“See? Now that one there is hoping everybody’s looking.” An hour later, Shelby used her chin to point toward a woman on the sidewalk, and Cooper followed her gaze, shaking his head.
“And you know this how?”
“Watch her as she walks by the bakery.”
The woman slowed at Jenny’s window, peering in and smiling when she saw the stacks of sweet sugar arranged as only Jenny could do.
“Okay?” He shrugged. “She walked by the bakery. She slowed down to check out the donuts. Surely you can relate.”
“She wasn’t looking at the donuts. She was looking at her reflection.”
“And you know this how?”
Shelby pointed again. “Watch her go by the hardware store. And you tell me if garden rakes are as intriguing as she’s going to make them look in a minute.”
Cooper rolled his eyes, but watched the woman pull the same slow-down-smile-straighten-shoulders maneuver in front of the…rakes.
“Am I wrong?” Shelby licked her ice cream cone, sitting back comfortably in the metal chair outside the Scoop de Loop shop. “Extreme self-absorption wrapped in a pretty package. I imagine you’ve been introduced to the type?”
“Fine.” He sighed. “I’ll give you that one, but it was kind of a giveaway.”
“Okay, point to anyone you see, and I’ll try again.”
Cooper looked around for someone he knew. Just then, an older woman came out of the salon next to Jenny’s bakery. It was Bess, who lived in a cabin at Whisper Creek with her husband, Roscoe. He had Alzheimer’s—like Lexi’s mom—and the Driscolls had taken them both in last year when Roscoe’s care had gotten too intense for Bess to handle on her own.
“That woman there, in front of the salon.” He pointed. “Go.”
Shelby studied Bess, and he watched her face as her eyes looked up and down, then back at him. “She’s a little old for you.”
He laughed. “We’re not finding me a woman here. You’re teaching me about women. Wasn’t that your plan?”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “She’s a caretaker, she’s very practical and sweet, and she loves her new hairdo, but she’s afraid nobody will notice it. She’s happy, but she’s sad, too.”
He felt his jaw drop. She’d just described Bess to a T. “How’d you get that, from what you’re seeing?”
“Because her clothes are probably from a discount-type store, and her purse is no-frills standard issue. Everyone who’s passed has smiled and waved like they know and like her. I’d bet twenty bucks it’s been eons since she got her hair done, because she keeps touching it, which means it feels really different to her. And as soon as she left the salon, she pulled out a list that made her take a deep breath…and made her face drop. So her half hour of pampering ends with a long list of stuff she needs to get and do for other people. My guess, anyway.”
“Huh.” Cooper studied her, both amused and mystified by a woman who—by her own accounts—had very little personal contact with people beyond the circle of humans hired to package her up for public consumption.
There was a lot more to Shelby Quinn than people realized. That he could guarantee.
Shelby bit into her cone with a satisfying crunch, not meeting his eyes. “But that’s just me guessing. Let’s try somebody your own age, shall we?”
“No.” He ate the last of his own cone. “You’re scary at this. Let’s go check out the music store. It’s my favorite place downtown, except for Jasper’s.”
“Better idea.” She put up a finger. “Jasper’s coffee first, then the music store.”
Ten minutes later, armed with fresh coffees, they walked into Off the Beat-en Path, and Cooper smiled when he saw Shelby breathe deeply. Liam carried instruments, sheet music, and a curated selection of old vinyl in the back, which he showed only to people he trusted to treat them with the respect he thought they deserved.
“Smells like Heaven,” Shelby said, walking over to the display of guitars like she couldn’t help it.
“Don’t touch.” Cooper cringed as she reached out. “Five-four-three-two—”
“Hey!” A deep voice came from the back of the store, making Shelby jump like someone had poked her with a sharp stick. “Hands off my women.”
“Told ya,” Cooper whispered, then turned around to greet Liam, whose smile went wide once he realized his sacred space hadn’t been invaded by random tourists pawing his merchandise with no intention of buying it.
