move in upstairs meant I might not have the freedom to work.

If this new tenant was someone with a regular nine-to-five job, hopefully we could work out a schedule for me to use the shop while they were gone.

But if not, I would need to set up my own place sooner than expected.

I had money saved up, but I wasn’t ready yet.

Well, if someone was coming to stay upstairs, I’d better try to finish up as much work as I could before they got here.

Cash hadn’t said if this person or persons were staying for free or paying, but Cash’s business manager could work that out with Dad.

I’d just need to make sure the cleaning service got the place ready.

Damn it, why couldn’t Cash or Dad have given me a timeline?

Was this someone staying for a night, or a couple of months?

Either was possible when my Dad was doing favors.

I crossed to the fridge and poured out some iced tea. I texted Cash to give me the details on this new tenant, but I had to wait till he was free to answer. Should I call Dad back?

I’d probably only get his voicemail. And since neither of them were taking any steps to help with the impact this would have on my business, they could handle it themselves.

I set down the glass, dried my hands, and turned back to the guitar on my table.

Only to find Goober, tail twitching, beside the guitar, paw raised to pat the neck.

“Don’t you dare!” I threatened as I leapt to protect my work.