Don't Let the Music Die (The Storyhill Musicians Book 2)

by Annmarie Boyle

  “Thank you for asking, Celeste. I’d love to join you for a celebratory dinner. Plus,” he said, turning that smile on her, “it’ll give Avery and me a chance to catch-up.”

  Oh, no, no, no, there would be no catching up. Avery bit back a retort. No need to show Celeste how deeply Matt affected her. That would lead to too many questions.

  If he could paste on a smile, so could she.

  “Great. You should help us celebrate. It was a team effort, right Ajay?”

  Ajay opened his mouth, but Celeste jumped in. “We received more fan interaction today than we normally get in a week. I’ll deny this if asked, but I think Addison May getting sick was a blessing.”

  “That’s likely because of the larger audience, not Matt specific,” Avery said.

  “The fifty-two marriage proposals say different.”

  Avery choked on her champagne and a bit dribbled down her chin. “Fifty-two?”

  “Okay,” Celeste said, laughing and handing Avery a napkin, “only twenty-ish proposals, the rest requested dating applications.”

  Avery rolled her eyes. “His ego doesn’t need feeding.”

  Matt laughed. “I’m glad it all worked out.”

  The station manager turned to Matt. “It more than worked out. In fact,”—she hesitated, giving Avery a quick glance— “I spoke with the program director and if you’re willing, we’d like you to co-host with Avery—”

  Avery gasped. Oh hell no. “No way! What happened to girl power and all that? One day in and you’re throwing a man at my show?”

  “Hey now,” Ajay interjected, “right here.”

  “You’re not a man,” she stumbled.

  Ajay cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  Avery flapped a hand between them. “I mean, you’re a show staple. You’re not some random guy with no experience who just showed up one day.”

  Matt’s smile faded. “I’m hardly random, Mac.”

  Avery turned her back on Matt and addressed her boss. “Celeste, this not what we discussed.”

  “I do travel a fair amount,” Matt conceded.

  Celeste laughed. She actually laughed. Apparently, the destruction of Avery’s life was funny.

  Celeste set her cup on the table. “You didn’t let me finish. I have no intention of hiring Matt permanently. Our ad revenue doesn’t justify something like that.”

  “Yet.” It was out of Avery’s mouth before she could stop it.

  An eyebrow inched up Celeste’s forehead. “I thought you didn’t want him here?”

  Dammit. “I didn’t. I don’t. I just meant our ad revenue will grow.” She really needed to shut her mouth.

  “Matt would only co-host until he left on tour. That’s probably a couple of weeks?” She looked at Matt for verification.

  “Three,” he confirmed.

  Avery dumped the balance of her champagne down the break room sink and grasped for any mental straw. “Celeste, Matt does not want to spend his mornings here at the station.”

  Matt cleared his throat. “Matt can speak for himself.”

  Her fingers curled into fists. “What will he do? We already have all the guests lined up for the next month.”

  Celeste shook her head. “We’re not getting rid of the guests. Matt will interview them with you. It’ll be fine, Avery. Most morning shows have a whole gaggle of people.”

  “That’s what makes this show different—rotating co-hosts. Keeping it fresh and all that. Isn’t that what you said?”

  Celeste’s lips fell into a straight line. “Nothing changes long term. We’ll just use Matt to help build the initial momentum for the show, then we’ll transition back to the original plan.”

  “Don’t you think that will confuse the audience?” She tried to modulate her voice, but it kept creeping from low-radio-ready-alto to you-cannot-be-serious-soprano.

  “No, I don’t,” Celeste answered, her voice perfectly calm, of course. “Avery, you’re always the first person to jump on a marketing opportunity if it helps the show. Why is this any different?”

  Celeste was not this obtuse. She knew exactly why this was different. Even if she didn’t know the exact details, she knew they had a history. I knew you would never let your personal life compromise your professional life. We have that in common. Celeste’s words from this morning clanged in her ears. Until today, Avery had always put the show ahead of everything else. And now Celeste was doing exactly that. Putting the show ahead of Avery’s discomfort.

