When Mackenzie came out of the shower, she found Muttley sleeping on the couch and the rest of the house empty. Back to normal, she thought, grabbing the bag of doughnuts off the counter.
She stood next to the stove and sank her teeth into the first one, moaning as the powdery goodness melted in her mouth.
“Gawd. So good.”
Taking another bite, she considered sitting at the table, then shrugged it off. It seemed silly to sit there all alone. Especially when she could have enjoyed her meal with Hunter. But he’d left, which was what she’d wanted. So then why did she feel this ping of disappointment?
Not wanting to think about what that could mean, Mackenzie decided she needed some chocolate with her breakfast. Which required a short walk to the Bark ’N’ Bean, the local dog-friendly café a few blocks from Mackenzie’s house, and perhaps conversing with other humans.
Her therapist would be so proud.
She grabbed Muttley’s harness. “Time to go be social. I was thinking a walk to work off the cupcakes you had last night, then breakfast.”
A loud snoring filled the room.
“You don’t snore, buddy,” she reminded him, then jingled his harness. “This is where you hop up off the couch and prove those teachers were wrong and that you are the best guide dog in Tennessee.” Nothing. Not even a tail swishing against the cushions of the couch. “At least you can pretend to earn your keep.”
It seemed Muttley was more interested in holding down the couch. Not that Mackenzie blamed him—pretending was exhausting.
“Your choice. But don’t whimper to me when your butt gets big and the lady doggies don’t come sniffing around anymore.”
Mackenzie plopped down on the couch and slipped on her tennis shoes. Muttley didn’t budge, except to stretch out his legs even farther, taking up the entire length of the settee.
“We have to stop by the Bark ’N’ Bean and see Tia,” she said, and Muttley hit the floor with enthusiasm.
He had his vest in his mouth and was standing at the front door before Mackenzie had her shoes tied. Nothing got Muttley moving quite like the mention of his first doggy-mommy. Well, except the promise of treats.
Tia Flynn managed the Bark ’N’ Bean. She was also one of Muttley’s favorite humans. Not only were her pockets filled with treats for her favorite canine customers, but she had a soft spot for difficult dogs. Which was how she had been hand selected to train Muttley.
Tia was also Mackenzie’s health-care advocate, and part of Mackenzie’s rehabilitation was to meet with her twice a week in a public place.
Mackenzie had become a pro at finding reasons to avoid their little get-togethers, but instead of the content feeling that usually came with a day spent in solitude, the prospect suddenly felt suffocating. The good news was she’d make her meeting today—and do it with a smile.
When she stepped into the crisp spring air and the sun hit her face, she didn’t have to pretend. The morning chill seemed to make everything better, clearer. It was as if she could breathe again.
Leaves rustled in the canopy of black oaks above as Muttley led her through her quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of downtown. The streets were lined with Queen Anne–style homes and historical bungalows, and most of the residents were either retired or young families. The pace of life was slow, traffic was light, and a sense of community was as sweet as the blooms on the crape myrtle trees.
But it did nothing to quell the irritating unease that grew every time a car drove past or a rock got caught underfoot.
Mackenzie pushed through the door of the café and was met with a warm blast of sugar-sweetened air. She took in a deep breath and allowed her body to relax. Then she heard the hum of the customers, the clattering of silverware, and the uncertainty came back.
She’d been so focused on fresh air she’d forgotten that today was Saturday, and the place was packed. It was a seat-yourself kind of café, and Mackenzie was afraid she’d seat herself on someone else’s lap. Or worse.
“Crap,” she mumbled and turned to head right back out the door.
“Leaving so soon?” Tia called out from somewhere behind the counter.
Mackenzie closed her eyes, knowing she was stuck now. Muttley barked.
Tia walked over and made a shushing sound, and Muttley immediately dropped to his butt and hit his best-in-show pose.
“Now you behave,” Mackenzie whispered to Muttley, who panted happily.
“Tables five and seven are open,” her friend said, not giving a single direction to remind Mackenzie where tables five or seven were. Not that she needed it. Table five was in the corner, next to the window and out of the way of any major foot traffic.
“Whoops, someone just snatched it.”
“Story of my life,” Mackenzie grumbled, picturing the table in the center of the café. “Table seven it is.”
“It needs to be cleared. Just a coffee mug and a plate, but a fresh water bowl is already there for Muttley. I’ll meet you in a sec.”
