“Have you lost your mind, child?” Silas boomed, drawing curious stares.

They’d met at a small diner in Hillsboro, southwest of the city, where Silas had been a regular for longer than Jesse had been alive. If she’d thought he’d take her news so poorly, she might have shared it in a less public location.

“I can’t work with him.” She shoved a crispy fry into a puddle of ketchup. The place was dark and old and a bit dingy, but they knew how to make burgers and fries. “It’s not as if we’re in the middle of the album and I’m asking to start over with someone new. All Ash and I have done is work on one song that I had already started. And I don’t really want to put that song on the album anyway.”

The more she thought about including something so personal, the less she liked the idea.

Silas wiped his mouth. “Are you forgetting what we went through to get to this point? What makes you think Clay Benedict won’t pull the plug the moment we tell him you refuse to work with the only producer willing to take the job?”

That one hurt. “I thought only two turned us down.”

“And this makes strike three,” he said, holding up three fingers. “Jesse girl, we can’t risk losing this deal, and that’s what will happen if you tell Benedict to find another producer. I’m sure of it.” His shoulders sagged. “I’ve sheltered you as much as I can, but this is your last shot. I guess I should have made that clear before, but I had faith that if someone gave you a chance, you’d prove the rest of them wrong.”

By the rest of them, he meant those who believed the rumors. Jesse’s jaw tightened, and her appetite vanished. Shoving her plate away, she simmered in her own reality, chest aching.

Disappointing the sweet man across the table was nearly as shameful as knowing that her dream hung by such a thin thread. What had she done to deserve any of this except work her butt off from the day she’d first picked up a guitar?

And for what? To toss it all away because Ash insulted her boyfriend?

“Forget it,” she said, willing to swallow her pride for both their sakes. “I’ll work things out with Ash. We’ll make this album, and it’ll be great.”

The light returned to Silas’s eyes. “That’s my girl. By this time next year, they’ll all be sorry they turned us away.”

Jesse flinched. Nothing like being reminded of overwhelming rejection to boost a girl’s ego.

After waving for the waitress, Silas patted the back of Jesse’s hand across the small, weathered table. “I have faith in you, little one. You can do this.”

“Thanks, Si. I won’t let you down.”

“Of course, you won’t.” The waitress arrived, and he flashed her his brightest smile. “Dorothy, darling, bring us two big pieces of apple pie. And don’t skimp on the whipped cream.”

Shifting the gum from one side of her mouth to the other, the woman stuck her pen behind her ear. “Anything for you, sweetie.” She dropped her notepad into the apron slung low on her hips and reached for Silas’s empty plate. To Jesse, she said, “Are you still working on that, doll?”

“No, you can take it.”

“But you still have a mountain of fries there,” Silas pointed out.

Jesse’s stomach lurched, but she pulled the plate closer. “You’re right. I’ll nibble on these until the pie comes.”

Silas looked pleased as she dipped a fry in ketchup. The greasy goodness had lost its appeal, but she ate on, trying not to think about the call she’d have to make when this meal was over. Would Ash be willing to stick with her? Or had her tantrum changed his mind? He’d tried convincing her to stay, so maybe they could start over. A simple conversation about boundaries, and then they could put the focus back where it belonged—on the work.

The bell over the door jingled, and the man who entered headed straight for their table. Jesse had met him on three occasions, but he never remembered her. She doubted this encounter would be any different.

“Heya, Si. How are you doing, old man?”

Paul Parsons had been Silas’s client since the sixties and was likely as old, if not older, than his manager. He’d obviously had plastic surgery, and his false teeth glowed so white, Jesse wouldn’t be surprised if they were visible from the space station.

“I’m good, Paulie. You remember Jesse Gold.”

The bloodshot eyes held no recognition. “Yeah. Sure. How you doing, little lady?”

She hoped the distaste didn’t show on her face. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Jesse is making her debut album for Shooting Stars Records. She’ll be a household name before we know it.”

Some would see the statement as empty flattery, but Silas believed every word he uttered, and Jesse knew it. All the more reason to make things right with Ash.

“Good for you, darling. When you get it done, come play for us on the Opry.” Paul tapped Silas on the shoulder. “Make sure I’m on the same night so I can show her around.”

