Page 35 of Another Fox Bites the Dust

The next week flies by in a flash despite the fact that our days are long and grueling and often last fourteen hours.

We even work during meals, eating and talking and bouncing ideas for lyrics and arrangements off each other. When we’re not seeing to our basic needs, Luke practices playing for me, at first while I’m hiding in the kitchen, but after a day or two, he’s able to sing with me sitting only a few feet away without issue.

Thank God.

It’s great but also getting harder and harder to maintain my façade of keeping everything purely professional. I should have known better. Working side by side with artists is often incredibly personal. Music is emotion in rhythm. Songwriting is all about sharing bits of yourself, of shared human experiences. A sense of awareness hums between us, growing stronger and stronger with each passing day.

Not to mention the way coiled heat tenses in my belly every time he sends me a lopsided smile.

It doesn’t matter.

We’re working on song number seven when Jake comes barging into the cabin. “Knock, knock,” he calls out, walking into the kitchen, arms loaded with grocery bags. “I come bearing sustenance.”

Luke’s playing cuts off abruptly, like a mute button being pushed.

I stand up to take one of the bags from Jake and set it on the counter. “Calling out ‘knock, knock’ as you walk into someone’s home isn’t the same as actually knocking,” I tell him.

“I couldn’t knock—my hands were full.”

“Then how did you open the door?” I ask.

He lowers his voice. “With my mind.”

I roll my eyes and poke through the contents of the bag. “Is there any more?”

“No. But before I forget, Finley wants you both to come to dinner tonight. Archer is making his famous lasagna. It’s not great, but he makes enough to feed everyone in the county twice over, and I’m sick of eating the leftovers.”

Luke and I share a glance.

“I’m not sure we have time,” Luke says.

“Mindy,” Jake pulls out a loaf of bread and points it at me, “stop turning Luke into one of your mindless workaholic drones.”

I smack him on the shoulder. “I’m not. I was just going to say we’ll be there. As long as you’re okay with that, Luke? I think you’ve earned a break. We don’t want to burn out. Besides, rest nurtures creativity.”

He nods in agreement. “Okay. Then I’m in.”

* * *

We pull up to the side of the house right at five o’clock. Finley is standing outside the side door on the stoop, arms crossed over her chest, concern creasing her brow.

Jake passes her into the house first.

When Luke walks by, she smiles distractedly. “I’m glad you could come.”

He enters the house in front of me. Then she meets my eyes and stops me with a hand on my arm. “There’s something I didn’t tell you about dinner.”

“That sounds ominous. Are we dining on the souls of our enemies?”

She doesn’t so much as smirk.

It must be bad. I frown.

A familiar voice calls from inside, the volume increasing as they move closer. “Did you move the plates? I can’t find them in the cupboard by the—oh.” Taylor stops in the open doorway, her eyes locking with mine.

I flick my gaze to Finley, who’s biting her bottom lip, her cheeks flushed.

“Really?”

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