Crazy in Love (Blue Lake #3)(36)

Whatever happened must’ve been bad.

Someone dropped something heavy onto the floor. Clutching the sheet to her chest, Rachael swung her feet over the edge of the bed and listened.

“What happened?” Rita yelled. “Is it the model again?”

Rachael listened harder.

“No, it’s not her. It’s…” Another boom fell to the floor. Was someone stomping? Kicking the furniture? “…I started thinking about something else and lost focus for two seconds.”

“Well two seconds was all you needed to muddle everything up!” Rita countered. “It’s a good thing you’ve got a second show tomorrow night to redeem yourself. You’re going to get the innkeeper to make you a pot of coffee right now and you’re going to sit your fine backside down and go over every song in the lineup. Got me?”

“I got you.”

“Where is that innkeeper anyway?” Rita spat. “Isn’t this her job?”

Rachael got out of bed, slid her feet into her slippers and shrugged into her robe. As she made her way down the hall, her steps slowed. If she went downstairs now, seconds after Rita mentioned her, they’d know she’d been eavesdropping.

“She’s probably sleeping,” Cole said. “I’ll make the coffee myself. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to be alone while I practice.”

Silence.

“Fine, but you better get your act together before tomorrow night. Take the day off, let me and the crew take care of everything at the venue. Show up at six o’clock, ready to kill the show. Got it? Six!” Long, tension-strained pause. “What you don’t seem to understand is that you’re the talent, Cole. The talent. If you lose that, all you’re left with is a gorgeous face, and that won’t get you too far in this business.”

He must’ve nodded, because without another word, Rita stormed out the front door, slamming it behind her.


Rachael shuffled down the stairs and stopped at the bottom. Cole leaned back against the dining room wall, his foot kicked up, his head dropped back as if he was reading invisible words on the ceiling.

“You want coffee?” she said, her voice crackling through the stillness.

He startled. “Jesus, Rachael. You can’t creep up on people like that.”

“Who else would you expect to be here in the middle of the night?”

He nailed her with a heated glare. “This place is supposed to be haunted, right? Could’ve been a ghost or something.” He rolled his eyes and sagged against the wall. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She tightened her robe to make sure it was closed. She wasn’t nude beneath, but the white tank and panties didn’t cover much. “I wasn’t listening to your conversation, but I caught the tail end. You want me to make you coffee?”

He nodded, his eyes going dark as she passed by and swept into the kitchen. She made a fresh pot and waited until a cup was ready to pour. As she spun around, mug in hand, she nearly plowed into him.

“I was going to bring it out to you.” She handed it over.

He drank quickly, wincing when the liquid hit his lips. “I’ll take it here, thanks.”

She stood, watching. Waiting for him to do or say something. He was acting strange. Whatever happened at the concert must’ve really bothered him. After taking a few sips, he set the mug on the counter.

“Why’d you leave after dinner tonight?” he said, licking traces of coffee of his lips.

She shrugged, and poured herself a cup. She didn’t want it, but it kept her hands busy and her attention off his plush, kissable mouth. “I had things to do here.”