Page 7 of Love Songs (Harmony Lake #3)

“YOU AND THE hot fireman are totally going viral,” Jaylin exclaimed when I called her on Kirk’s phone after the show and short signing session, catching her before dinner.

“Okay, first of all,” I said, using my newly discovered dad voice, because I needed to shut that down ASAP. “Fourteen-year-old girls can’t be calling men in their thirties hot. Got it?”

Because just no . Especially when that fourteen-year-old was mine.

“Seriously, Dad?” She rolled her eyes at me dramatically. The video stuttered as she moved around her bedroom at Carolyn’s. The girl was ever in motion. “I’m obviously too young for boyfriends. Plus, eww . He’s way too old for me.”

Thank goodness for small miracles. Who knew my kid was so smart?

“But . . .” She leaned closer to the screen, and sweet as could be, said, “He’d be perfect for you.”

“Hold on now.” I laughed to deflect from the funny little thrill that raced through my veins at the idea. “I’m not looking, and I am definitely not having this conversation with you.”

“Fine.” She sighed the way only a teen could, as though she was having to carry all the world’s burdens on her slender shoulders. “We won’t talk about your nonexistent love life.”

I adored how open and accepting she was.

Jaylin was more grown-up than half the people I knew in the music industry, but no way was I taking romantic advice from my daughter.

Just the idea of her reaching the age where she even knew about all that was already terrifying.

I never realized until this last year how scary it was to be the parent of a teenager. And a single parent at that.

“Anyway,” I said, taking a sip of my ginger tea.

My throat was feeling better, but not a hundred percent yet.

I wasn’t sure if it was the bit of smoke I’d inhaled or the singing.

I prayed it wasn’t the latter. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to see the whole show, but Lieutenant Holliston killed my phone with the fire extinguisher. ”

She snort-laughed, which made me snort, too.

“I saw that. But don’t worry.” She turned the phone to show me her open laptop.

Frozen on the screen was the moment Holliston did just that.

I was in the frame behind him with a look of outrage and shock on my face.

“People were live streaming from their phones, so I got to see the whole thing from multiple angles.”

“Yeah?” The back of my throat tickled. “What did you think?”

“You were awesome. I told you you’d do great,” she said with genuine sincerity.

But the fire and shouting match with Holliston was what everyone would remember. I was probably going to be a meme from now on. Great .

“I wish I was there,” she said, her tone wistful.

“Me too,” I said, and coughed.

I took another few gulps of my drink to soothe the tickle, and her eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Are you okay?” She stopped moving and her stillness was eerie.

Not really . “Yes,” I assured with a touch of rasp. “I breathed in a little smoke.”

“Okay, no more talking then.”

“Yes, boss,” I teased.

“What did I just say?” she barked, and I made a show of zipping my lips closed, earning a cheeky smile. “Love you.”

“Love you back.”

I disconnected and reveled in the warm feeling rolling through my chest.

For more than a decade, it had always been me and Kirk and then us and the band hanging out after shows, going to parties or clubs to burn off the excess adrenaline from performing.

There’d never been a reason not to. Even when I hit my late twenties and grew bored with the endless parties, only going because I didn’t want to sit in an empty hotel room or on the bus by myself.

Then Jaylin had come along.

I’d never had someone I looked forward to seeing and talking with after a concert, but now that I had her, I couldn’t wait to get home and tell her everything that had happened. Well, almost everything. She was still a child, after all, and I was still in a touring rock band.

For now.

I glanced around the bus. It was like a luxury suite at a swanky hotel.

The only difference being it was on wheels rather than concrete foundations.

I was sitting in the front lounge in a plush pleather chair, with a view through the fully appointed kitchen and down the hallway—where I could hear the water running in the full-sized bathroom because Kirk was in the shower.

The hall housed eight sleeping bunks, complete with their own lights, climate controls, and small-screen TVs.

Two of the privacy curtains were pulled, with our roadies, Craig and Todd, already tucked inside.

Craig was snoring loud enough to shake the whole bus, and the TV was on in Todd’s bunk, the volume low.

Beyond the sleeping bunks was the back lounge-slash-primary bedroom where I slept.

Arthur and Luna were sitting at the kitchen table playing cards. Brian was sitting on the couch across from me reading, and our driver, Terrance, was sitting on the other end of the couch with his feet up on the ottoman, watching the big-screen TV.

The bus suddenly felt too small with everybody on it. I needed some fresh air, so I finished my tea and stood as Kirk exited the bathroom.

“I’m going to go take a walk around town, if anyone wants to join me.”

Please say no . I only asked to be polite, and luckily, everyone shook their heads. All but Terrance not even bothering to look up.

“I’ll join you,” Kirk said. “Give me a second.”

Kirk I could handle. We’d known each other since high school, but we became brothers when I’d brought a boyfriend home for dinner when I was sixteen, and my parents suddenly realized that bisexual meant being attracted to women and men.

They kicked me out and Kirk’s family took me in.

Looking back, that was the best thing that could have happened to me.

Kirk’s parents showed me what unconditional parental love truly looked like.

We both tucked our hair up under baseball hats and put sunglasses on, even though daylight was giving way to twilight, and strolled across the park, past City Hall, and onto the quiet sidewalks of Main Street.

It was only seven in the evening, but the town’s businesses and shops had already rolled up their carpets—either a very sleepy town, or they’d closed early because of Founders Day.

All the booths and displays had been broken down and packed away, and the street cleared.

Banners still hung above storefront windows and flags waved from Victorian-style light posts, the only remaining signs that the fair had happened at all.

“This town is too small,” Kirk said, as we wandered down the deserted street, window shopping.