  But ‘everything else’ had never included an ex. An ex that was hotter than should be legal. He mixed up all the wires in her head. If she couldn’t stop this and had more days like today, it’d be her out of a job, not him. And that couldn’t happen, not with four people depending on her salary.

  “Avery?” Celeste said, breaking into her growing panic.

  Her head popped up and she blinked, trying to clear the dots of light dancing in front of her eyes. “What?”

  “I need you to get on board.”

  Celeste-speak for ‘the decision is made, stop fighting it.’

  “He hasn’t said yes.” Stellar closing argument, Avery. Now she’ll totally change her mind.

  Both women turned to Matt. Both waiting for him to do the right thing. Each having a vastly different idea of what that meant.

  Matt flashed a single look at Avery before turning to the station manager. “This would be a great opportunity to get more exposure for Storyhill. Let me discuss it with my agent and manager, but barring anything unforeseen, I’m in.”

  All the hope flowed out of Avery, pooling around her ankles. Great. Three weeks with Matt Taylor. Whether she liked it or not. There wasn’t an agent or manager in this world who’d oppose Celeste’s offer.

  “Perfect!” Celeste clapped her hands. “I’ll draw up a simple contract and we can discuss it this evening.”

  “Don’t worry, love, I’ll sit between you and him at dinner,” Ajay whispered in her ear.

  She sighed. She appreciated Ajay’s support, but she doubted it would matter. Despite everything, she was as drawn to Matt Taylor now as she had been at sixteen. She wasn’t getting rid of him. And he’d be hard to avoid.

  Meaning, for the next three weeks, she had to add three more items to her already overloaded plate: do not get sucked back into his orbit, keep all interactions strictly professional, and absolutely no walking down memory lane.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  Avery kicked off her shoes and threw her handbag on the sofa. What a day. What a night. And, if Matt signed on the dotted line, she had many more challenging days and nights ahead of her.

  She really couldn’t fault Celeste—as much as she wanted to. It was hard to determine what was bothering her the most. That he’d shown up and thrown a wrench into what was supposed to be the best day of her life or that he’d waltzed into her studio and done what he always did, flashed his big smile and gotten whatever he wanted.

  “Amy-Lynn? Is that you? How was your big day?”

  Avery walked into the small, but cozy living room she shared with her mother, sister, and nephew in East Nashville. Her mother sat covered in an afghan, cuddled into the plush recliner she insisted on bringing from her former house. In her lap sat the beginnings of a hand-stitched quilt.

  Avery walked to the lamp beside her mother and turned up the brightness. “Momma, you know the doctor said that was hard on your eyes.”

  “Nonsense. I’ve been doing this my whole life. I barely need to look at it. I won’t let this terrible disease take away all of my favorite things.”

  Avery smiled a soft smile and sat down next to her mother. “And people think I’m stubborn.”

  “You are,” her mother said, patting her hand.

  Avery chuckled. “Well, it’s clear where I learned it. And speaking of stubborn, where are Jess and Wyatt? The house is quiet.”

  “Wyatt’s already in bed, and I sent Jess out to pick up ice cream to have with our cake. We have to celebra
te my little girl being a big radio star.”

  Avery pulled her hair back into a ponytail, tugged, and let it fall back to her shoulders. “Oh, Momma, did you listen to the show?”

  Isabel McWilliams laid her sewing down and eyed her daughter over the top of her glasses. “Of course. You were spectacular as usual, my dear.”

  “Momma.”

  Isabel smirked. “Fine. Yes, of course I listened, though Addison May sounded a little more masculine than I expected.”

  Avery rolled her eyes and pointed a single finger at her mother as the door flew open and her tornado of a sister hurtled into the room—in a sequined blouse, sweatpants, and stilettos. She set a quart of buttered pecan on the small dining table and threw off her coat. “Oh. My. God. Amy-Lynn. You’re finally home. Didn’t you get any of my texts?”

  “I saw them.” Avery’s eyes flashed to the ice cream, condensation already dripping down the carton. “You going to put that in the freezer?”

  “It can wait,” Jess said. “A few minutes won’t matter.”

