Page 92 of The Nanny and the Heartthrob

“You wrote ‘Every Time You Break My Heart?’”

It was a decent Vance Vibe song. No, it was more than decent. It was damned good. A crow could screech it, and it would still be a hit because the lyrics and melody were what made the tune pure magic.

“And there’s nothing I can do about it,” she added with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

This woman was a fighter—a force to be reckoned with. How could someone like her give up?

“If you have proof that it’s your work, there’s plenty you can do.”

“He took my journals and the recordings.”

“Recordings, like in a studio?” he pressed.

“No, nothing fancy like that. I’ve always filmed myself writing and composing. Sometimes I made videos. Sometimes I recorded audio. But he deleted everything.”

He should have hit the guy and then kneed him in the balls. “That’s next level malicious.”

“Vance Vibe might be a no-talent jerk, but he isn’t an idiot. It would be me against his label. And isn’t his label your label?” she asked as the fire returned to her tone.

“It is, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s no friend of mine. I thought the guy was a fraud even before I learned what he did to you.”

Harper didn’t reply.

He shifted in his seat. “Why didn’t you tell me he was the musician who hurt you?”

“Would it have mattered?” she answered, her voice a shaky rasp as she slowed for another stop sign. “Enough about Vance. Are you sure this is the right way? We’re headed toward my house…my grandmother’s house,” she corrected, “in the Baxter Park neighborhood.”

Baxter Park.

He’d been so focused on not dying in a car crash, he’d neglected the scenery.

This was where he and Leighton had lived with their parents before they passed away. He took in the leafy oaks lining the street. They added a small-town feel to the quaint bungalows and two-story Denver square homes tucked side by side beneath a canopy of branches.

“Hey, heartthrob, you’re the navigator. Navigate.”

Snap out of it.

He checked the map on his cell—one of the few functions he liked about smartphones.

“We’re nearly there.”

“Your manager wants to meet with us at a Cupid Bakery?” she asked as a brick building with a brown and white awning and a cupcake painted on the side came into view.

He recognized it.

The breath caught in his throat.

He recognized it. He used to come here with his family.

This was where Leighton fell in love with butterscotch bonbons.

He studied the building. Something was different about the place. “Was this always a Cupid Bakery?”

She glanced at him. “You know this area?”

“I lived here with my family before they passed away. We used to come here.”

“The bakery was called the Baxter Park Bakery for as long as I can remember,” she explained, her tone softening. “Last year, I’m not sure exactly when, they changed the name to Cupid Bakery. I think the owner is getting ready to retire and sold the shop to the Cupid Bakery franchise. My grandparents used to be friendly with him and his wife. Even though the name of the place changed, they still make the same bonbons. I’ve been getting them here since I was a girl.”

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