“What’s wrong with me?” Ash exploded. “What’s wrong with you, Jesse? Why did you let him talk to you like that?”

Jesse was not in the mood to deal with another cranky man.

“My conversation with my boyfriend is none of your business.”

“Bullshit,” Ash snapped, and Brutus leapt to his feet with a whine. “Nobody gets to talk to you like that. Not when I’m around.”

“You haven’t been around for years, and I’ve taken care of myself just fine. I don’t need you telling me what to do.”

“He accused you of cheating on him.”

“He has a right to ask,” she snapped back, reaching for the notebook. “We’re alone in your house. Ryan doesn’t know you. How’s he supposed to know if he can trust you with his girlfriend?”

“You cannot be serious. How about he should know he can trust you?” Ash shoved a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “And where does a guy with his reputation get off even suggesting that?”

Jesse bolted from the chair, catching the guitar before it hit the floor. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Ash held her gaze. “You know what it means. Why are you with him, Jesse?”

Realizing her mistake, she fit the guitar into its case and clicked it shut. “I am not doing this. I don’t have to sit here and be insulted.”

“Your boyfriend is the one who insulted you. Why didn’t you get this angry with him?”

“Why would I be angry with Ryan for caring about me?” Jesse snagged her jacket off the back of the chair. “That’s more than I can say for you.”

Without looking back, she charged from the room, hurt and shame clogging her throat. In her heart, she knew that Ash was right, but hearing him voice the reality she’d denied for so long raised her defenses. Jesse’s vision blurred with the threat of tears, and she picked up her pace.

“You can’t leave,” he said, following behind her. “We have work to do.”

“We’re done.” Wiping her eyes with her sleeve, she pushed on, blowing through the front door and rushing down the steps. Despite her best efforts, Ash reached the Jeep before she could start the engine.

“This album is too important to walk away because of a stupid argument.” He leaned on the door. “I crossed the line, but I couldn’t let him walk all over you like that. You deserve better than that asshole, Jesse. Don’t let him ruin this for you.”

Brutus barked from the porch, and she couldn’t decide if he was yelling at her, too, or scolding them both for fighting. Neither made her feel any better.

Eyes locked on the steering wheel, she said, “You’re the one ruining this. Thanks for nothing, Ash.” Jaw tight, she finally turned his way. “Again.”

Slamming the Jeep into gear, Jesse backed from the drive and with a quick shift, she peeled away, paying little attention to where she was going. Several blocks later, she pulled into a parking lot to pull up the GPS on her phone since she wasn’t familiar enough with the area to find her way out. Once the lady in the phone started giving directions, Jesse got back on the road and tried not to think about what she’d just done. But, of course, that was all she could think about.

What was she going to do now? Obviously, she and Ash couldn’t work together. Even if they managed to establish hard boundaries about where Ash did and did not poke his nose into her life, he’d already made his opinion on Ryan abundantly clear. His reputation, as Ash had put it, was in the past. Ryan was different with her. He was faithful, and there was no reason to think otherwise. Yes, she had her doubts, especially when he was out on the road, but if he was out there hitting up every eye lash-fluttering chick in a mini-skirt, Jesse would know.

The other members of Flesh and Blood weren’t exactly the responsible type, and they certainly weren’t good at keeping secrets. If there was evidence of infidelity, she’d have seen or heard about it by now. Davy alone lived on Instagram, and if he managed not to blow a secret like that, then the secret flat out didn’t exist.

Drying her cheeks, Jesse approached a traffic light, and the phone told her to hang a left. A few more turns and she reached the interstate. Jesse closed the app with a deep sigh as reality set in. This was bad. Very, very bad. Clay Benedict was going to be furious, and she didn’t blame him. Jesse was proving the rumors to be true—she was impossible to work with.

Desperate to save her career, she took the next exit and found a spot to pull off to use her phone. Silas would know what to do.

Clay spent Monday morning reviewing resumes. The label had been in operation for a year and a half, and thanks to the success of Dylan’s debut record, followed by Chance’s album entering the charts at number one, Shooting Stars was ready to hire an A&R Director.

Otherwise known as the Artist and Repertoire division, he was looking for an individual to handle talent scouting and artist development. Until now, Clay had filled the role himself. His first two choices had proved successful, and he had every faith that Jesse Gold would do the same. But as the label grew, so did Clay’s responsibilities, and he needed someone on the task full time. A new batch of hopefuls arrived in Music City on a daily basis, and he didn’t have the time needed to unearth the true stars.

That meant adding a new member to the team.

So far, he’d printed off three resumes for consideration. One in particular stood out from the rest, and he’d already scheduled the applicant for an interview the next day. As he checked his schedule for when he could schedule the others, the cell phone in his suit coat pocket vibrated to life. The screen revealed the caller to be Joanna Rossi. After the little revelation during his golf game with Silas, Clay had no desire to take the call, but he now knew not to underestimate her. Or tick her off any more than he already had.

