"Couldn't have asked for better, Miss Marilyn, ma'am."
"I would be more than happy-"
Dad slid her a side-eye, and she stopped.
Will's country boy grin stayed in place, but there was a keen awareness in the flicker of his gaze. Fifteen years ago, he'd said he wasn't much of a scholar.
He didn't have to be. He was smart about people, about music, about life. "Dinner sounds like a right good plan." Will put his hand at the small of Lindsey's back. Those warm honey eyes connected with hers, laugh lines crinkling, his country boy grin turning to a rueful, private smile. And she couldn't help but smile back.
He'd always made it impossible not to smile back.
Dad cleared his throat.
"Real good timing, actually," Will said. "I was fixin' to call Pepper Blue tomorrow to talk about that judging gig with your Battle of the Boyfriends, but seeing as you're here now-"
Lindsey choked on her tongue.
Marilyn tittered, that obnoxious, fake giggle that Nat called her devil laugh. "Oh, Billy, how lovely! By the power vested in me as chairperson of Knot Festival, I hereby accept. We would be delighted to have you, playing or judging."
"Aw, now, can't play for you." He put an apology into the tilt of his lips, then topped it with a wink. "Take too much attention from the real talent of the night."
The man was annoyingly charming. "The Battle of the Boyfriends is almost four weeks away, Billy," Lindsey said.
Pointedly.
Will lifted a brow at her. So? it said.
"Tour rehearsals don't start until after that," he said. "Told my management team this afternoon. Be an honor to do it. Love giving back to little towns. Came from one, you know."
This has nothing to do with you, his words said.
But there was a dare lingering behind his words.
Go on. See if you can let go after three weeks. I'll still be here.
Lindsey swallowed hard. "That's very kind of you."
Marilyn tittered again. "Such generosity," she said.
"Aw, shucks, ma'am. Ain't nothin'."
"And how delightful that your dear friend Mikey has found true love in Bliss too. I've always said it's the town of fairy tales."
Will nodded. "Yep. Never seen Mikey smittened before."
Marilyn's eye twitched. "Smitten."
"Suppose it depends on where you come from, Miss Marilyn."
"Where I come from," Lindsey said, "it's dinnertime. Pizza, anyone? I'll call it in."
"Dinnertime," Dad agreed.
"I might could be up for that," Will said.
Marilyn's eye twitched again, which would've been funny if Will wasn't playing games with all of them. Teasing Marilyn with her grammar, playing the Billy card to win Dad's approval, pushing Lindsey's buttons because he could.
Lindsey grabbed the s'more plate and stepped out of the room to call in a pizza order. And even though it was on par with leaving Will to swim with the sharks, she left him with her guests and went upstairs to change out of her work clothes. When she returned to the sunroom, everyone had taken seats. Marilyn was perched primly in a chair, Dad at one end of the couch, Will lounging at the other end. Not a problem in general.
But the conversation was not good.
"We used to have a matchmaker," Marilyn was saying, "but our hopes for our next matchmaker have thus far not materialized."
"Looks like you're making do," Will said.
"It would be easier to bear, were there not a uniquely qualified person living so close by. Who has also been asked to judge the Battle of the Boyfriends."
Three sets of eyes swivelled to Lindsey. Wrigley stared at Marilyn with a doggie frown that bordered on I'm fixin' to growl at you.
From Wrigley, that was positively dangerous.
"Enough, Marilyn," Dad said softly.
"Simply making an observation," she said. "Lindsey, I don't believe I've ever had the privilege of being in your home. It's quite lovely. Rather unexpected."
"Fits her well, what I've seen," Will said.
As though he belonged here too.
As though he were staking his claim.
As though he had a right to an opinion.
He shouldn't have. But he did.
No small part of her that wanted to know what he thought of not just her house, but also her life. Her choices. Who she was.
She needed to let him go now.
Because she wouldn't be able to keep her own terms when his three weeks were over.