Jesse perked up. “I’d love to play the Grand Ole Opry.”

Silas had been close to getting the Honkytonk Daisies into the lineup when Taylor left the duo.

“Then we’ll make it happen.” Paul swiped a fry from Jesse’s plate as Dorothy returned with their pie. “I’ll get out of the way so y’all can enjoy your desserts. Si, give me a call about that Country Gold special. They’re messing with the slots again, and I’m hearing rumors about them cutting down the time for each act.” Backing away, he added, “Good to see you again, Jackie. And good luck with the album.”

She sighed as the waitress set the pie in front of her. “Why can’t that man ever remember my name?”

“He’s been calling me Denise for fifteen years,” Dorothy drawled. “And I wear my name on my shirt.”

Unable to contain the laughter, Jesse covered her mouth as Silas added, “Old Paul has been singing the same five songs for forty-five years, and they had to give him a teleprompter for his Opry appearances because he can’t remember the words. Don’t take it personally.”

“He remembers your name,” Jesse pointed out.

“That isn’t always a good thing.” Lifting his fork, her manager said, “To the first of many number one albums.”

Seconding the sentiment, she touched her fork to his. “I’ll eat to that.”

Visions of platinum albums and her name in the Opry lights brushed her earlier thoughts away. So Jesse hadn’t landed on solid ground yet. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t. As the cliché went, if it was easy, then everyone would do it. Making it in this business was hard, especially for a woman, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be done. Jesse was going to make this happen, and hopefully, Ash was still along for the ride.

Ash was loading the dishwasher when the call came. He’d begun to fear that Jesse really would walk away from the project so long as he was involved, and knowing the damage the decision would do, he’d resolved to ask Ronnie to take over, prepared to take full blame for the fallout.

“Hello?”

“Ash,” Jesse began, “I’m calling to apologize.”

Not the greeting he expected. Though relief flooded through him, she had this conversation backwards.

“I’m the one who needs to apologize. I shouldn’t have crossed the line like that.”

Jesse sighed as if she’d been holding her breath. “I should have handled things better. Can we try this again?”

“That’s what I was hoping.” Remembering what he’d started before breaking for a late supper, he said, “I’ve been working on one of those songs you played me this morning.”

“I thought you didn’t like those ones.”

Ash was a big enough man to admit when he was wrong. “The last one you played—the one about the woman texting her ex—has some good lines. I’ve been messing with the arrangement, and I think you’ll like it.”

“That’s great. I can’t wait to hear it.” He could almost see her smile and knew that they’d weathered an early storm. There were bound to be others, but Ash felt confident they’d get through them together.

“Be here by nine and I’ll have the demo ready.”

“You already made a demo?”

“Just a rough cut. We’ll change out my vocals for yours, and then get back to finishing your grandmother’s song.”

“About that…” Excitement changed to indecision. “I don’t think that one should go on the album.”

Ash disagreed, but they were early enough in the process that every song was still a maybe. “Let’s just get as many songs together as we can and worry about the final track list later.”

“I can live with that.”

Leaning his bottom on the counter edge, he noticed Brutus waiting patiently at the end of the island. “I’ll let you go then. Brutus is sitting here waiting for a treat.”

“I thought he wasn’t your dog.”

“He isn’t, but I’m a sucker so he has a treat jar on my counter.”

Her husky laugh brought back old memories. “Why don’t you just admit that he’s your dog?”

Ash closed the dishwasher and reached for the clear jar in the far corner of the counter. He’d moved it there after Brutus figured out how to reach it in its previous location. “Because Nancy would argue differently since she’s the one who rescued him two years ago and pays all his vet bills.”

“Sounds like shared custody to me.” Ash heard a beep, and Jesse said, “I need to take this other call. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He resisted asking if the call was from Dimitri. No more crossing that line. “I’ll be ready.”

“And, Ash? Thank you.”

A sigh left his lungs as the tension eased from his shoulders. “No problem.”

She bid him good night, and Ash did the same before ending the call and setting the phone on the counter. Reaching into the jar for one of Brutus’s treats, he said, “That was a close one, big guy. Too close.”

The canine swiped the treat from his fingers, and Ash watched him prance off down the hall. A second later, he heard the swoosh of the dog door and smiled. Shared custody. The phrase could make an interesting song title.

