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Kate entered the Gazette offices and was quickly ushered back to meet with the owner, a poised, smartly dressed woman who rose to shake her hand. “Danielle Fullilove, welcome.”

“Katrina Mayfield, QHM Media. We represent Mr. Rollins of Endeavor Street.”

“Please be seated. Normally for this type of meeting, you would meet with our editor, Slane Nilson, but my cousin Whitney requested I take the lead. No need to be so formal. I know who you are. I hear the Hazard Inn is coming along quite nicely.”

Kate hid her cringe at the name. She really needed to decide on a new one and get that news out in the community, but that was for another time.

She took a subtle breath, determined to keep this meeting on track.

She recognized the disarming technique. “It is. Prior to purchasing the inn I worked full time for QHM, and I’ve been asked to step in and assist on behalf of Mr. Rollins. ”

“Rory.”

Kate nodded.

“Throckmorton.”

Kate gave a tight smile. “Rollins. He did legally change his name.”

“Oh,” Danielle leaned back. “I wasn’t aware. I understand you wish to discuss the piece we ran on him earlier this week. Was there a problem?”

Kate nodded. “Yes. Tell me, how much vetting did you do on the interviewee?”

*

Rory settled into his Zoom call with Kyler.

He was tucked into his room at the inn. He wanted privacy for this meeting—he wasn’t sure how it would go.

What would Kyler’s reaction be when he got down to the reason he called?

“Got a question for you, but I need you to keep it…” He paused. How best to say this?

“Secret,” Kyler filled it in for him.

Rory let out a frustrated sigh, “Exactly.”

“What’s up?” Kyler leaned back, looking at ease.

Rory could see he was in the back room in his apartment with his collection of Gibson guitars.

Kyler spent all his money on guitars…if he could.

Which, since the band was doing a bit better, was at present an option.

But something in Kyler’s face showed he was holding back his emotions, that he expected bad news from Rory.

So Rory launched in and explained about the fluff piece in the Gazette and how Sunny Briscoe, besides falsely implying she was his steady girlfriend, hinted at a familial connection to the band.

Kyler crossed his arms, his expression radiating his scorn. “Dude, she lied about being your girlfriend. What makes you think she’s not lying about being related to one of us? She’s a nutcase.”

“I feel like there must be a kernel of truth in there somewhere. It doesn’t seem like something she’d lie about.”

“And what, you know her so well now? You can read her mind, know her thoughts?” Kyler wiggled his fingers in front of the screen. “She’s pathological.”

This wasn’t the reaction he wanted from Kyler, but it was to be expected. Kyler hadn’t had any patience with the past incidents. Or with Rory for not notifying the police when he first got the weird letters. “I can’t explain it.”

“Well, she has no connection to me, none. I come from a large family, but no way was she at any of our family reunions. She’s not the Montana type, you know.

We’re a close-knit bunch. Most of my family is still in Montana working the ranch.

I’m the wayward rocket shooting for the stars, seeking my fame and fortune out in the world. ”

“Dustin?”

“Is an only child whose parents died when he was in college. He has no connections to anyone, and his wife is also an only child. That’s why they’re so keen on starting a family. And Ven, well, all his family is in India.”

“Marco?” Rory hated to say it.

Kyler was silent a long time. “Can you see that? Stalker-chick radiates New York City privilege. Marco is second generation out of El Salvador. She just has to be making it all up. I don’t see any other option. Sorry that she outed you like that to the world.”

“Well, I’m hoping the news won’t get out of Hazard.”

“Too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our next scheduled podcast, they’re already sending questions about your roots.

Better decide how to spin this quick cause you are not incognito anymore.

That podcaster knows about your wealthy family, even that scandal with your mom hooking up with a concert pianist and touring Europe.

” Kyler frowned. “You never told us about any of that.”

“It’s not interesting. Just old history that I hate. I grew up like a regular kid after she left.”

“Maybe you need to do the interview then.”

Did he dare? Would Kate advocate that? Would it be the only way to get ahead of this media circus or would it start an even bigger media circus extravaganza?

Rory shoved a hand through his hair.

“And what is this Harvest Festival that you’re performing at? Did you clear any of that with Nolan? Because we don’t do solo gigs.”

“It’s not a solo gig. It’s helping out a friend with a piano duet.”

Kyler frowned.

“It’s a musical score from 1776 by an unknown composer for a tiny local Hazard event.”