“Thanks,” Mackenzie said, grateful for that tip.
Tia wasn’t blind, but she’d grown up with an autistic brother who benefited from an emotional support dog and dedicated her spare time to helping others in similar situations. Her superpower was to recognize dogs with the right temperament for service training and understand the obstacles the impaired faced every day.
She didn’t pity Mackenzie. In fact, Tia rarely gave Mackenzie any special breaks—one of the reasons she made such a great sponsor. Tia was conscious of what Mackenzie was up against and was always willing to lend a helping hand—as long as it wasn’t used as a crutch.
Feeling bold, Mackenzie walked to table seven and—would you look at that—carefully navigated around the table without knocking anything over. With a proud snort, Muttley settled at her feet.
He was on his best behavior. In hopes of snagging a treat, he kept all four paws on the ground, choosing to rest only his head on Mackenzie’s lap.
Mackenzie gave him a nice cuddly ear rub when Tia came over. “What can I get you?”
“A double chocolate chunk muffin,” she said. “Heavy on the chocolate.”
“That sounds ominous.” Tia pulled out the chair and sat down, purposefully ignoring Muttley, who was vibrating with excitement over the impending treat. “Does this have anything to do with the shiny truck with the mud tires and lift kit parked in front of your house last night? And this morning?”
Mackenzie’s face heated. “You saw his car?”
“I think everyone who drove past your house saw the car. But I didn’t know your houseguest was a him.” Tia leaned forward. “Spill.”
“Not much to spill. It was a guy I used to work with. More of an old friend. He gave me a ride home, then stayed the night to make sure I was okay because I’d had a drink or two.”
“That’s a long explanation for some guy. Unless?” There was a long beat of silence. “Oh. My. God. I know that look.” Tia snapped her fingers. “It wasn’t just a guy, it was the guy.”
Tia had spent a lot of hours over the past year working with Mackenzie and Muttley. In that time, they’d both opened up about their pasts, shared their secrets. Some dark, some hilarious, but all of them told in confidence.
The quiet life Tia had left behind in northern California hadn’t been one of her choosing. So one night, she’d packed up her car and made her way to Nashville, searching for a radical life makeover. One that included living loud and following her dreams of starting a training school for guide dogs.
Mackenzie had been fleeing the heartache that came from losing everything she held dear. She had known she’d needed to change things up as soon as Hunter proposed to Hadley. Being secretly in love with your best friend was one thing. Being secretly in love with your married best friend? Talk about tempting karma.
Neither one had ever revealed what they were running from, just why they were running. But that too was about to change.
“He ambushed me at a friend’s party,” she said, silently flipping karma the bird.
“You, at a party? Socializing with people other than your agent? Wow, talk about a gold-star week.” Mackenzie would take that gold star and leave out the part where it was Brody’s party. “But being ambushed?” Tia grimaced in sympathy. “How did that go?”
“I kissed him.”
Tia choked on her own air. “I’m sorry. That is so not what I thought you were going to say.”
“Trust me. The shock is mutual,” Mackenzie whispered through the embarrassment. Although embarrassment wasn’t enough to dull the residual tingling. “I told him I liked him and then I kissed him.” Mackenzie held up a hand. “And before you get all girlie on me, he didn’t kiss me back.”
There was a complete beat of silence. “You made it clear that you were kissing him?”
“The only other clue I could have given was sticking my tongue down his throat.”
“But he spent the night? Doesn’t sound like a total disaster.”
“He slept on the couch and only hung around because he wanted to talk about collaborating with me on a project.” Mackenzie took in a big, humbling breath. “As for kissing me back, he said I was too complicated.” Or had he said he didn’t want to complicate things? Bourbon-brain made remembering all the details difficult, but either way it stung. “We finished the night with him stating he wanted to be friends.”
“That long silence is me rolling my eyes, because what a jerk,” Tia said. “He’s missing out.” She paused to instruct Muttley through a series of commands, ending with ordering him to give her a high five and then lie on the ground. All of which he did without question.
Show-off.
“I mean, what kind of guy takes a drunk girl home, a drunk girl who’d just kissed him, and then sleeps on the couch?” Tia asked.
“I can’t be certain, but I think they call them nice guys,” Mackenzie joked, knowing that Hunter was as good and as nice as they came.
“Nice guys are like unicorns. I hear about them, people swear of their existence, but I’ve lived in the birthplace of the southern gentleman for three years now, and I have still never seen one with my own eyes.”