Filing through melodies in his mind, Ash strolled back to the studio to play with the idea.

Usually a night owl, Jesse found her eyelids drooping well before midnight. The emotional roller coaster of the day had left her feeling as if she’d run a marathon. With a yawn, she dropped her toothbrush into the cup and headed for bed, too tired to be upset that Ryan hadn’t called after the show. She’d hoped the call that beeped in on her chat with Ash was him, but no such luck. Instead she’d gotten a robocall for a survey and hung up at the start of the pitch.

Jesse wasn’t sure how she felt about her boyfriend in that moment. Crawling into bed, she hugged his pillow against her chest and felt guilty for second-guessing him. Throughout the drive home from meeting Silas, she’d considered their relationship and why she was still in it. Was she fooling herself? Or was she letting Ash’s opinion cloud her judgment?

Yes, Ryan had a bad reputation, but wasn’t that the same thing Jesse was fighting against? People believing what they heard about her when they didn’t even know her? Granted, parts of Ryan’s reputation had been earned, but people could change. When they found the right person, everything changed.

That’s how life had been for Jesse. Throughout her nearly three decades, everyone who was supposed to care about her either ignored her or walked away. Her parents had reminded her often enough that she’d been an oops they never wanted, and even Ash had left her behind. Knowing now why he’d done it didn’t change the hurt she’d lived with for all those years.

A year after Tommy’s death, Jesse had been convinced that no one would ever love her. Not until Ryan had she even considered the possibility.

He’d been there before the Daisies took off, stuck with her through the good and the bad times that followed, and had never wavered in supporting her dreams. That was the real Ryan. The one no one else got to see.

With a sigh, Jesse made sure the alarm was set on her phone before switching off the bedside lamp and tugging the blankets up close around her neck. She drifted off to sleep, but what could have been minutes or hours later, awoke when a loud thud sounded from somewhere in the house.

Eyes half open, she stayed still, waiting for the sound to come again. When there was nothing but silence, she assumed she’d been dreaming and closed her eyes once more, but a crash from the kitchen made her bolt upright.

Wide awake now, she debated what to do. Lying there waiting to be murdered in her bed didn’t hold much appeal. Jesse’s mind raced as she considered what she could use as a weapon against an intruder. No doubt the idiot would best her in size, but she had the element of surprise on her side and that gave her an edge.

Remembering the baseball bat in the closet, she slowly left the bed and crawled across the floor, careful not to make a sound. Sliding the door on the track, she felt around until cold aluminum brushed her fingers. Armed and annoyed enough to be dangerous, she hovered near the bedroom door, listening. The house wasn’t huge, and she needed to figure out where the interloper was in order to sneak up on him.

On high alert, she heard a click that sounded like the refrigerator door. Who broke into a house to raid the refrigerator? That was all she needed. Some dude high out of his mind looking for snacks and not realizing he’d wandered into the wrong house.

If that was the case, she had no intention of bashing the guy’s head in, but that didn’t mean she’d put the bat down either. Tiptoeing down the hall, a voice in her head said this is how the too-stupid-to-live chicks died in horror movies. Somehow, the absence of eerie music made the situation less scary. If only real life came with a soundtrack, then she’d know what lingered in the darkness.

Another noise came from the kitchen, this one followed by a muffled curse. Maybe the jackass had cut himself. Good. He deserved whatever he got for invading someone else’s space.

When Jesse was halfway down the hall, heavy footsteps echoed through the living room, and she realized the intruder was coming her way. Adrenaline kept the panic at bay, and she raised the bat high to defend herself, prepared to do as much damage as necessary to save her own ass.

The steps grew louder, and a dark figure appeared, silhouetted by the light from the microwave clock behind him. Jesse’s grip tightened on the bat as she reared back, ready to let fly. Heart racing, she waited until the man was close enough for her not to miss and as she started to swing, the prowler flipped on the hall light.

Momentum carried her forward, and a leather clad arm shot up to catch the bat before it connected with his skull. Chest heaving, Jesse froze as her mind struggled to process what she was seeing.

“Ryan?” she breathed, fear quickly transforming into anger. “What the hell are you doing here?”