Teeth grinding, he answered the call. “Hello, Joanna.”

“Hello, Clayton,” she purred, feigning the posh accent she’d donned in recent years. Clay, of course, knew she’d once been a country-bumpkin waitress with a thick Carolina drawl. “I hadn’t heard from you in so long, I feared you might have deleted my number from your phone.”

He’d considered taking that step but kept the number for this very reason. “I haven’t had a reason to call you.”

The purr evaporated. “Is that your way of saying you’ve replaced me?”

When would she give up this stupid game? They’d had an affair—a choice Clay would regret for the rest of his life—but he’d ended things two years ago. She lacked any semblance of a heart, so the endless pursuit was not motivated by undying love. She’d also made her intentions clear when it came to her husband. Joanna would not divorce Tony for any reason.

So why the hell wouldn’t she let this go?

“I’m not seeing anyone, if that’s your question. I also haven’t initiated any more regrettable affairs.” Clay should have held his temper in check and stopped at the first statement, but he didn’t like being manipulated and had endured enough of her threats. Up to now, he’d been firm without engaging in an all-out battle, but her decision to share their secret with Silas amounted to a declaration of war.

“You didn’t seem to regret our affair when you were buried inside me on your desk at Foxfire. Or in that limo on our way to dinner in New York. I’m sure the driver would agree with me. Surely he heard the whole thing.”

Clay’s jaw tightened. “What do you want, Joanna?”

“You know what I want.”

“Why?” he asked, truly perplexed. “We both know you can find someone else. Or better yet, try limiting your bedroom exploits to your husband.”

The snap in her voice softened. “I’d rather have you, Clayton. It was always you.”

A new tactic he hadn’t expected. “I might have believed that two years ago,” he admitted, the confession bitter on his tongue. “But we both know it’s a lie.”

The three of them—Clay, Tony, and Joanna—had gone from struggling nobodies to influential industry leaders together. They’d been the three musketeers from the moment Tony had picked her up in a small-town diner nearly twenty years ago. He and Clay had been headed to Nashville to chase a dream, and the pretty blonde with a quick wit had jumped at the chance to join them. From the moment she’d stepped into their lives, she and Tony had been inseparable. Any claims that she’d been secretly in love with Clay were utter bullshit.

“You loved me,” she insisted, her voice shrill. “Don’t deny it.”

Love had never played a part in their relationship. Lust, yes. But not love.

“Tony loves you, Joanna. He always has. Do us both a favor and let it go.”

Silence loomed, and Clay waited for the click that would signify the end of this pointless farce. But he wasn’t that lucky.

“You’ll regret this, Clayton. I’ll make sure of that.”

The line went dead, and Clay sighed as he tossed the cell onto his desk. Running a hand through his hair, he spun the leather chair to stare out his office window onto the patch of greenery beyond. When he and Tony had first started Foxfire Records, they’d barely been able to afford the small rental house on 17th Avenue where they’d shared an office view of two ancient Dumpsters. Now he had his own label with a corner office and a beautiful view. Could Joanna take that away from him?

Revealing their affair would damage Clay’s reputation, but he wasn’t the first executive to commit such an offense. A few invitations might mysteriously stop arriving, but his business would be secure. The real victim would be Tony. Could Joanna do that to her husband? Would she chance Tony divorcing her just to get back at Clay for having the nerve to tell her no?

Sadly, he believed she would. And short of traveling back in time to correct his mistakes, there was nothing Clay could do about it.

He couldn’t believe she didn’t come back.

Ash knew how badly Jesse wanted this dream. How hard she’d worked. Without him signing on, Clay might never have found a producer willing to work with her. At least not one worth hiring. For that reason alone, Ash had sat on his porch for thirty minutes, expecting to see her Jeep pull back into the drive. So they’d had a fight. Disagreeing on her choice of boyfriend wasn’t enough to derail the entire project.

Or it shouldn’t have been anyway.

He didn’t regret pushing her to stand up for herself, but he’d pushed too hard. Jesse wasn’t his to protect anymore. Who she chose to date wasn’t his call. But damn it, Ryan Dimitri was a scumbag, and everyone in this town knew it.

Except for Jesse.

Then again, maybe she did. Maybe that’s why she’d gotten so defensive. Ash hoped that wasn’t the case, because knowing she was choosing to stay in a bad situation was even worse than believing she was being duped by a professional cheater.

“You’re early,” his mom whispered as Ash strolled into the daycare center, careful not to wake the sleeping toddlers. “I didn’t expect you for another hour.”

He’d hunted for distractions at home, something to keep him from going in search of Jesse. Not that he knew where to look. He debated calling the label to see if she’d gone there, but the last thing they needed was for Clay to hear about this. Jesse may have been angry, but she wasn’t stupid. Telling the label head that she needed a new producer after only one day would be career suicide.

“My day ended earlier than expected,” he said, lowering himself into one of the tiny preschool chairs. “Who called out this time?”