Tia rested her hand over Mackenzie’s but didn’t say a word. The longer the silence, the more self-conscious Mackenzie felt.
“There must be something magical about him, because you’re here and I didn’t have to threaten you.” Tia laughed. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to come over and bribe you with the new Nicholas Sparks movie in order to see you again.”
“No bribe necessary.” All she needed was an empty house that smelled like a big, sexy good old boy with an interest in lace to get her moving.
“How is Muttley doing?” Tia asked, still ignoring the dog in question, who was displaying model behavior.
“He got into the dishwasher again last week to clean the dishes, and he still hides under the covers whenever the garbage truck comes. But last night he rode on the floor of the truck the entire way home,” Mackenzie said with pride, but from the sounds of Muttley’s panting, Tia still hadn’t given up the treats. She was a tough-love kind of person.
“Is he still growling at Arthur’s shoes when he visits?”
“No.” Which was not a lie. He wasn’t growling at anyone’s shoes anymore.
“Did anyone ever tell you you should never play poker?”
Mackenzie let out a frustrated sigh. “No more growling, but he has started stealing any shoes left around the house and hiding them in his bed.” A habit he’d started after the ill-fated playdate with Caroline.
“I trained a search and rescue dog who used to steal stuffed animals from kids and hide them in his bed. What started out as a reward system for the dog led to a really bad habit,” Tia said. “So learn from my friend’s mistakes and don’t be a pushover. What’s cute now will become a pain in your backside later. Trust me. You need to nix this before it becomes cemented and Muttley uses his protectiveness of you to justify a shoe problem.”
“Stop being a pushover, got it.”
“I worry about you,” Tia said softly.
“I know.” Mackenzie worried about herself sometimes. “On a brighter note, Muttley led me through the park on the way here and didn’t give out a single doggy high five,” she said, referring to Muttley’s bad greeting habit of sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong. “There was even a Mommy-and-me playdate going on in the playground.”
“That’s progress,” Tia said, and from the excited smacking sounds, Muttley had finally received his good-boy treat from his teacher. “And how about you?”
Mackenzie plastered on a big fake smile, knowing there was no treat in store for her. “I’m here today.”
“Which is great, seeing as you skipped out on our last three sessions.”
Mackenzie cringed. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been in the writing cave.”
“Yay you, for gracefully falling back into your writing,” Tia said, the sarcasm thick. “Music is therapeutic for you, makes you feel closer to the life you used have. But it’s also a vice.” Tia lowered her voice. “There’s more to reintegration than going from one cave into another. Which is why I keep stressing the importance of gaining your freedom back, finding a peer group, making new friends.”
“I have Arthur.”
“Who is as dependent on you as you are on him,” Tia pointed out. “I want to see you challenge yourself. Really put yourself out there and practice some of the new skills we’ve been talking about.”
“Muttley and I went to a business meeting the other day,” she said with a big grin. “And we didn’t get lost.”
“Did Arthur take you?”
Mackenzie’s smile tightened. “Maybe.”
What she wanted to say was, so what if her friend had driven her and walked her into and out of the building? She’d gone downtown and lived to tell the story. As far as she was concerned, that deserved a good-girl treat.
Tia clearly disagreed. “Arthur isn’t going to be around forever, and it isn’t fair to place that kind of responsibility on him, especially after he spent so much time caring for his wife.”
“Which is why he’s going on a fishing trip next week with his old army buddies.” A trip Mackenzie had given him as a thank-you for helping her get settled in her new house. “It’s two weeks in Alaska, so I’ll be managing all on my own,” she said, and the reality of exactly what that meant finally settled.
It was not a good feeling. At all.
“That’s great,” Tia said proudly, and Mackenzie felt her spine straighten, her shoulders go back, and her chest relax a little. “I was afraid Arthur would stock your fridge with premade meals or hire one of those driving services so you wouldn’t have to take the bus.”
“Nope.” He’d done both.
“Good, because you need to learn how to be more self-sufficient in navigating downtown.”
“Who needs downtown when I have everything I need right here?”
“The hospital isn’t here, your doctors aren’t here, and the support groups you’re supposed to be attending but haven’t shown up to since week two isn’t here either.” Tia closed the distance and spoke slowly. “The more you cut yourself off from the outside world, the harder it will be to find peace.”
Mackenzie wanted to argue that she had all the peace she could handle, then remembered how unsettling her morning had been.
