Page 9 of Love Songs (Harmony Lake #3)

I WAS NERVOUS again.

For the second time in as many days.

Butterflies fluttered about in my stomach as I stood in the lobby of the Lakeside Inn, waiting for Lieutenant Holliston to pick me up for our charity auction date.

I felt like a teen waiting for their prom date to arrive.

Not that I’d had a date for prom. Or even gone to prom.

But me and my garage band had played at an after-prom party.

I hadn’t meant to bid on the lieutenant, only to watch the show, but when the bidding stalled at two-fifty, he’d looked so crestfallen for the briefest of seconds before he’d started hamming it up.

I’m not sure anyone else noticed his fleeting mood change, but I’d been watching him too closely, unable to take my eyes off him, and a sudden urge to see him happy had me raising my hand.

I didn’t normally go for suit types, but Holliston in a tux had captivated me.

He’d seemed so much larger than life, so confident of himself and the world around him, and genuinely enjoying interacting with the audience.

At times, both seductive and boyish in his expressions and mannerisms, and both vibes were working for me.

I also felt guilty for the stage fire and freaking out about my phone.

What upset me most wasn’t the trashed phone, but losing the video I’d been recording for Jaylin.

I wanted to make up for it. Not to mention, the funds were going to a good cause, so it was a win-win.

Sure, I could have bid on anyone, but who was I kidding?

I wanted to spend some time with the sexy as sin firefighter and get to know him better.

What I hadn’t expected was for Kirk to bid against me. I still wasn’t sure if it had been competitiveness or possessiveness that had come over me, but no way in hell was I going to let Kirk win the date with Holliston. That was my date.

I think I was as stunned as the whole of Lucy’s Pub, if not more, when the auctioneer enthusiastically shouted SOLD and my wallet was twenty-five hundred dollars lighter.

I had to wait a day for the pre-arranged date—a tour of the local maple syrup farm and lunch at a lakeside restaurant—so I’d stayed back when the band left for New York the following morning, and I rented a room at the Lakeside Inn for the week.

Jaylin still had school, and I didn’t have any immediate band commitments, so I thought I’d explore the small town of Caldwell Crossing and maybe get a look at the lakeside property for sale, that I’d seen in the real estate office window.

And who knew? Maybe I’d run into the handsome lieutenant again while exploring.

The front doors swung open a few minutes later and Holliston strolled inside—shoulders rolled back, and head held high—brimming with understated swagger.

My mouth watered.

He was wearing a pair of faded jeans over his muscular thighs, white sneakers, and an open, tan-colored button-down shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows over a white T-shirt that stretched across his very nicely defined chest.

“Blade,” he said as he stopped in front of me, that one word as smooth as honey.

I couldn’t tell if he was still angry with me, but he was here, so I’d take that as a win.

“Lieutenant,” I greeted, shoving my hands into my pockets as a bout of nerves took hold.

Bidding on him had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now? Not so much. If we were going to do this date thing, I figured I should get the elephant out of the room first.

“I’m really sorry about the fire,” I began, watching him watch me with a piercing stare I swear reached right into my soul. “We didn’t think plugging my cell phone in there would be an issue.”

“Why did you set it up in the first place?” His voice held no accusation or disapproval, only curiosity. “Half the crowd had their cell phones out recording. You could have had someone from your crew out there instead.”

“Someone I couldn’t refuse asked me to record the show,” I said, leaving it at that.

He grunted but didn’t prod for more information.

“Well,” he said, and tipped his head toward the parking lot. “We should get going.”

An awkward, giddy feeling bubbled in my belly as we walked toward a big, maroon-colored Chevy with an extended cab and tinted windows, neither of us speaking. I hopped in and buckled up.

“So,” I said when he pressed the engine start button. “We’re going to a maple syrup farm?”

Holliston winced. “I apologize in advance.”

That caught me off guard. Was there something wrong with the farm, or was he mad I was the one he was taking there?

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” I hedged.

“Oh, no.” He held up a hand and chuckled under his breath. “It’s just that one of my best friends’ family owns it. Him and my two other best friends, troublemakers all of them—” he said with affection “—will probably be there to spy on us.”

“As long as they won’t be taking photos to sell to the tabloids,” I said lightly, but I wasn’t exactly joking.

