The latest book in the Wynter Wild series is Emerald Fall, available in Kindle Unlimited, ebook and paperback, as well as French and German. Click the buttons to read… or read the first three chapters here.

1 Her Profile

September 2016

As a pearly-white SUV pulled into the pick-up bay, Jesse surreptitiously sniffed his armpit. He always felt gross after a plane flight. Flying made him nervous. Nerves made him sweat.

Sorrel gave him a little wave through the tinted windshield and he hopped in, registering that his new girlfriend drove a BMW that put his Caprice to shame. He leaned over to kiss her and buckled up.

He hadn’t seen Sorrel in five weeks. Prior to that, he’d spent only three days with her—mostly in the van with the band as they drove two long stints from the Las Vegas gig to Salt Lake City, and from there to Denver. Then she’d flown back to Seattle to start her new job. Their relationship had been long-distance. Finally, that was about to change.

“Nice car.”

“My parents bought it for me when I moved to Washington.”

“You drove a brand-new BMW as a student?”

“It’s ten years old now.”

Huh. The exterior was flawless, the interior spotless. Jesse made a mental note to get his car detailed before Sorrel laid eyes on it.

“How old is your car?” she asked.

“It’s a twenty-five-year-old Chevy wagon. A classic,” he added defensively.

“Can’t wait to meet it. We’ll pick it up with your other stuff from Tiger Mountain later.”

“I wouldn’t trade it for the world!” He stroked the leather upholstery. “Well… I might trade it for this.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I could fit three drum kits in the back.”

“Do you have three drum kits?”

“I used to have one-and-a-half kits. I lost thirty percent when my house burned down.”

He was stating a fact rather than fishing for sympathy, and anyway Sorrel already knew. She made a little moue of understanding.

“I have only one harp,” she said, “and it fits nicely in the back with the seats down.”

As she exited the airport, she enquired about his rockstar half-brother. After the back-to-back Australia and US tours, Jesse had stayed behind in LA to unwind with Xay. He had a few funny stories to tell—he kept them clean and brief. Although he’d been eager to get back to Sorrel, he could never regret a moment spent with his little bro and he’d ended up staying a full month, figuring he wouldn’t get another chance for an extended vacation in years. Xay was still living in Kim’s pool house but she’d soon be putting her home on the market and Xay needed a new place. The two of them had half-heartedly scoured the rental market for options. Mostly they played video games and swam in the pool.

The respite had been as relaxing and rejuvenating as he’d hoped for, other than the week Roman joined them. There was no topic of conversation that Jesse and Roman could sensibly engage in.

“Are we going straight to the house?” he asked when Sorrel kept driving north instead of turning east.

“Yes. Alyssa’s still in Vermont. She flies back tomorrow.”

Although Sorrel was a new girlfriend, a confluence of events had led to her moving into the shared house near campus that Aunt Katrina had rented for cousin Alyssa. After Sorrel decided to stay in Seattle for her pet store job, it made sense for Jesse to suggest she move into the house ahead of him and Wynter.

He’d never shared accommodation 24/7 with a girlfriend before.

“You nervous?” Sorrel quipped.

Jesse was drumming his fingers on the dash. “It’s the flight.”

“Surely you’re used to flying by now.”

This had been Jesse’s twelfth flight, the last eight all in the space of three months.

“The more I fly, the more likely I am to board a plane that crashes.”

“I… I guess so.”

“I realize it’s a completely irrational fear.”

“A phobia?”

“Let’s not call it that.” Jesse had acquired some sort of inclination to sporadic panic attacks. He didn’t need to add another mental affliction to his repertoire. “It’s not like I ever refused to go somewhere because I had to fly.”

“Which has been your favorite flight?”

She surely knew the answer.

“That rockstar’s private jet in Australia was cool…”

They exchanged a grin, an unspoken acknowledgment that the fifteen-hour flight from LA to Sydney in June had, of course, been his favorite because he’d spent it talking to her.

As she continued up I-5, Jesse kept sneaking glances at her profile. She knew he was doing it. Her eyes remained on the road but those enticingly glossy lips twitched to acknowledge his attention.

He was probably in love. Hard to tell, given the opaque socio-biochemical definition of love he’d been untangling since he was twelve…

“Why d’you keep staring at me?”

“Your profile fascinates me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You mean… my nose? My nose fascinates you?”

“The nose, the stud in the nose, the eyebrow, the forehead, the ear…”

“Most girls prefer it when a guy comments on her eyes.”

“You’re not most girls.”

She turned her luminous blue gaze on him. “I can’t wait to introduce you to my friends. Did anyone ever tell you how corny you are?”

“No, nobody has ever told me that.”

He didn’t mind it coming from her. He didn’t mind anything coming from her. From the day they’d briefly crossed paths in that storage facility two years ago, he’d been happy to take whatever she dished out.

“I missed you!” he declared.

This was, without a doubt, the most peculiar start to a relationship in his entire life. On that fateful day, she’d met and talked with Caleb and, unfortunately, Harry, for twenty minutes, whereas he’d spoken about three words and left. He’d met her again by chance at LAX. Some might call it fate. Neither of them was comfortable with that word. Jesse had attempted to calculate the odds, which only made the coincidence even more unlikely. But coincidence it had been.

