Matched(22)

Lindsey swallowed. They didn't know each other well enough for this conversation.

Or for him to have made that supposition. Or for him to have cared. "That's quite romantic of you, but I don't do good matches."

He shrugged over a cookie. "You pegged Mikey with one the other night."

"Not being a bad match doesn't guarantee a good match, and if half of what I've heard about Mikey is true, I wouldn't set him up with anyone. Even Marilyn Elias."

Will choked on his cookie. Lindsey was positive he hadn't met Marilyn, but apparently he'd heard of her.

"All the stories about Mikey are true," Will said, "but they leave out the part where he's loyal as they come to his friends. Day he settles down, it'll be for good."

"Perhaps you should write a song about him then."

"Like writing about pretty ladies better."

And their underwear, she silently added for him while she rinsed her cup and put it in the dishwasher.

"Was why Sacha told me to come here," he added quietly. "To find the music again."                       
       
           



       

Lindsey's heart fluttered, and her hands wobbled. She snagged a towel without looking at him.

And have you?

She wanted to ask, but she wasn't sure she could handle the answer. Instead, she grabbed her purse and coat and shuffled toward the garage. "Well. Good luck with that. Excuse me, but I have marriages to correct and babies to eat."

"Wait a minute there, lawyer lady," he said, entirely too close.

Sneaky man and his sock feet.

He touched her shoulder, lightly, barely a squeeze of his fingers, but there was a possessiveness in his proximity, in his voice.

"You're forgetting your lunch."

He reached into the fridge and pulled out a Styrofoam container that looked suspiciously like last night's leftovers. It was in a plastic bag, and he dangled it by one finger. "Thought you could use it more."

She avoided any physical contact when she took the bag. "Thank you."

He turned toward the sunroom, running a hand through his hair. "And your shoes."

She looked at her feet.

"Dammit," she muttered.

He chuckled.

And the scary truth was, listening to Will chuckle was almost as good a start to the day as eating his cookies.





LAST NIGHT, sometime after he did his dishes and before he baked cookies, Will had gotten his eyes crossed looking Lindsey up on the Internet. She volunteered for the occasional community event. She played in a summer softball league, and there were rumors she'd anonymously made a notable contribution to the local high school's show choir group for new costumes. She was mentioned in her sister's wedding announcement. And that was about it. Other than a lawyer review page equally full of praise from satisfied clients and scathing reviews from their exes, Lindsey's life wasn't the open Web page his was.

He needed to quit thinking about her and keep his head straight.

The lady still had secrets. And she didn't want to share them with him. Her eyes said otherwise, but Will had listened to her eyes before, and look where that got him.

So he'd be nice, treat her the same he would any other woman in his life-fun for now, but not meant to last-and this time, he'd be the one doing the leaving. He wouldn't let his heart get involved. He was here for the songs and nothing else.

Way early this morning, he'd done a dang good job with the writing again.

Hurt that he'd had to do it with the Yamaha. He'd played plenty of guitars other than Vera over the years, and had at least a dozen or so he used on tour, but he always wrote with Vera. He had since Sacha gave her to him.

Writing with another guitar felt like he was being disloyal to Vera's memory. So he told himself she'd made her sacrifice to put him in the place he needed to be to write again.

But between the emotional roller coaster, the mental taxation of writing again, and the rest of the business his team kept throwing at him, he was exhausted. So Will hit the sack as soon as Lindsey left and awoke again around noon. Didn't take more than fifteen minutes of being alone before Will wanted company. Even his music wasn't enough of a distraction.

He wasn't born to be lonely. He liked being on the road, traveling with his band and crew, always having someone to talk to. Liked people. Usually.

But he didn't want to go hang with Mikey. Didn't want to go check out a restaurant or a bar, didn't honestly have time to kick back and go to the movies. Much as he wanted to not be all by his lonesome, he didn't want to invite anyone to his hiding spot either. Good hiding spot it was, too-he hadn't seen a hint that anyone was watching Lindsey's house, and rumor was that he was in Chicago proper instead of out in the burbs of the burbs. After losing Vera so soon after losing Bandit, there was one place Will wanted to go.

