Page 7 of Stormswept Colorado (Hart County #3)

SIX

Ayla

Bryan and I made it to the baby store only minutes before it was supposed to close. But as soon as we stepped inside, the shop owner started gushing about my music and said we could stay for as long as we wanted.

“I’m just so excited to have Ayla Maxwell shopping at my store. I’m Natalie, by the way.”

Fame had its drawbacks, but it did have some nice benefits too. I would be the first to admit it.

“Great to meet you, Natalie. This place is adorable. I had to stop by.”

She glowed with pride. “Are you looking for anything in particular?” Her eyes darted toward my stomach, and I could just imagine the headlines now.

I touched Bryan’s arm. “Something for his one-year-old son. And maybe for his wife.” I emphasized that last word. “Bryan’s my driver.”

“No problem,” Natalie said brightly. She showed us some options.

I lifted up a pale blue outfit that could’ve fit on a doll. “Look how tiny these are. So cute.”

“But little man takes after his daddy. He’s already wearing 2T and growing fast.” Bryan held up a cute T-shirt with the Colorado flag. Beneath, it said Future Mountain Man . “What about this?”

“I love it. That’s a must-have.”

My phone buzzed, and I took a break from shopping to check my messages. Cheryl had written. Dramatic music played in my head. Dun dun dun .

My manager never wrote unless she had something important to say.

Cheryl

Video interview confirmed for tomorrow at two your time. Do NOT make me reschedule again. They were already threatening to cancel the cover feature. You definitely have access to a piano, correct?

Yes, there’s a piano here I can use. But would it be the end of the world if they cancel? Do I really need another magazine cover?

Said NO ONE EVER who wants her next album to sell.

I rolled my eyes. But okay, fair point.

Bryan stepped over to me. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just Cheryl. Reminding me about an interview tomorrow.”

The magazine wanted to record segments of this interview for social media, and they wanted me to perform a few songs. It was supposed to be authentic, stripped down, just me and a piano. And it had to be this Friday. They’d loved the idea of me visiting the small town where my sister once lived.

Scheduling this kind of stuff was beyond frustrating. A timeline was etched in stone, impossible to change, until suddenly an executive in some fancy office decided it wasn’t.

But I wasn’t going to complain. Because this video interview would be a good excuse for why I couldn’t have dinner with Emma’s parents on Friday night in Hartley.

I’d met Emma’s uncle Aiden and aunt Jessi before, and they were wonderful people.

But her whole extended family? That sounded overwhelming.

Dinner with the parents was just…not my thing.

Bryan would drive me to Hartley once the interview was over, and I’d be there for the whole wedding day.

Cheryl

Speaking of your next album. Paul Ruxton has been calling again, asking how songwriting is going. I told him you’ve got months and he should mind his own fucking business, but if you have anything to tide the execs over, it could help.

Ugh . Next topic, please?

Songwriting wasn’t a straightforward process for me.

Inspiration came in fits and starts. Sometimes a whole song appeared at once in my mind, the chords already itching to be set free from my fingertips.

Other times, I got only glimpses. A feeling.

Vibes that slowly took form into something more substantial.

Yet those songs tended to be my favorites. Worth the wait.

But the executives at my record label, like Paul, wanted to see continuous results. I was their show monkey, and I was supposed to dance. Pose for pictures. Produce new albums on command. It was a constant battle.

At least I had Cheryl in my corner. She tried to stand as a barrier between me and the label execs. Eventually, the songs would come. Even with my past struggles, the music always showed up for me.

Putting my phone away, I went back to shopping. After a few more minutes, I had some outfits for Brody to add to Bryan’s pile. The shop sold locally made body care for moms too, so he picked out a gift set for Mikaela.

When it was time to pay, I slid my credit card into Natalie’s hand before Bryan could hand his over.

“Come on, you don’t have to do that,” Bryan said .

“No. But I want to. Buying gifts for other people’s kids is one of my favorite hobbies. You wouldn’t deny me, would you?”

