Mal drained the last of his coffee and glanced at Piper. She shifted around in her seat, almost as if she were waiting for him to give her permission to leave the table. But then she got up and started clearing away the remains of their breakfast and the dishes. He watched her puttering around the kitchen, putting things back in the cupboard and stacking the dishwasher. Despite the fact she had talked about a lifestyle publication, Piper was as far removed from Cora Appleby as it was possible to be. For a start, the way she tucked into a breakfast, loaded with carbs, was poles apart from watching Cora push a few grapes and nuts around her plate.

Cora was his most recent ex. They had met at a charity function around a year ago and hit it off instantly. She had approached Mal at the event to do an interview for her site. It wasn’t his usual thing, but he had been impressed by her confidence and sheer balls to simply come up and ask him to do it there and then, rather than going through his PR or management. The fact that she was absolutely gorgeous hadn’t escaped his notice either. It quickly became apparent that they weren’t totally compatible: she was a vegan, he loved steak; she was teetotal, he loved Jack; she practiced yoga, he charged about a stage for a living. The arguments were spectacular until she couldn’t take it anymore—something about it messing with her chakras. At the time, it had been intense and all-consuming.

As he watched Piper tidying up, he couldn’t help but mentally compare her to Cora. In some respects, they were similar, but for the most part were poles apart. Seeing Piper’s reluctance to tell him about her dreams was endearing. He’d been in Cora’s presence for only a few minutes before she told him what she wanted. The day stretched out ahead of him. For the first time in ages, he didn’t have anyone to please or anywhere to be. There was a part of his brain that was nagging him to go online and read about the fallout of his decision to quit the tour, but the larger, more dominant part was telling him to forget about it, at least for the day. He’d been on the verge of burnout; it was time to chill out and do something for himself. But what? He didn’t like the idea of wandering around the Bay and having tourists, and locals, point at him or ask for selfies. One of the reasons he came home was to appreciate the beauty and nature of the Bay. Maybe with a clever disguise, he could get out for a run.

Mal headed up to his room. He decided not to shower before he went out—there seemed little point as he was going to get all hot and sweaty anyway. He stripped off his shorts and T-shirt and riffled through his closet for some suitable running gear. As he closed the closet door, he bumped straight into Piper.

“Oh! Mal, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were here!” Piper held an armful of his dirty laundry, her face turning redder and redder as she stared at him clad in just a tiny pair of boxers.

Mal grabbed a towel to cover himself. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I wasn’t dressed.” He couldn’t help but notice that her gaze travelled up his body and checked him out. He thought he heard her whisper ‘don’t be’, although he might have imagined it. “You don’t have to do that. I’m perfectly capable of putting clothes in the washer.”

Piper shook her head. “It’s fine, it was in the job description and you’ve only just got home from tour…” She ground to a halt. “I’ll sort it.” She turned as if to go, but then looked back. “What are your plans for today?”

“Why?”

“I want to know what time to have lunch and dinner ready.”

For a moment, Mal thought she might have asked about his plans because she wanted to join him or for them to do something together. He realized he was being silly. She was just asking because she needed to cook for him. He shook his head. “I’m going for a run now and I’ll probably mess around with a guitar this afternoon.”

“I thought you’d be sick of that after being on tour.”

She might have a point, thought Mal. Maybe it would be good to have a day off, do something totally different to what he would usually do. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “A light lunch would be nice: some meats and cheeses, olives, that sort of thing. Then I can carry on working out later.”

“I’ll see what I can sort out.” She cast one final lingering look at him and left the room.

Once she’d gone, Mal let out a low whistle. What on earth was going on?

Not half an hour later, he asked himself the same question as he rounded the top of Highview Hill. Puffing heavily, he noted that his ambitions for running far outweighed his actual ability. It had been such a long time since he’d done more than charge about a stage or jog on a hotel treadmill that he’d forgotten how tough it was. The Florida heat beat down on him, his running outfit a definite mistake. Aiming to hide himself from the locals, he’d found a pair of dark jogging pants and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. He’d added a baseball cap and dark glasses to his disguise and now the cap was sticking to his head. The sweat was streaming over his body as he pounded the sidewalks, and his head whirled with a hundred thoughts at the same time.

He knew calling the tour off had been the right thing to do. If he’d kept going with his current mindset, he would have ended up in therapy or hospital—or both.

Piper’s face came unbidden into his head. Her reaction at finding him practically naked that morning surprised him. He was sure Therese said she wasn’t a fan or a mad stalker or anything. What was it he’d thought at the time? The best of the crazy? The more he thought, the more the germs of an idea for a song came to him. He came to a halt on the sidewalk, near the games arcade and tattoo shop. The food truck, Batten Down The Hashes, was doing a roaring trade as usual, and it took all of his willpower not to stop and get something. He didn’t want to ruin Piper’s lunch. His eyes darted around, looking to see if anyone had recognized him. He thought it unlikely, given his current attire. More lyrics came into his head and he knew that if he didn’t head home, he’d forget them.

I hadn’t met you before…you didn’t know me and I didn’t know you…we could be together, ignore what they think…you’re the best of the crazy…

Could he make that work? He did a couple of stretches and hoped that his body would at least get him home before breaking. The thought of the new song, and of Piper waiting for him at home, spurred him on. He ignored the aching in his legs and started to run again.