Kathleen Shepherd pursed her lips and softly tapped a pen against the clipboard in her lap. “Marlene’s grandmother fell again. I’m afraid they’ll have to put her in a home for sure now. It’s the third fall in two months, and it looks like a broken hip this time.”

Ash grimaced. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is she going to be okay?”

“They took her to Vanderbilt so she’s in good hands, but Marlene was a wreck on the phone. With both her parents gone, Ms. Louise is all she has left.”

The statement reminded him of the song he and Jesse had been working on before the blow up. They’d been close to finishing, and he’d already had an arrangement in his head. “Sweet Evie May” would never be a single, but it carried the personal tone they needed on the album.

“I’m glad it’s only a broken hip and not something worse.” Ash glanced around and noticed a familiar set of eyes watching him. “How long have these guys been asleep?”

She checked the clock on the wall. “Nearly an hour. We’ll get them up in another fifteen minutes or so.”

“One of them is way ahead of you,” he mumbled, well-acquainted with Buddy Winston’s troublesome ways.

His mom had opened this daycare center nearly three years ago, and Buddy had been attending since opening week. Barely able to walk back then, he’d still managed to land in one predicament after another. To his credit, the little towheaded child had charm for days and a smile that could win over the hardest of hearts. Both of which had saved him on more than one occasion.

Overhearing Ash’s statement, the young boy closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

“You said you were starting a new project today,” Mama said, her Georgia drawl as pronounced as ever. “Did my needing you mess that up?”

“No.” Ash had messed up all on his own.

“Who is it this time?” she asked. “Anyone I know?”

Ash had put off sharing the details of this particular project for a reason, but he couldn’t dance around the truth any longer.

“You know her,” he replied. “I’m working with Jesse Gold.”

The blue Bic stopped tapping. “You’re working with the Rheingold girl?”

Mama had referred to Tommy’s family in this way ever since the accident. Never first names, just the Rheingold this or that. After they’d shut him out, Mama Shepherd had declared the entire family miserable human beings who’d never deserved to have her son in their lives to begin with.

“Yes, I’m producing her debut album.” Jesse might not think so at the moment, but they would hopefully be back to work tomorrow.

Mama’s face puckered as if she’d caught the scent of something rotten. “I don’t like you working with her. The whole family is heartless, the way they threw you away like that. As if you’d done anything on purpose. You were hurting, too.”

They’d had this conversation countless times, and Ash felt no desire to rehash the subject. “Jesse didn’t know that her parents turned on me. She thought I left on my own.”

“Then why didn’t she call you herself?” Mama asked, her increased volume causing the little ones to stir. Lips pinched, she held her tongue while they settled back to silence. “Like I said,” she whispered, “they’re all the same regardless of whatever sob story she fed you. I don’t trust her, and neither should you.”

Ash had never faulted his mother for her resentment of the Rheingold family. He’d resented them himself for many years. But he believed Jesse and had no intention of walking away from her again. Not for his mother or anyone else. He had a debt to pay, and producing her record was a small price compared to the hurt he’d caused her.

“This is a job, Mama. A good one. Jesse needs my help and, in the process, I’m getting my foot in the door to being seen as a capable producer. Writing songs is fine, but shaping the sound that comes out of this town is what I really want to do.”

As he knew it would, the statement softened her features. “Can’t you get your foot in the door working with someone else? What about that nice man you worked with over the summer? What was his name?”

“Chance Colburn, and that job is what led me to this one. I only produced a few songs on Chance’s album, but now I get to create an entire record. If I can pull this off, I’ll earn my place, and the projects will keep coming.”

The brunette one mat over from Buddy leaned up and rubbed one eye. “Ms. Shepherd, is it time to get up?” she asked.

“Yes, it is, Madison. Go ahead and visit the little girl’s room.” To Ash, she said, “You wake the boys, and I’ll take care of the girls. Julia prepared the snacks before she left so once they’re in their seats, we’ll get them fed.”

As more children opened their eyes, the chaos of the afternoon kicked in, and Ash had no time to worry about Jesse or their stalled project. Once the kids had gone outside to play, he’d found a second to check his phone, but there was no word from his wayward artist. For the next several hours, the kids required his full attention, offering a much-needed distraction, and leaving Ash exhausted as the last child exited with a parent just before six. But the day wasn’t over. As he mopped the floor, he found himself whistling while he worked, filling the air with a tune he quickly realized wasn’t his own.

The melody was from a song Jesse had played him back in the conference room. He had to admit, the tune was catchy, and that wasn’t always a bad thing. Struggling to remember the words, he tapped out a rhythm on the mop handle and considered several ways to expand the song.

Formulating a plan, Ash would spend the rest of the evening on the instrumentation and have something to start with the next morning. He hadn’t been immune to her disappointment when he’d shot down her original ideas, and admitting that at least one had merit would go a long way to mending the rift between them.