  Avery sighed. Typical Jess. Nothing was a priority for her little sister. Not even melting ice cream.

  “Sissy, seriously. You go to work—to your new, big-ass gig expecting Addison May and you wind up with Matt-effing-Taylor? What the actual hell?!”

  “Did someone mention cake?” Avery asked.

  “It’s in the refrigerator,” Isabel said.

  Avery walked to the fridge, pulled out a white box tied with candy cane striped string and peeked inside. Her favorite. Coconut cake with coconut frosting. She turned to her mother. “You ordered this,” she said with a smile. “They don’t just have these on the shelves.”

  “I couldn’t very well let this day go by without doing something, could I?”

  “Hello?” Jess yelled. “You guys are actually going to talk about cake when the great love of Amy-Lynn’s life just pops up NINE YEARS LATER on her show?” She pulled the cake box from Avery’s fingers.

  “Hey!”

  “Hey, nothing. Did you know about this?”

  “I did not.”

  Jess’s mouth fell open. “Celeste sprung it on you?”

  Avery rubbed the spot between her collarbones and steeled her features in the way she had been practicing since her father passed away almost fifteen years ago. She didn’t want her mother or sister to see how unsettled today’s show made her. “In fairness, Celeste sent me an email last night—which I didn’t see. And, she would have no way of knowing that Matt and I have any sort of history.”

  Jess walked into the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets and drawers for plates and forks. She returned holding a large chef’s knife and pointed it directly at Avery. “Sort of history? The one great true love of your life is now just some sort of history? I will cut you a piece of cake, but I demand all the juicy details.”

  “Nothing to tell. We didn’t really talk.” Avery shrugged. “I guess the only thing you didn’t hear was Celeste asking him to co-host with me until his band leaves on tour again.”

  Jessica spun, knife still in hand, and her mother stopped midway in her rise from the recliner.

  “I’m sorry mi hija, what did you just say?”

  “Momma, it’s your eyesight that’s going, not your hearing. He did a good job. Celeste asked him to stay.” Avery snuck into the kitchen and pulled out her secret stash of extra-strength antacids and popped a handful before returning to her mother and sister, who were now sitting at the table staring at her.

  “What are you going to do?” Jess said. “And remind me, why did you break up with the hottest man in Oklahoma, the man who wanted to marry you?”

  Avery ignored the second part of her sister’s question. That information was strictly on a need-to-know basis, and as far as she was concerned, her sister never needed to know. “I’m going to do my job, just like always. The job that pays for this house and all our bills. This is just another challenge—and one I plan on facing and then moving on. And I will hold him to the same standards I expect of everyone and if he can’t take it, then he can just leave.”

  “Amy-Lynn.” Her mother’s brow furrowed with concern. “It might not be that easy.”

  “I’ll be fine. Like always.” She waved her mother’s concerns off. “I didn’t work this long and hard to let the likes of Matt Taylor ruin it for me. I’ll do it so well, in fact, that Celeste will realize I don’t need a co-host.”

  Her mother didn’t seem convinced, but her sister bought it. “Damn, Amy-Lynn, if it was me? I don’t think I could do it. If it was my ex, and he looked like Matt Taylor, I’d spend every minute flip-flopping between yelling at him and wanting to throw him on the floor and screw him right there.”

  “Jessica!” Isabel shook her head.

  “Sorry, Momma,” Jess said, pulling a face and rolling her eyes. “But it’s true.”

  “Sometimes I wish I could put the two of you in a blender and hit mix.”

  “I’m sorry?” Avery asked.

  “Then I’d have two balanced girls. Jessica would be a little less impulsive—and forthright—and you’d let loose once in a while.”

  Avery blew out a breath. It was her turn to roll her eyes. “I let loose plenty.”

  Jessica nearly snorted cake out of her nose. “Uh-huh. That’s you, the family free spirit.”

  Avery whirled on her sister. Matt Taylor—and Celeste—had exhausted her normal filters. “I’m sorry, but when you want to help around here financially, maybe I can.”

  “Girls.”