“Keeping cooped up in the house isn’t good for you.”
“I get out.”
“Hiring a car to take you from one building to another isn’t getting out in the world. You need to get comfortable in all kinds of situations, step out of your safe bubble. And if that isn’t enough to get your butt moving, it isn’t good for Muttley.”
“I know,” Mackenzie admitted. “I’m working on it.”
“I’m only saying this because I care about you, and I think you and Muttley are the perfect pair or I never would have agreed to the placement.” Tia’s voice went serious. “But you need to work faster, because if we can’t prove progress, we might have to find another placement for Muttley.”
Mackenzie’s heart dropped, and her hands instinctively went for Muttley’s harness. He was the one stable thing in her tiny world. She couldn’t lose him. “You’d do that?”
“If it meant Muttley would get the kind of exercise and challenges he needs to be good at his job, then yes.” As if that wasn’t scary enough, Tia’s voice went even softer. “But it’s the foundation you need to worry about, not me.”
Oh boy. Guide Dogs of Tennessee had never been 100 percent behind Muttley’s placement. It had taken a lot of convincing on Tia’s part for them to agree to the match, but in the end GDT had approved the placement on only a trial basis. Their concern had stemmed from how hard rehabilitation had been for Mackenzie and how desperately she’d needed a companion. They’d made it clear that, while Muttley would be by her side always, he was not a companion pet. He was a working dog, who needed structure and to be challenged.
“Have they said something?”
“Yes. GDT is concerned that keeping a ninety-five-pound animal locked with you in your house for days on end isn’t fair to him.” Mackenzie’s panic must have been all over her face, because Tia added, “I’m not saying you have to start doing marathons. You just have to be consistent with your progress and Muttley’s routine. To be safe, I think both of you need to gain and display new skills as a team every time we meet. Muttley is a special guide dog with special needs, the main one being consistent discipline.”
“I love that he’s a snuggler.” Doggy hugs were the only regular contact she had.
“Then snuggle away at night. But during the day you need to get out with him, let him practice his skills, be confident in what he’s been trained to do. That was our deal,” Tia reminded her. “A guide dog is only as good as his owner allows him to be. And right now, you’re holding both of you back when the foundation needs to see forward movement. Even if it’s one step at a time.”
“I can do that,” Mackenzie vowed, knowing she would do anything if it meant keeping her little family together.
After three straight days locked in a recording studio, Hunter was desperate for a cold beer, a hot shower, and a solid twelve hours in bed. Preferably with a woman. None of which should have been a problem.
Tonight was ladies’ night at Big Daddy’s. With two-for-one drafts on the menu, ladies outnumbered the gents two to one, making the bar a sea of midriffs, miniskirts, and mile-long legs—many of them aimed in Hunter’s direction.
His problem wasn’t getting laid. It was mustering up enough interest in someone.
His mind kept winding back to Mackenzie in the fuzzy boots and sleep-tousled hair. The teal panties had been a showstopper. She was a pint-size bombshell with the face of an angel and the curves of a pinup. Every guy’s fantasy.
And this guy’s biggest problem, since she’d been avoiding him since Saturday. Okay, she’d been avoiding him since his wedding, but now that he knew where she lived, he couldn’t focus on anything else.
The band had spent the past few days trying to finalize their song list for the label. They’d listened to more than a hundred demos and found two hits. Both written by Mack and Muttley. Leaving Hunter with the few songs he’d been trying to write himself.
“At least consider using one or two of them,” Brody said, trying again to get Cash’s attention—which was securely affixed to a stacked blonde at the end of the bar.
“Did you even listen to the songs I sent you?” Hunter asked, but he could tell from his cousin’s expression he had—and they were as bad as Hunter feared. “Was any of it good?”
“The bones were there, but it was missing . . . I don’t know. Something.”
Yeah, Hunter knew what Brody meant. His songs were lacking the same thing his life was: something authentic enough to hold on to.
“What did the label say?”
“They loved the sampling you submitted and are optimistically hopeful,” Brody said, and Hunter relaxed with relief.
He took his first deep breath since he’d signed on the dotted line for this upcoming album. The expectation he’d been drowning in lifted enough for his chest to ease up. “Not what I thought you were going to say, but Christ, this is great news.” He paused. “You’re not screwing with me, right?”
Hunter knew he was far from a solid album, but now he had the freedom he needed to make it happen.