He sent Cassidy a couple notes about work stuff-he needed a new business phone and computer, someone to get in touch with the insurance company and the owners of the house that had burned down, and studio space at a local radio station for some rough cuts-then sent Mikey a text to keep his buddy off his back. After a quick search on his phone, he snagged his coat, pulled on his boots, and took himself on out of the house.

Twenty minutes later, he parked at a plain double-wide on this side of Bliss. A simple wood sign said he was in the right place. He locked his truck and crossed the gravel walk to the concrete step, then went in.

He stopped in the small, empty entryway and propped his forearms on the counter. The barking from the door behind the counter had announced him. No need to ring the desk bell.

Sure enough, the door swung open a minute later. "Hush, Killer," a familiar voice said. "That's no way to make a first impression."                       
       
           



       

And there was Pepper Blue swinging around to face him while the door shut behind her. "Oh, hey, Billy." She treated him to a whole-face smile while she smoothed her dark hair. "What brings you here?"

"Looking for a friend."

A subtle blush colored her cheeks. "Human or canine?"

"I'll take both. You working two jobs?"

"Nah, I volunteer. Triple bridezilla morning at the boutique, so I'm taking a long lunch. Want to come on back?"

Somebody woofed behind the door. Friends. "Yeah."

The dogs were in a wide, bright room that smelled like friendly mutt and old concrete. Other volunteers and workers were visible through the glass window of the door into the next room. A litter of friendly yappers in a pen next to him jumped all over each other like fans in the pit at one of his shows. A spaniel mix in the pen across the way jumped and sniffed at him. A few of the dogs barked, but most followed the spaniel's lead, watching and sniffing and wagging their tails. Will reached over the pen and rubbed the spaniel's head, which earned him a doggie kiss.

"That's Ginger," Pepper said.

"Isn't one of your sisters named Ginger?"

"Yep, and this one looks just like her." She flashed him an unapologetic smile, then leaned over a pen to give a gangly redhaired setter a double-handed ear-scratch. "And this is Barbie. I've been lobbying to have her renamed Saffron, but nobody's going for it. They look alike too, don't you think?"

Barbie flopped to the ground and showed them her belly, tongue lolling to the side.

"That they do," Will agreed.

In the pen past Barbie, a tan dog with a black snout and black-tipped ears lay on his belly, nose between his paws. Looked like a lab-boxer mix. His brows twitched, and his sad, dark eyes followed the action in the room, but otherwise, he didn't twitch a muscle.

Just laid there, watching. Waiting.

Pup looked like his dog just died.

"That's Wrigley," Pepper said. "His owner was a state trooper."

Her tone filled in the rest. Wrigley's owner wouldn't be coming home.

Will bent to rub Wrigley's rough fur. "Feel for you, pup," he said softly.

Wrigley nosed at Will's arm, but that was all he did.

"He's four," Pepper said. "We thought we'd found a family for him, but they returned him. They assumed he'd be more energetic at home. No dice."

Wouldn't take much for the dog to perk up, from what Will could see. "He healthy?"

"As healthy as they come."

Wrigley crept forward, still on his belly, and watched Will. His doggie lips were making a doggie frown, all kinds of pitiful written in his eyes.

"Seriously, that's about as excited as he gets."

"You need a rawhide bone, a Frisbee and some warm weather, and you'll find some happy again, won't you, boy?" Will said.

Wrigley crept another inch forward. Will rubbed the pup's head, but he still didn't get up.

"We've tried toys and treats, changing his food, everything," Pepper said. "He's just a quiet dog."

Will hadn't come looking for a new pet. More to hang for a while and recharge his batteries. Dogs were great-they loved you without question. Didn't care if you went out and played for a crowd of twenty thousand, so long as you came home at night. Forgave you for taking them to the vet. Didn't ask anything but to be fed and exercised, kept warm and clean and loved.