Page 9 of Starcrossed Colorado

I gave him the address, and he said he knew it. We pulled back onto the road.

I did not know what to make of Ashford. One minute, he was a bossy, abrasive jerk. And the next, he was almost close to decent. He was odd.

But a serial killer? Nah. Probably not.

“So you’re some kind of musician?”

I could’ve made a snarky comment about his powers of observation, but I assumed he was just trying to make conversation.

“I guess I’m a musician.” Though I hadn’t played or composed anything outside teaching assignments in months. “I’m getting my master’s in music education.”

“That’s why you’re here for the summer? To teach?”

“Yep.”

He frowned at the windshield. His gaze slid to me. Then away again. “Do you have experience teaching?”

“I do, actually. I’ve been giving lessons to kids for years.” Including all through my years in college.

“You seem young.”

“I’m twenty-three. Not that it’s really your business.”

“Doesn’t seem right to show up for the summer knowing you’ll leave soon. Kids get attached.”

My face scrunched. “Teachers come and go all the time. Kids are adaptable. Especially little ones.”

“But most small businesses fail. How do you even know people in Silver Ridge want music lessons?”

“Because everyone likes music. What is your problem, exactly?”

The small muscle at the side of his square jaw pulsed. “Just pointing out things you might not have considered.”

This time, I didn’t hold back my eye roll. “Okay.”

Houses and buildings started to appear. We were coming into Silver Ridge. I was eager to get a sense of it, and also for a distraction from the giant grump beside me.

The architecture was eclectic. A mix of western, Victorian, and newer construction, accentuated with lush flowerbeds and historic streetlights. Fairy lights draped above the patios of restaurants along Main Street, where diners laughed overdinner. Teenagers played frisbee at a park across from a red brick town hall complete with a clock tower.

Stella and I were going to adore this place.

“You’re renting a commercial space from Dixie Haines, right?” Ashford asked.

My head turned sharply toward him. “How’d you know that?”

He pressed his lips together. “Dixie mentioned your name earlier. She said we’d be sharing the same building. I run the martial arts school there.”

O’Neal Martial Arts. That explained the T-shirt. Dixie had told me I was renting a shared space, but she hadn’t mentioned the exact business I’d be dealing with. “So you knew who I was.”

“Look, this is really bad timing for me. That building has been mine for years. I live in the second-floor apartment. I’ve been meaning to add more classes during the day so I can afford Dixie’s rent increase, but how can I do that if you’re using the space? It’s a Catch-22.”

“Were you hoping I’d give up and leave if you raised enough doubts about my summer plans?”

“Pretty much.”

“That’s a dick move.”

He cringed. “I’m not proud of it.”

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