“I think it’s quaint,” I mused. There was an air to the town that felt comfortable and inviting. The kind of place where everyone knew each other and always had a smile and wave and kind word for everyone they passed. The kind of place to raise a kid.

“Sure,” Kirk snorted. “If you’re a farmer.”

None of the buildings were over three stories, and most were brick facades in varying shades of red.

Only the window treatments differed in style and color—some were painted white, some black, some yellow.

Some windows had little baskets hanging from their ledges, overflowing with colorful flowers.

Many, I guessed, were apartments. The ground levels were mostly retail businesses with glass fronts and creative displays in their windows.

We walked past a stationery store and a cafe bearing a logo I recognized from the drink Holliston had ordered for me after the fire.

He hadn’t needed to do that, which spoke volumes about the kind of person he was, especially after I’d been the reason the fire happened.

I hadn’t put the power bar there to connect my phone to, but I wouldn’t throw Craig under the bus for a request I’d made. The fire was my fault, full stop.

“Damn, those look good,” Kirk said with longing in his voice when we stopped to look in the window of a bespoke chocolate shop. Any second now, he’d start drooling. He pointed at a display of bite-sized chocolates in foil cups. “I gotta come back here tomorrow before we leave and get some of that.”

Kirk had a serious sweet tooth. I wasn’t much for sugary things, but I had to agree.

Those chocolates looked damn good. We walked past a bank and a clothing store, a music store that also offered lessons and a knickknack shop with a display of wooden bowls and cute little animals carved out of wood by a local artisan.

One carving was of a rearing horse. I made a mental note to come back and get for Jaylin. She’d love it.

We came to a real estate office next, and I stopped to look at the listings taped in the front window.

“What are we looking at real estate for?” Kirk asked with a frown.

“I’m just curious.” I’d been thinking more and more about buying a permanent home. “I need to find somewhere nice for me and Jaylin. Shuffling her around and leaving her with friends every time we go on the road is no life for a kid.”

“True. Kids need stability,” Kirk said softly and rocked on his heels. “But why not closer to New York?”

I shrugged. Honestly, I thought he worried I’d settle down and leave the band. I didn’t want to tell him he wasn’t all that far off the mark. I wasn’t ready to call the band quits, but I was ready for the settling part. Jaylin needed that.

A couple of houses for sale seemed halfway decent, but my eye caught on a listing in the bottom corner of the flyer collage that shouted LAKESIDE PROPERTY in large red letters.

Below that a caption read: Secluded four-bedroom historical home on a two-acre wooded lakeside lot .

The photo showed a nice-sized lake surrounded by trees and a small dock in disrepair that I assumed belonged to the property, but not showing a photo of the house made me nervous.

If they were boasting about all the amenities of the property and only showing exteriors, that usually meant the house was a teardown. Not something I was interested in.

We strolled on, coming to the Caldwell Crossing Library with grand steps leading up to a column-framed entrance.

Above it was a sculpture of a roaring lion.

The stone and wood building looked like it had been added to several times over the years, none of it quite matching but somehow still working together.

“What’s going on up there?” Kirk asked.

I followed the tip of his chin to where Periwinkle Street crossed Main Street, and on the corner sat a squat brick building with solid black doors, over which a glowing, pink neon sign read Lucy’s Pub .

Parked cars and trucks lined the block. The doors swung open as a couple entered, and spotlights spilled out to dapple the sidewalk.

Laughter, chatter, and someone speaking over a microphone echoed down the street toward us.

“Let’s go see,” I said, and excitement fluttered in my stomach. Maybe this town wasn’t all that sleepy after all.

When we reached the pub, I spotted a large sandwich board outside the entrance announcing a bachelor auction happening tonight.

Twelve of Caldwell Crossing’s most eligible bachelors were available for onetime dates with the winning bidders, and all proceeds going to the Harmony Lake Animal Rescue League charity fund.

Photos of the bachelors filled the bottom half of the signage—and the hot firefighter was one of them.

“Well, I’ll be,” Kirk said, smirking. “Look who’s up for auction.”

I rolled my eyes and stated the obvious. “It’s a charity fundraiser.”

“Yep.” Kirk’s eyes glinted in the light, and I knew what was coming. “Let’s go make a donation.”

I didn’t want to see the lieutenant again, not after the months-long hassle trying to convince him to sign off on our limited pyro and then setting the stage on fire with it.

But the part of me that woke up and took notice of him—the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he cared without hesitation—when we’d met in person, couldn’t wait to get inside.

The pub was standing room only, and the bartender was doing brisk work mixing drinks with practiced flare.

Streamers and banners hung from the rafters and swayed lazily above our heads.

Bright spotlights focused on the small stage on one side of the pub, where an attractive brown-haired man was wearing a black tuxedo and making James Bond poses.

The auctioneer, a dark-haired woman standing at the foot of the stage with a microphone, encouraged and relayed the bids.

“Two-fifty going twice,” the auctioneer called enthusiastically. “Last chance to get a rare date with Deputy Chris before Rebecca comes to her senses.”

Laughter rolled through the crowd at what had to be an inside joke only locals would get, and a strange sense of being left out hit me. I pushed it down as we paid our entry fee to a pair of shrewd-eyed women at a card table.

A woman near the stage raised her hand. “Two-seventy-five!”

When no one else bid after three calls, the auctioneer shouted, “Sold to Lindsey James for two hundred and seventy-five dollars!”

I scanned the cheering audience while the next bachelor prepared to take the stage, and my gaze snagged on a group of men in matching black tuxedos gathered in the back corner.

One stood out above the rest. Figuratively and literally.

He was the tallest man by a head, with broad shoulders and that tousled blond hair I’d recognize anywhere.

He took the stage, and Lord have mercy . . . Lieutenant Holliston was hot AF in a tux.