  Jessica raised her hands in defeat. “Fine, Momma.” But then she turned to Avery. “I watched a few Storyhill videos a while back and damn, but that boy grew up nice. I don’t know how you’re going to keep your hands off him.”

  “Jess, we haven’t seen each other in nine years. Any spark that existed is long gone.”

  Jess cocked an eyebrow. “If you say so. But, if I remember right, there was a lot more than sparks between the two of you. You two were a full-on, raging out-of-control, forest fire.”

  She remembered. No matter how much she tried to forget. But no way was she admitting that to her nosy sister. Matt Taylor was only an issue if she let him be one. “Give me a piece of that cake and let’s celebrate.”

  Avery carved out a large chunk of cake, and her mouth watered as she raised the sugary goodness to her lips. “Mmm,” she said, licking the frosting from her fork. Maybe cake really was the answer to all life’s problems. “Wyatt’s not going to like that we ate this without him.”

  At the sound of her son’s name, Jessica startled. She looked to the stairs, staring briefly, before dropping her gaze to the empty plate in front of her. “So. Everybody happy? All full of cake?”

  Isabel nodded and Avery turned to her sister, an eyebrow cocked. She recognized that tone of voice. “Why?” she asked.

  “Well,” Jess said, adding extra ‘e’s’ into the short word.

  “Oh my god, Jess,” Avery said, letting her fork clatter to the plate. “Please do not tell me you got fired again.”

  “No,” Jess said, “not exactly.” Avery gestured for her to go on. “I quit.”

  “Why? Why? Why?” Avery begged. This would be the third job Jess had lost in the last six months. Her sister was only eighteen months younger, but they couldn’t be more different. Where Avery was planned and steady, Jessica was flighty—she called it spontaneous. Insert eye roll. She wondered if Jess realized she got to be the “free spirit” because Avery paid the bills, filled the cupboards with food, and cleaned up Jess’s messes?

  Jessica wiped a smudge of frosting from her plate. “It stifled my creativity,” she said, her finger still in her mouth.

  Avery pressed her fingers into her temples. “Jess! When will you learn some responsibility? You are a mother!”

  “Amy-Lynn,” her mother chided.

  “No, Momma, you’re too nice to say anything, but this has to stop. I don’t want to work with Matt Taylor, but you don’t see me quitting.”
She turned to her sister. “If it wasn’t for Wyatt, I’d throw you out right now.” She started for the stairs and swiveled on her sister. “You have six months to figure things out and then you are out of here.”

  Jess gasped. “You can’t do that!”

  “This is my house. I most certainly can.” Anxiety and guilt blossomed in her gut, but she ignored it. Her sister needed some tough love.

  “Don’t take your frustrations with Matt Taylor out on me.”

  Her twenty-nine-year-old, job-quitting sister had the audacity to act like this was Avery’s problem.

  Avery pointed a single finger at her sister. Jess wasn’t wrong. She was taking the day’s stress out on her, but her message was still on-point. It was the delivery that lacked finesse. Enough was enough. “Six months.”

  “Momma!” Jess said.

  Isabel looked at Avery. “What if she pays rent?”

  “And how is she supposed to do that without a job?”

  “I’ll get one. I’ll pay rent.”

  Avery’s shoulders fell in defeat. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Didn’t Jess see that quitting yet another job put more stress on Avery? Now, because of Jess’s actions, Avery would have to earn even more money and put in extra time to get more stations to syndicate the show—all while trying to avoid the all-too-sexy Matt Taylor.

  A clear recipe for disaster.

  Chapter Five

  Matt swung a denim-clad leg over the top of a cracked vinyl barstool. The chair wheezed out a dramatic, malt-scented sigh as the cushion dipped under his weight. He peeled the sole of his boot off the sticky floor, hooking his heel on the lowest wooden rung. What this place lacked in ambience, it made up for in cheap beer and lack of tourists.

  It was the first place he thought of when, as soon as dinner was over, he’d sent out the Bat-Signal.

  For the briefest of seconds, he’d considered signing Celeste’s contract before leaving the restaurant, but something stopped him. Okay, not something. Amy-Lynn stopped him, or more specifically, the look in her eyes stopped him.