“Cooper! Haven’t seen you in here in ages!” He stuck out a hand and gripped Cooper’s hard. “They keeping you busy out there at Whisper Creek?”
“Always.” Cooper turned to Shelby. “Liam, this is Shelby. She’s staying at the ranch for a little while.”
“Shelby.” Liam took her outstretched hand in both of his, and Cooper had to tamp down a spark of jealousy when Shelby smiled sweetly up at him. “Good to meet you.”
“Thank you.” She pulled her hand back. “You have some beautiful instruments in here.”
“Better believe it.” Liam sized her up for a second, which Cooper had known he’d do. “Which one do you like best?”
Shelby looked at the collection of guitars displayed neatly on the wall, scanning left to right, right to left. Cooper held his breath as she perused them, wishing he knew what answer Liam was hoping to hear.
“Actually?” She shook her head. “None of them.”
Oh. Well, hell. That obviously wasn’t it.
Cooper braced for both of them to get booted out the door as Liam’s jaw dropped. Then he turned to Cooper, looking more amused than annoyed, which surprised him.
“The lady doesn’t like any of them. Did you hear that, Coop?”
“Um, yeah.” He turned to Shelby, widening his eyes in warning. “Seriously?”
But instead of looking ashamed of herself, she smiled. “Real ones are in the back, I assume?”
“Maybe. What are you looking for?”
Shelby rattled off a name and series of numbers, and Liam nodded respectfully. Then he slapped his leg and laughed. “Damn, Cooper. Where’d you find this one?”
“I—what?”
Liam hooked a hand around Shelby’s arm and pointed to a door behind the counter, still laughing. “You come with me. I’ll show you the good stuff.”
Cooper followed—because what else was he going to do?—but he was still confused. The guitars out front looked perfectly good to him. But when Liam unlocked another door and flipped a switch, Shelby looked as if she’d just found her own version of Heaven.
“This is what I’m talking about.” She grinned as she stepped into the tiny room. “May I touch? With your permission?”
Liam put his hand to his chest. “She slays me, Coop. She really does.” He pulled a stool away from the wall and patted it. “You just sit right here and play these babies all afternoon if you want to. Let me know if you have any questions. I’ll be right out front.”
And then he was gone, leaving Cooper and Shelby in the tiny, windowless room full of gorgeous, probably ridiculously expensive guitars.
Instead of taking one off the wall to try, Shelby leaned on the stool, just looking around, a soft smile stealing over her face.
“Daddy always said this is what we’d do when he retired—we’d find an old hole-in-the-wall music shop, and we’d put the tourist-crap instruments out front, but we’d have a secret room in the back for the real musicians.”
“How’d you know Liam had one?”
“I didn’t. Just had a feeling. He was too interested in what I thought of the stuff up front. It made me think that wasn’t all he had, and he was hoping I’d notice.”
“Well, you obviously called that one right. I think you might be his new best friend.”
“Yeah. Well.” Her face fell a little bit, but she didn’t say more.
Cooper pulled out another stool and leaned on it. “Are you going to try one?”
“I’m trying to get up my courage. I want to make sure my fingers remember the good stuff before I pick one up. It’d be sacrilege to play my tour music on one of these beauties.”
“Okay.” He sat back, watching her eyes skate over the wood, the strings, the rounded shapes. And when she finally stood and pulled one off the wall, it was with a reverent touch he knew Liam would appreciate.
She sat on the stool, hooking one foot on the bar, and then let her fingers touch the strings one by one—the tiniest pluck of each as she tipped her head to listen. As she strummed carefully, then tuned the strings, he watched a peace steal over her face, and he was surprised to feel that same quiet calm touch his own limbs.
“What do you think?” he asked, as she paused.
“I think I’m in love.” She smiled. “Mind if I play a little?”
“Of course not.”
Her smile faltered. “Mind if maybe I do it—by myself?”
“Oh. Um, sure. Yeah. Of course.” He backed out of the room and closed the door behind him.
“She kick you out?” Liam asked as Cooper headed for the vinyl.