“Bet it’s covered big-time now. Sunny-stalker Briscoe is gonna make sure of that.”

*

Head aching after his call with Kyler, Rory headed outside for some fresh air.

He strode through the park. His lead singer was right.

Would media descend on Hazard to cover the local festival?

Would his fans show up? Did he even have fans that would care?

His band wasn’t a huge deal, not yet. But as an up-and-coming indie band, they’d been touring for five years and not just opening for other bands.

They had a significant fan base and decent ticket sales.

His European “tour” had generated some interest, especially in the UK and Norway, which had been a bit of a surprise.

And this Harvest Festival would be a bust if he didn’t figure out how to make the duet work. Still, he probably should connect with Nolan, even though he was dreading that.

Rory stopped cold in front of the statue. He took a moment to analyze his revelation. He was dreading meeting with Nolan.

Why?

Nolan worked for him, not the other way around.

What was it about his latest interactions with Nolan that made him dread a meeting?

Even a meeting over Zoom? He didn’t want to face him, that was it.

He didn’t need Nolan searching his face, trying to see into his thoughts.

Picturing that, Rory knew he needed to talk to his reputation management firm right away.

He knew Kate was meeting with the Gazette, so he whipped out his phone and called Quinton.

He needed some in-depth research on his band manager pronto.

*

“Okay, I figured it out,” Rory said as Kate came through the front door.

She rounded the corner into the parlor, and Rory lost his breath.

She was stunning as Katrina. Her hair swept up and showing off the curve of her neck, little tendrils of curls escaping from her sleek updo to caress her check and shoulder where her collar flared out. Rory’s mouth went dry.

She took a step into the room, and his eyes immediately dropped to those long legs in low heels accentuating the curve of her calves, then up to her straight pencil skirt, this time in a deep, luxurious burgundy that contrasted with her bright white button-up.

She looked all proper, except for the three buttons open at her neck and the fourth almost working itself open as her breasts pushed against the fabric and revealed a little lacy something underneath that was making him want to be anything but proper.

He cleared his throat. “I think I know how to make this work. It’s…unconventional.”

Kate set her clutch down on a lamp table, the filtered light from the fringed lampshade flowing over her and softening her features.

She slid onto the bench, and suddenly Rory was exactly where he wanted to be.

Seated at a piano with Kate beside him. Her arm brushing his.

Her hip pressed to his. Her perfume, with hints of citrus and vanilla, overloading his senses and nearly his common sense.

She was his innkeeper and his media rep and… he wanted more.

He swallowed. It couldn’t be. She was staying here in Hazard, and he would be leaving. In that instant, he decided to ignore that pesky detail and enjoy the moment. This moment.

“Are you going to tell me?” Kate had turned a little to face him, and she was close, so close…

“Yes, well, no.” His head swam a little at her nearness. “Follow my lead, okay?”

She nodded, and they began to play. They fell easily into the rhythm of the first page.

The stanzas coming easier, the interludes between them a bit more complicated, each increasing in difficulty, until they were both concentrating on the music, their breath synchronized.

As they neared the end of the second page, Rory said, “Slow this part down for now. Here, we cross our hands.” They played several measures.

“Here, we cross back. And here, we reach all the way past each other. It’s a stretch but just for this measure.

And here,” they played, slowing the piece down, “Scooch in closer.”

Kate turned with a quick raised eyebrow.

“Trust me, okay? I think this will work. Actually, I think this is the only way this will work. Here, I reach around you with my right hand.” He now had his right arm around Kate.

“And you cross over with your right to the bass keys while I cross into the treble, and here is the closing finale.” They played the last few measures, the final chord resounding with them wrapped in each other arms.

The note echoed in the stillness of the parlor. Rory turned his face toward Kate just as she turned to face him, her lips barely a hair’s breadth from his. She abruptly looked down and away, his lips brushing her cheek.

Kate stilled, her breaths short and shallow, pulse jumping in her throat.

She took a deep breath and let it out slow even as Rory held his own.

“What do you think?” he finally ventured.

She reached up to fidget with her collar. “We played it perfectly.”

“We did.” He waited.

“It actually worked. The change you made.” She angled her body to face him. “But that can’t be what the composer intended. I mean…it’s so odd.

Rory nodded, “It is.”

“What kind of composer would write a piece that puts the musicians in each other’s arms?”

A woman , thought Rory, and wondered where the idea came from.

“It’s…” Kate trailed off.

“Yeah,” said Rory, “It is that.”