“I never screw around when it comes to business. Ever.” Brody grinned at him. “Which is why I replaced all your songs with the two from Mackenzie, then explained to the label that it was only a small sampling of what was to come.”
And just like that, Hunter’s lungs stopped working. “I haven’t fully convinced Mackenzie to get on board.” It was only a matter of time before she caved. “If she finds out we are using her songs, I lose all my leverage with her. You have to call the label back, tell them those songs aren’t locked in.”
“No can do, cuz. They already started the paperwork to secure them. And before you go all menstrual on me, those songs are the only reason I didn’t show up with another Cody Kelly in tow,” Brody explained. “We take Mackenzie off the table and peach fuzz will just be the start of your problems.”
“I don’t want to take her off the table. I want to bring her back into the fold.”
“Until I hear from her that she wants to change the terms of your working relationship, we move forward with those songs.”
“We don’t have a working relationship. That’s the problem!” Jesus, was he the only one who was looking at the big picture? “And I need time to fix it.”
“Did you ever stop to wonder whether maybe by fixing your problem, you’re creating a truck full of ones for her?” Brody asked.
“The only way this can become a problem is if I let her walk away again,” Hunter explained. “And that’s not an option.”
“Right, I forgot—your big plan. The one where, when this is all said and done, she’ll go back to sitting in that same house while you’re off living the dream.”
“Maybe it’s time she was reminded of her own dream,” Hunter pointed out, still trying to reconcile the headstrong and vibrant Mackenzie he knew with the hesitant and scared woman from the other day.
“Dreams change,” Brody pointed out. “Sometimes they die.”
“Yours didn’t,” Hunter said. “Even when Savannah was one step from saying ‘I do’ to that suit, you didn’t stop dreaming about her.”
“My situation was different.”
“The woman you loved was marrying another man, making the likelihood of living out that dream impossible. Yet here you are, married to her and raising a family with her,” Hunter said, because if there was ever a time to give up hope on a dream, that was it. But Brody had never let go, and even though his life hadn’t panned out exactly how he’d imagined it, he’d found his way back to Savannah, finding his own happiness in the process.
Brody thought about that for a moment, his face going soft. “Mackenzie’s still healing, Hunter. Tread lightly.”
“What better way to do that than with music?”
“This could be a good thing for her,” Brody said, his focus lasered in on Hunter. “But you need to ask yourself if you are the right guy for the job.”
Well, that pissed him off more than it should. “I’d never do anything to hurt Mackenzie.”
“I believe that you believe you won’t. But your drive is infectious.” Brody shook his head. “You’re like a tornado when you get focused on something—you kick the door down and sweep up everyone along the way and carry them with you.”
“Maybe Mackenzie needs to be carried for a little while, so she can remember what it feels like to fly,” Hunter said.
“This is all about Mackenzie, then?” Brody asked, studying Hunter as if he wasn’t buying what Hunter was selling.
Hunter ignored the warning bells going off in his head that suggested his cousin was onto something and nodded. Confident and firm. “Yeah, and if a hit album comes from it, it’s a win-win in my book.”
Brody skewered him with a look. “Your book being key in that statement. What about Mackenzie’s book? Maybe working with you won’t be a win-win for her.”
“I’ll make sure it is,” Hunter vowed. “Why are you so against this? I thought you’d be on my side,” he asked, wondering how Brody wasn’t grasping the situation. “Ninety percent of our sales from the last album came from single downloads. Two songs, to be exact. The rest of the album tanked. With the right writing partner, that won’t happen again.”
“Which is why I’ll be sending over some tracks for you to listen to tonight.” Brody pulled out his phone and scrolled through a small list of names. “Before you ask, no, Mackenzie won’t be there to throw more of her time into the hat. I asked. She declined. End of story.”
She’d also stayed in the shower for more than an hour to avoid seeing him out.
“She told me she was going to think about it,” he said, and Brody leveled him with a bullshit look.
“Really? Because she told me she wasn’t sure if she could trust me enough to keep me on as her agent just because I told you where she was. So somehow I can’t picture her agreeing to work with you.”
“It will happen, and she won’t fire you,” Hunter said with confidence. Mackenzie might be pissed about the other night, but she’d never fire Brody. “The idea of someone other than your family getting a cut of her success? Never going to happen.”
Mackenzie would never do anything to harm a friend’s career. It wasn’t in her nature.