“Yep.”
“S’okay. Needs to find her fingers again. Hard to do that with an audience.”
Cooper felt his forehead furrow. “How do you know she needs to—quote—‘find her fingers’?”
“Dunno.” Liam shrugged. “Just know.” Then he pointed toward a section of records still in their original sleeves. “Got some of your favorites back there at the auction last week. Check ’em out.”
“Will do.” Cooper thumbed his way through the classic country records, finding stuff he mostly already had, but plucking a couple of classics he hadn’t managed to find in Boston. He knew damn well he could probably find anything he wanted to online, but there was something satisfying about thumbing through the dust and stories of music store bins that made his finds more personal somehow.
As he flipped through the albums in Liam’s collection, he heard Shelby’s guitar, first as soft as fluttering leaves, but gathering strength as she got used to the strings and the sound. Then she started playing one of her dad’s classics—one that had never had much radio play, but was one of Cooper’s favorites—and he smiled to himself.
“Good taste, that one.” Liam came around to where Cooper was so he could hear better. “How’d you land a woman her age who knows guitars and good music?”
“Yeah, well.” Cooper bit his tongue, not sure how to answer. Not sure how Shelby would want him to. “Not landing her.”
Liam laughed. “Ah, I get it. How long’s she here for?”
“Couple more weeks. Not long.”
“Long enough.” Liam winked. “Make her want to stay. She’s a catch.”
Cooper shook his head. “Do they put that line in the Kool-Aid out here? You’re all convinced there’s nowhere else anybody would want to live.”
“Well, we’re right. There’s no place better.” Liam grinned. “But some of these women are harder to convince than others. I’m still looking.”
Just then, Liam put up a hand like he was shutting Cooper up, even though Cooper wasn’t talking. His eyes went wide as he leaned toward the door to the room where Shelby was playing.
“Holy shit. You hear that?” he whispered.
Cooper swallowed. Yeah, he heard, and he’d been aching to hear it again ever since the night they’d sung together. And now? Here it was—soft, sweet, tentative, as she played her dad’s song. It was a long one, a slow-rising tune with an aching chorus, and as her voice traveled the notes, he felt like his bones might just melt.
Good Lord, there’d never been anything more beautiful.
Liam tipped his head, listening hard, and as she hit the chorus for the second time, he turned to Cooper, a look of awe on his face. Practically hopping, he went to the vinyl Cooper had just combed through, and he came up with the album Shelby was singing from. He held it up like he’d struck gold, and Cooper nodded, entertained by his friend’s obvious glee.
But Liam couldn’t possibly know who was really singing back there—only that she was singing Tommy Quinn’s music.
Liam put the album on the counter, then closed his eyes until Shelby let the last notes of the song trail off. He shook his head, then turned to Cooper.
“You’ve got Shelby freaking Quinn in there. You know that, right?”
“Wha—wait—what?” It seemed safer to play dumb right now. Shelby would kill him if he revealed her identity to Liam.
“Shelby. Quinn.” Liam spoke more slowly, like Cooper was deaf.
“I heard you. I just don’t know why you think that’s—Shelby Quinn.”
Liam stared at him for a long moment, and once again, Cooper could picture himself outside the music store, a firm boot in the ass propelling him there.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Coop. You know damn well who that is.”
Cooper shook his head, but didn’t deny it, and Liam knew it.
“Son of a bitch.” Liam grinned. “Son of a bitch.”
“You can’t tell anyone. Anyone. You get me?” Cooper felt his eyes widen as he tried to keep his voice low enough so Shelby wouldn’t hear.
“You bring in Shelby Quinn, and I’m not allowed to say anything? Do you hate me or something?”
“How’d you know who she was?”
“The harmony,” Liam answered without pausing. “I heard her and her daddy in concert a hundred years ago. Nobody sings like that girl. Nobody. I fell in love, and I was fifteen, I think.”
“So was she, probably.”
“Exactly. So in my head, it was all going to work out just fine, if we could get past the whole backstage-security angle.”