BY THE TIME Lindsey's dad and the crazy Bliss lady left, Lindsey looked like she would've rather been plucking her nose hairs with rusty tweezers. She collapsed onto the couch in the sunroom, head in her hands, her whole body sagging like she wanted to dissolve into a puddle.
"Didn't have to invite 'em to stay," Will offered.
If that was supposed to be a glare she aimed at him, she was missing the mean in it. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Not as though she had been crying, but more like she was exhausted. "You could make friends with a possessed unicorn, couldn't you?"
"Probably so. We both fart rainbows."
She gaped at him for half a second before a sad laugh slipped out. "I should show you to the door too."
Probably so on that too. He was getting attached when he knew better. Aside from the havoc she might play on his heart, he didn't have time to go chasing a girl. His next album was delayed, management was talking about adding stops to his tour and last time he talked to Aunt Jessie, she'd clammed up completely and said she had to go when he asked how Sacha's monthly moonlight aura-cleansing went.
Aunt Jessie and Sacha disagreed sometimes, but Will had never seen them out-and-out fight. Whatever was going on, he figured they'd make up soon enough.
So he did what he did best lately-he stuck his head in the sand, pretended his life and his family and his career were all in order, and he retreated into his music.
He grabbed his Yamaha and sat next to Lindsey, crowding her while Wrigley took his spot at her feet. "Wouldn't kick me out, would you?" Will pressed a kiss to her hair. "'Who's gonna do your dishes if I go?"
"I'll hire a pool boy."
"Pool boy can't do this." He strummed the Yamaha, looking for the notes in "Three Little Birds." Didn't take long to find them, and before he started singing, she shifted.
"I know this song," she said.
He grinned. Didn't surprise him. He'd pushed her mostly out of his brain the last fifteen years, but some songs-like this old one-always made him think of her. "Sing it with me," he said.
"Not a chance."
"Aw, c'mon, lawyer lady. Can't be that bad."
"Yes it can."
He skipped the first verse, went straight to singing about everything bein' all right. And she leaned into him, her head nodding on his shoulder while he sang.
She fit there, snuggled up to him while he played. He treated her to another Bob Marley song, then switched into some Colbie Caillat. His crew would make him turn in his man card if they heard, but all that "Brighter than the Sun"-it fit Lindsey.
It fit what he felt when he saw her. When he touched her. When she ran her fingers over his arm, his leg, his guitar. When she pressed a kiss to his shoulder, giggled at the lyrics he improvised to be about her so he could listen to her sweet laugh.
Didn't make any sense she couldn't feel it too, but she'd still put that three-week limit on him. And the girl wouldn't have her mind changed.
Not easily.
Good thing Will had some experience in fighting his way to the top. Couldn't help wondering what he'd lose to get there this time though.
"Never did finish that s'more," he said eventually.
Lindsey pushed his guitar away, then climbed into his lap. "You play dirty, Will Truitt."
He didn't have to concede or argue the point, because she touched her lips to his, opened her mouth to him, and treated him to something better than all the s'mores in the world.
LINDSEY HAD A very strong suspicion why Will didn't breach the threshold of her bedroom, and by Saturday morning, she was equal parts relieved and frustrated by it.
No, that wasn't true.
She was way far gone on the frustrated end of the spectrum.
She shouldn't have been-her couches had gotten plenty of action-but he was wearing her down. Making her want to invite him all the way in.
He'd made her house more into a home every day. Some nights by making dinner, others just by being there with Wrigley while she cooked, a good bit by putting music back into her life, but mostly by being her friend.
It was what had worn her down fifteen years ago too.
Why do you let them treat you like that? he'd asked after seeing her friends give her a subtle snub for the umpteenth time.
There's more to it than I can explain. But it's my fault. I stuck my nose where it didn't belong and said things about things I don't really understand. It was all she'd told him, because she hadn't wanted to confess to her gift. She'd wanted to be normal.
Still deserve better, no matter what you did, he'd said. So long as you meant good.
He'd treated her as though she were normal. kindhearted. Human-she made mistakes-but forgivable.