“Only because hiring a new agent would mean interacting with strangers.” Brody leaned back in his chair. “And she can’t work with you because she’s working on another project.”
“With Arthur?” Hunter said, and man, he sounded like a pussy.
Brody hiked a brow. “You met Arthur?”
“Nope, but his flowers were stinking up the house.”
“The roses,” Brody said with a smug-as-shit smile. “He brings Mackenzie a vase every few days from his garden to brighten up her studio. You should see her place after she sells a song.”
Hunter snorted. “What kind of guy gardens?”
“The kind Mackenzie trusts to help her with her music,” Brody said, then pointed to the list again. “These writers here, they don’t have a Mack or Muttley. But they do have talent. They are top-shelf writers, in high demand, and willing to work with you on the album. Something Mackenzie is not. Plus, they were all vetted by me. Not the label.”
Hunter looked at the list of names. Every single one of them was an award-winning writer he’d dreamed of collaborating with when he’d been coming up in the industry. Now they were willing to work with him. Talk about surreal.
He slid Brody a look. “Most of these guys are booked years in advance.”
“They were interested enough in working with you to free up their schedule for the next few weeks.”
An honor that should have left Hunter feeling hopeful and inspired. And for a moment, he bought into it, enjoyed the surge of pride and excitement that surfaced, and gave himself over to the idea that this was the solution.
Except with all the emotions rushing through his body, he couldn’t find the one thing he’d been desperate for.
Direction.
“I know you had to pull a lot of favors to make this happen, and I am going to listen to the tracks when I get home . . .”
“Ah, Jesus.” Brody reached over the bar to grab a frosty mug and poured himself a beer from the nearest tap. “I am practically handing you a GRAMMY and you’ve already come up with a dozen reasons to say no because you aren’t getting your way.”
“I’m not saying no, but I’m not sure bringing in someone new at this point in the game is the right move for the band. We’re still trying to figure out what we want this album to say, and a new voice, who shares the label’s direction, might lead us down the same path as last time.”
Because, in truth, the last set of writers hadn’t been the problem. They’d just been brought in too early. The Hunter Kane Band had still been figuring out the feel and sound of the album when the writers had come in with a vision that didn’t match the band’s. Hunter had been too distracted by his personal life to come up with a better idea and deferred to the writers.
Huge mistake.
“Some of the band members might disagree.”
Hunter froze. “You’ve talked to them?”
“Not yet,” Brody said. “I was going to see if you wanted to talk with them first, because when Mackenzie says no, and she will, you’ll need a backup plan. And this decision doesn’t just affect you, Hunter. It affects everyone involved.”
“You don’t think I get that?” he said, a little harsher than he’d intended.
His Superman complex, as Hadley called it, was one of the biggest factors in why his marriage fell apart. Hadley wanted him to go solo, and so did the label. The band shared equal ownership in the Hunter Kane Band, but as the front man, Hunter was the one who did the majority of the press junkets, radio tours, and interviews.
His face was splattered all over the magazines, his personal life talked about in the gossip rags. And in between touring and recording albums, while the rest of the band went home to their families, Hunter was tasked with the responsibility of promoting the band. A responsibility that, most days, didn’t bother him. But lately, the weight had become suffocating.
“I think you’ve had a hard couple of years, and I agree that you need some help with the heavy lifting. A writing partner could ease that pressure, help you get back in the right mind space.”
His mind already knew exactly which writer’s space he wanted to be in. Only she wasn’t returning his calls. “I need more time.”
“You’ve got three weeks,” Brody said, reaching for another mug and handing it to Hunter. “That’s when the studio time is booked, and the label won’t give you another extension.”
Hunter took the beer and laughed. “What will they do? Fine me the studio time?”
“No,” Brody said with a seriousness that had Hunter swallowing hard. “They’ll drop the band.”
“What?” Hunter choked on his beer. “They said that?”
“Right before they explained that you’d have to pay back the advance or they’d sue for breach of contract.”
Which meant his band would have to return the multimillion-dollar advance they’d received, most of which his bandmates had already spent. Hunter could come up with his part of the money, easy. The rest of the band had dependents, mortgages to pay, and kids to send to college someday.
“Can they do that?” Hunter asked.
“Yes, and before you go all gladiator on me, you’ll lose,” Brody said. “Which is why I expect the name of the writer you choose in my inbox tomorrow morning. Use the list, don’t use the list, I don’t care. But, Hunter, if you don’t pick someone, the label will.”