Page 18 of High Note

“Huh? Yeah, sure, honey. I was just noodling in my head. Some turn of phrase.” She waved a hand, knowing that would work. The band accused her of always being in her own world.

“Ah, that’s our Skyla. Always writing her next solid gold hit.” Mich chuckled. “And thank fuck for it.”

“That’s it. There’s the shop, I think. Oh, and there’s coffee too. Thank God.” She grinned, nudging Andi to peer out the window where the others were gearing up to get on the ski lift.

“I cannot believe Brenda’s going up there with the young’uns. She’s old enough to break.”

“Yeah, but she’s also old enough to be more careful than they are.”

Andi snorted. “Have youmetBrenda?”

Skyla hooted. “Yes. She’s hell on wheels, but not stupid.” They walked into the art shop, and she immediately liked it. It was a little curated bit of Summit Springs.

There were pictures of mountains, of sunrises, of mountain lions and creeks. Then there was the lesbian art—rainbows and goddesses, violets and swaths of pinks and oranges. Mich and Andi were over the moon.

She studied it all, thrilled to have so much to look at. Oh, she would go to the galleries and shops on Conifer Avenue, the main drag, too. She’d buy something for her parents and her family and friends from each one.

“This place is amazing.” Andi had a heavy little clay Venus of Willendorf in her hand. “I’m going to get this for Mich.”

“That’s awesome, hon.” She had to grin at the boobs out, lips out, round shape. “I bet she loves it.”

“Yeah. When she asks, I like that wild rainbow painting over there on the wall.”

“I will tell her.” She found a weird little rock sculpture for her momma, who would laugh like a loon. And then she saw the sweet little portrait of a black dog, marked with the local animal shelter tag stating all sales went to the shelter fund.

That was the thing, right there.

That made her think of her Reba, who was at doggie daycare living the good life with Nadia at Waggin’ Butts. She thought maybe she needed to take her girl out on a hike. There were trails that looked snow light as they were maintained.

Maybe Kirsten was a hiker.

Her thoughts kept going back to those fingers, how they would feel against her skin, how they would stroke her and make her shudder. They had those guitar calluses, and?—

Yeah. Whew. No getting all hot in a tourist trap.

“Sky, what do you think of that big rainbow painting up there?” Mich asked, sliding right up to her elbow. “You think Mama Andi would like it?”

“I think she would love it. You want me to get it for her?”

“Nope. I’m going to get it. I just wanted to make sure you thought she’d like it.”

“She will.” She hugged Mich to her side. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too! It’s good to bond, to jam out and enjoy life.” Mich kissed her cheek, eyes searching out her wife, always.

“It is. I was feeling burnt out. I got to play y’all this song I wrote the other night with this amazing guitarist I met here.”

“Yeah? I’m in. How’d you find one so quick?”

“The pizza place has live music a couple nights a week. She was playing there. She’s… Wow.”

“Oh. She’s wow like can play, or wow like—wow.”

“Both. She’s a good singer, but she can pick like nobody’s business. And she’s hot.”

Her cheeks heated, and she glanced around.

“You’re safe with me, ladybug. You know that.”

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