“Nice.” Cooper laughed, then bit down on it as he heard the door creak open.
Shelby emerged with the guitar, a contented, peaceful smile on her face. Cooper closed his eyes and turned away for a second, because if he hadn’t, he was afraid he might put his arms around her, steer her back into that tiny room, and kiss her silly.
“So what’d you think?” Liam asked, all bland shop-owner, rather than the fanatical teenaged fan he’d been.
“I’m in love,” she gushed softly.
“Me, too,” he said, making Cooper’s eyes widen in consternation. Liam cleared his throat as he reached for the guitar. “She’s a beauty, this one.”
“If you have a case for it, I’d like to buy it,” Shelby said.
Liam’s eyes popped. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“But—”
Shelby tipped her head. “Is it promised to someone else? I can respect that, if so. It’s definitely one of a kind.”
“No. It’s not that. It’s just—”
“Are you concerned about the price tag?” She smiled. “It’s okay. I’ve been saving. I know how much it should cost.”
“Um…”
Cooper almost laughed as Liam went completely tongue-tied. The sale of this one guitar could have him closing up shop and heading up to the lake for a long weekend. Or a month.
“Please? Could I buy the guitar?”
Finally, Liam spoke. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Cooper’s voice matched Shelby’s.
“Maybe.” Liam’s voice was firm as he set the guitar carefully on the counter.
“I’m not sure I follow,” Shelby said, her eyebrows marking her confusion.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
“Okay?”
“You know more Tommy Quinn stuff?”
Cooper cringed. He was going to throttle Liam.
“I know—some.” Cooper saw Shelby swallow painfully.
“ ‘River of Dreams’?”
Shelby smiled carefully. “One of my favorites.”
“Mine, too. Any chance you’d come play it at Jasper’s open mic one of these weeks? Just so people can see how it’s supposed to sound?”
“Oh.” Her face shuttered. “Um, no. I really—I just play for myself.”
“It’s a friendly audience.”
“I’m sure it is. But—no. I don’t think so.”
“Ever been to one of his concerts?” Liam’s eyebrows went upward, and Cooper shook his head. He was seriously going to shoot the guy.
“Yes.” She cleared her throat, then turned to Cooper with wide eyes.
“You know,” Liam nodded, “I went to one down in Denver, years ago. Might be the best concert I’ve ever seen, actually. At the end, he brought up his daughter, said they wrote songs together. And then they sang, and I fell in love. I was totally going to marry that girl.”
Shoot him dead.
“Wow.” Shelby’s voice was small as she glanced toward the door, probably calculating how many steps it would take to flee.
“But anyway.” Liam shook his head like he was clearing the memories. “Long time ago.” He picked up the guitar and handed it to her. “You take this with you. I’ll get you a case. You play it for a week and see what you think.”
“Oh, gosh. I can’t take this guitar without paying.” Shelby shook her head, even while her fingers found their way back to the strings like she’d missed them already.
“You’re borrowing it. It’s different.” Liam reached behind him and pulled a case out of a rack. “You fall in love with it, we’ll talk. You decide this baby’s not meant to be yours, then you bring it back. Easy.”
“Liam.” Shelby glanced at Cooper like she wanted his help, but all he could do was shrug. He knew damn well that Liam wanted nothing more right now than for Shelby Quinn to fall in love with a guitar he’d handpicked and kept hidden. Hell, the guy would probably pay her to take it, at this point.
“I insist.” Liam took it out of her hands and placed it reverently in the case. “It’s been waiting for just the right fingers, and I think you’ve got ’em. Come back in a week, and we’ll talk.”
Shelby put up both hands. “I can’t just walk out of here with that instrument, Liam. It’s worth more than me!”
“Not possible.” Liam grinned. “But if the guilt of it all eats you right up, then show up with Cooper at Jasper’s open mic, and play a tune.”
“I—”
“Wednesday at seven.” He clipped the latches shut and handed her the guitar with a wink. “We’ll see you there.”