“No, no. Nothing like that,” he assured me quickly, his eyebrows lifting as he shifted the truck into gear. “We just like to give each other a hard time. And call me Conor. I’m only Lieutenant at work.”

“Will do. Conor.”

I liked how his name sounded on my tongue.

He gave me a funny look with those piercing eyes of his that I couldn’t decipher, then checked both directions before pulling out onto a tree-lined country road.

“I’m curious,” Conor said after a few minutes with only the steady hum of the truck’s tires on pavement and the whoosh of the wind through my open window filling the cab. “Who couldn’t you refuse?”

I turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“You said you were recording at the request of someone you couldn’t refuse.”

Oh . Right .

Not wanting to disrupt Jaylin’s life any more than it had been after losing her mom and finding out I was her dad by bringing the invasions of privacy that celebrity garnered, I’d tried to keep our relationship contained to my inner circle.

But when your newly discovered daughter boasts to all her friends at school that her dad is the Dallas Blade, the tabloids eventually pick up on it.

I still didn’t tell many people outside my close circle unless I needed to, but I figured Conor already knew, anyway. Half the world did.

“Because my daughter asked me to,” I finally said.

Conor whipped his head around to me. His eyebrows rose and his jaw dropped.

“You have a daughter?” I couldn’t deny the genuine ring of shock in his voice. “And you’re bidding on strange men at auctions?”

I laughed. How did he not know?

“Firsly,” I said, holding up a finger to count off. “You’re not strange.”

His mouth quirked at the corners, as though he was holding back arguing or cracking a joke. But he seemed more relaxed than when he’d first arrived, and relief washed through me at that. I was worried for a minute there that this date would be full of awkward silence and stilted conversation.

“Secondly,” I continued, straightening another finger. “I don’t make a habit of attending bachelor auctions. And third, news of my surprise daughter was all over the entertainment news last year. I’m pretty sure everyone knows about her by now.”

“I didn’t.” Conor shook his head. “I don’t pay much attention to pop culture and what’s going on in the celebrity world. I listen to the music and maybe catch a video occasionally if someone at the station is watching, but other than that, I couldn’t tell you the first thing about you personally.”

“You are so refreshing,” my mouth said before my brain could think better of it.

Conor looked at me for a long few seconds, assessing me with that sharp stare, but he didn’t say anything. I fought the urge to shift in my seat.

“Eyes on the road,” I teased, and he complied, chuckling under his breath. “Anyway. I only found out about her last year. She’s fourteen now.”

“Wow. What a trip,” Conor said. “Just in time for the terrible teens.”

I sighed, not needing the reminder. So far, she was a good kid and far more mature than her fourteen years, but I couldn’t deny the niggle of worry in the back of my mind.

Even though I’d not known about her for thirteen years, now that she was in my life, I’d discovered a protective streak I’d never realized I possessed.

Conor whistled under his breath and shot me a glance, his eyes bright and expression amused. “Dallas Blade, the world-famous rock star, is a single dad.”

I snorted, but it was still a shock to me sometimes too. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“Yeah.” He huffed a laugh, but his tone was rueful when he said, “I don’t see that happening.”

Did he mean he didn’t like kids or didn’t want kids? Part of me hoped that wasn’t the case. Even though we’d only just met, I had a feeling he’d make a great dad. But the other part of me wondered why the hell I should care whether he wanted kids or not at all.

Conor didn’t say any more, so I turned my attention out the window to the passing countryside.

We were the only vehicle on the rolling two-lane road that ribboned between lush green pastures and dense forest. We crossed a narrow, covered bridge over a burbling creek and shortly after, Conor slowed when a cluster of connected and free-standing buildings with weathered-wood sidings and red metal roofs came into view.

He turned into a gravel parking lot marked with a large sign that read Stonebridge Maple Farm .

He parked beside a building with brightly colored flowers in baskets on each side of the entrance and lining the walkways.

Conor exited the truck and scanned the area with an intense expression on his face.

Looking for his friends, I guessed. A tall, slender woman with her dark hair pulled back into a twist and somehow making jeans and a chambray shirt look elegant, stepped out of one of the buildings and smiled when she saw us.

“Conor,” she said, her eyes warm and kind. “Nice to see you.”

“Hey, Mrs. C.,” Conor said, pulling her into a quick hug.