Page 17 of High Note

“Selfie!” Lucie called, and everyone huddled in a pile so she could take their picture.

The band had gotten in and the whirlwind that always came with them had descended. It had taken Skyla two days to claw her way out of the coffee/beer/pizza/songwriting/jamming space and get everyone organized enough to go to the ski lodge.

The six of them had managed to fill the house with laughter and music, and Skyla was barely keeping up—at least with Lucie and Greggo. Her lead guitar and drummer were like matches and gasoline, lighting each other up. Thank god that the others were more stable and?—

Icy cold snow hit her, right in the chest.

“Snowball fight!” And that was Mich, her fifty-year-old just turned grandmother fiddle player.

Yep.

Staid.

Solid.

“Bitch!” She bent down to form a ball of her own when Mich’s wife, Andi, pinched her butt, hard.

“Don’t you mean butch, Sky?”

“Lord. I can’t take y’all anywhere.” She pitched her snowball, and years of softball practice meant she winged a hard fastball.

She just managed to miss Brenda’s ass as she pegged Mich.

“Woo! Careful. Don’t hurt me, boss.” Mich laughed, though, the sound wild.

Then it was a free-for-all, the bunch of them throwing snow and hollering like fools.

Fuck, they were all ready to let off steam. She held her own, finding a defensible position by a low wall near one of the bars that was closed this time of day.

She’d missed them, more than she’d thought she would. By the end of a tour, she was out of her mind from dealing with them, but it had been long enough that she was having a ball. And they were pelting each other with snow. Snow! Good lord.

“You know you’re going to have to brush off before we get in the SUV, right?”

Brenda pointed out. “It’s a rental.”

“I know. We all are.” She rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. Brenda was such a herding puppy.

“Uh-huh. Don’t you roll your eyes at me, child.” Brenda’s laughter made her lips twitch.

“How do you always know?”

“You’re a Texan. Your head moves a certain way.”

“Damn. Good to know.” She shivered. “I’m heading into the lodge, y’all. I hear there’s a shop with local artist stuff.”

“Oh, cool! Can we come and let the kids have their fill of snow?” Mich and Andi were on her like white on rice, and Andi twined her arm in Skyla’s. “You picked a neat place, boss.”

“Thanks. I like it here a lot.” Like a lot. Texans and Colorado, she guessed. It was a running joke.

“Excellent. So, let’s find amazing art! I need something for our new condo.” Mich and Andi had found a place outside LAnear the mountains. They’d been searching for a new place, and they wanted to be near the beach, the mountains—everything.

“I want something for the bus.” She had a little paneled wall in the bus that she hung stuff on. Then the one she was replacing went to one of the band for their houses. So she could visit it.

“Oh, cool. I bet you can find something we’ll all fight over.” Mich winked at her, teasing hard.

“I bet.” She snorted because it kinda hurt this time. That joke usually made her cackle. Something about Kirsten’s art-filled apartment had made her…wistful. That was a great word, wasn’t it? She could make it rhyme with fist full.

Andi’s eyes narrowed. “You okay, boss? You doing well?”