The Treble With Men (Scorned Women's Society #2) - Piper Sheldon Page 0,18

needed to be back home and back in these mountains to feel inspired. To finish something through to the end. Kim, that’s her name, is going to help me. Though she goes by Christine now, actually.”

“Okay.” Wes shook his head and blinked rapidly like he was trying to make sense of everything.

“I heard her practicing after rehearsal a few times.” I explained. “She has incredible talent. But it’s not about her.” I held his gaze.

His eyes narrowed. He wasn’t buying it but sensed I wasn’t saying any more about her.

“What’s that other guy’s deal? The one hovering over Kim’s mom?”

“Roderick Chagny.” My voice was heavy with distaste. “I’m not sure why he’s back. I don’t like it.”

“I don’t trust him. Too charming.”

“Said the pot about the kettle.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sincere though. I can’t help it.” Wes’s eyes drifted over as I spoke. “Wait. Chagny … I know that name.”

“His parents are rich.” I forced cool indifference into my voice. “Big donors to the SOOK performance center.”

“How would I know any of that? Wait.” Wes snapped his fingers. “He was that kid that you hated from camp.”

“You can’t remember your wedding anniversary, but you can remember some kid a lifetime ago?”

He threw his arm around my neck. “I remember people that mess with my little bro.” He tugged off my hat to give me a noogie before I could stop him. He was two and a half solid inches shorter than me and had gained a post-football season gut about fifteen years ago, but he never passed on an opportunity to show me he was the older brother. I pushed him off and put my hat back in place.

“He didn’t come after me,” I growled. “He just got under my skin. I was a counselor when he was there, and his parents’ wealth made him untouchable.”

“Didn’t he do something? Some drama?” Wes asked.

“Not officially,” I mumbled. “He managed to never get caught doing anything. He’s just one of those people. Everybody loves him. He says just the right things. But I would always catch him in these little lies. For no reason. Always claiming something that was small, almost harmless. But blatant, pointless lies.”

“Yeah, I know the type. Like ‘I’ve got four parakeets,’ when you know for a fact they don’t, but also who the fuck lies about having birds?”

“That’s a real specific example, but yeah, exactly. And you can’t call people out on stuff like that or you look like the jerk.” I took another slug of beer.

Wes nodded and gulped down the rest of his bottle. “I hate guys like that. Don’t worry. If you want, I'll kick his ass.” He flexed and kissed his biceps. “These guns haven’t lost their bullets.”

“It amazes me that we’re related.”

Wes pushed my head and I pulled a punch to his gut.

“I better head out. The girls are probably threatening to tie Kelly up and break out the cookies.”

I laughed and walked him to the door.

“I’m glad you're back. It’s nice being able to stop by like this.” Wes squeezed the doorframe, checking the sturdiness all while avoiding my gaze.

“Yeah,” I said, sniffing once before stuffing my hands deep in my pockets. I wouldn’t be here for long. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Not right now.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for.” He held my gaze. “With the SOOK,” he added.

“Me too.”

Chapter 8

Let the music call you.

KIM

I wiggled deeper into the sheets. I would let myself have just a few more minutes. Practice could wait. Swimming could wait. Just for a little while longer. My eyes wouldn’t open anyway, so if they went on strike, I was at their mercy. My head rested comfortably on a pillow that must work part-time as a cloud, and the heavy down comforter smelled like fresh laundry and sunshine.

I went back under with a contended sigh.

The next time I woke up I was a little more concerned about where I was. My eyes shot open and blinked away the sleep rapidly. I frowned at a vaulted ceiling I’d never seen. My fingers splayed out to grip a majestic duvet that wasn’t mine.

“Curious,” I said.

I turned my head to the side and spotted a few pieces of furniture. Too homey for a hotel, but lacking in personal touches. Guest room? It was lovely and comfortable, but it was still distressing not knowing where I was. I fought sleep to recall the events of the night before. My phone sat on the bedside table.