He snickered. “Nah, you do you. Thanks, boss.”

The owner swiped my credit card. But then Bryan muttered a curse. He nodded at the storefront windows. “Uh, Ayla? We may have a problem.”

When I turned to look, my stomach fell.

There was a crowd of people waiting on the sidewalk right outside. Natalie, the boutique owner, had switched the sign to closed, so nobody had come in. But people had their phones up taking pictures.

I recognized some of them. Those guys who’d shouted and made raunchy gestures from across the street earlier.

“I’m so sorry,” Natalie said. “I don’t think they’re from around here.”

“No, I figured not. But it’s okay. I’m used to it.”

I was nervous though. The crowd blocked the door. A few people even had their faces pressed to the windows to see in.

Bryan strode over to the door, no doubt scowling at them.

A couple of people moved back, but somehow Bryan’s presence just seemed to agitate the others even more.

The men hooted and hollered at us like we were animals in a zoo exhibit.

Their voices were loud enough now that we could hear them through the glass.

“ Ayla ! Come outside! ”

Crap, this wasn’t good.

Usually, people who wanted my autograph were pretty low-key about it. But mob mentality was a very real thing.

“Is there a back exit?” Bryan asked.

Natalie wrung her hands. “No, but I could call for a police escort if you want.”

I shook my head emphatically. Calling Silver Ridge PD was the last thing I needed. A lecture from Chief Landry about how much of a problem my presence caused in town? No, thanks.

“It’ll be fine.” I was reassuring myself just as much as the others. I had Bryan with me, and I’d dealt with countless crowds of fans before. We were just fine.

I finished paying and tucked both my bag and Bryan’s under my arm. He looked worried. “I’ll go out first,” he said. “Clear the way, then I’ll come back for you.”

“I’d rather just get this done. I’ll stop a moment, say hi and take a few selfies. Then we can move on.”

Bryan glowered. “Hell, no. We can’t give those assholes any oxygen. I am not liking the vibes out there.”

Okay, he was right. But after my day out with Maisie, this was disappointing. And it scared me to think what might’ve happened if a crowd like this gathered when she was with me. What if she’d heard those guys cat-calling me earlier?

Even worse, I was supposed to head over to Hearthstone Brewing right after this. What if the crowd followed me there? What if they wouldn’t leave Ashford and Emma’s guests alone?

I should’ve worn the hat and sunglasses. Taken the side streets and alleys.

Don’t put yourself on display . Good girls don’t do that . You’re more trouble than it’s worth .

My father’s voice. Every once in a while, it snuck into my mind like a dagger. A cheap shot from nowhere. But it just made me all the more defiant.

Lifting my chin, I banished my fears. “Lead the way,” I said to Bryan. “Let’s go.”

Natalie unlocked the door. Bryan went out first. “Step back please. Let us through.” He reached backward so he could place his hand at the small of my back in a protective gesture. He angled his body, half shielding me and half ready to shove a path through the crowd.

I stepped outside. The shouts started immediately, setting my teeth on edge. “Ayla, can I get an autograph?”

“Ayla, we’re your biggest fans, can we get a selfie?”

I forced a smile. “Sorry, everyone. I can’t stop right now. Have a nice night.” Keep going. It’ll be fine .

The crowd jostled. Someone shoved into me.

“Ayla, smile!”

“Show us your tits!” another guy taunted.

My stomach lurched. “Learn some manners!” I shouted back, even though I shouldn’t have responded at all. Shouldn’t let my temper out.

“ Move ,” Bryan yelled. “Get the fuck out of the way!” The voices and laughter crescendoed, and a hard grip closed around my wrist. I didn’t see who it was.

Suddenly, everything was happening so fast.

Bryan shoved someone. I cried out as the hand around my wrist pulled hard. A fist lashed out at Bryan’s face, catching him in the nose. He threw a punch.

And then, all hell broke loose.