After trying and failing to meet up in Australia, they’d reunited in Las Vegas last month on the second anniversary of their first meeting. After an exciting day and a successful gig, it had been Sorrel’s idea to book a hotel room with a king-size bed. Their first sexual union was precipitated by Sorrel admitting her bristly nature covered for lack of confidence. Her enthusiasm made up for her lack of experience, not that he had any preconceptions going into it. He was genuinely amazed at how perfectly they fit together.

And he was still thanking the universe for putting her in his path and for her change of mind—from the master’s in Idaho to the not-so-dream job at Pacific Pet & Aquarium.

Hopefully, she was happy with the decision, given she’d acquired a dream boyfriend instead.

“I missed you,” Sorrel echoed, “and I haven’t told your sister the good news yet.”

Jesse sucked in his breath. “Has Wyn moved in?”

“She’s on her way there right now. I was on Tiger Mountain yesterday to pack a few things for you, and to give her a key.”

“Was Caleb going to drive her over? Kim?” Maybe they were bringing Theo. Jesse needed his Theo fix.

“Indio.”

Jesse groaned, bashing his head against the back of the seat.

“Is that bad? Indio’s a teddy bear. I mean, I’ve only met him a couple times. Compared to Caleb he seems more approachable.”

“Sure, if he likes you.”

“I guess he likes me then.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Jesse teased. “Wynter’s trying to set him up with her best friend.”

“Ugh. Best friend’s brother only works in romance novels. That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

Jesse kept his thoughts to himself on that matter. After all, he’d once tried to date Quinn himself. All kinds of Code violations going on in this family.

“Regardless of where that goes,” he said, “the problem with Indio is that he always takes Wynter’s side. Considering the nature of our news… it’s not gonna go well.”

2 Leaving

From beneath Indio’s loft, an off-tune rendition of Eagle Rock was belted out at full volume, followed by a cheerful exclamation—Aussie style.

“Steady on, mate, I haven’t pushed yer bloody start button yet.”

A machine beeped in protest.

Indio rolled out of bed and peered over the edge of the railing. Roman sat cross-legged in front of the washing machine tucked under the stairs, pressing buttons at random.

“G’day!” he called up. “Shower’s free?”

“Sure.”

“Getting a load on for a quick rinse. This sheila thinks she knows best and started a heavy soil cycle.”

Indio came downstairs. “Cancel and start over.”

“Where’s the cancel button?”

Indio shooed him off and reset the cycle. Roman had been sleeping in a tent at the forest edge for a month, helping himself to Indio’s facilities. Indio still wasn’t used to the guy’s all-hours showers and friendly abuse of his household appliances.

“Is that new?”

Roman tilted his head and spun around underneath the blue-and-yellow glass pendant light in the kitchen—handblown by Xay’s grandmother—like a little kid trying to make himself dizzy.

He stopped, staggered, and placed a guitar pick on the counter. “Found this in your living room. Your couch room? Your couch… zone?”

Indio’s living room was the open area between his kitchen and his art studio. Definitely more of a zone than a room. His house was minimalist and hyper-modern, not his style but his funds had been limited. He was adding warmth with rugs and natural wood and layered lighting, and softening the clean lines with artwork—framed gig posters, photography from college friends, and a couple of his own sketches.

“Oh, ya gotta take the dogs out tomorrow morning. I have a business meeting.”

“Always happy to take the dogs out. You keep getting there first.”

“If you got up with the sun, you could come with us.”

Indio’s response was a smirk. He never had, and never would, get up with the sun.

“What’s this business meeting?” he asked dubiously.

“That supply store in Issaquah, you know it? They’re taking my junk sculptures on consignment. Caleb’s gonna drive me over at 8AM, so I need time to load up the ute.”

“The ute?”

“The truck, mate. The pickup. The… what d’you call it? The Silverado.”

“That’s awesome. Good luck. Maybe he could take you to the DMV on the way back.” An unsubtle hint that Roman needed to get his driver’s license as an entry point into the adult world.

Roman overlooked the hint. “Nine sculptures, forty bucks each… Never had almost five hundred bucks’ cash before. Can you take me to the liquor store? I’ll buy Caleb the most expensive bottle of whiskey they’ve got, to make up for not paying rent.”

Indio overlooked the bad math. “You know what on consignment means, right? You don’t get the money until the items are sold. And we don’t give Caleb alcohol.”

“Huh.” The news didn’t faze Roman. “I’ll make him a sculpture, then. Something practical, ya reckon? He’s not gonna appreciate a spoon-and-fork windchime. Hey, you want a bird feeder for your patio?”

“Do you have a spare one?”

“I’ll make you one! I can make either a bird feeder or a pen pot for my woodworking class. Nothin’ more useless than a pen pot, is my opinion. So, bird feeder?”

“Okay, sure.”

Roman gave a satisfied nod and bounded up the stairs. “Already walked the pups! Can I have a lend of your towel?”

“There’s a clean one in the—”

Indio gave up when the bathroom door clicked shut. He put on coffee, debating whether to take the dogs for a second walk, swallowing his annoyance that Roman had taken over the duty more days than not.

The kitchen window overlooked the love shack. Wynter emerged carrying a large cardboard box, with a gym bag slung over her shoulder. Moving-out day, and he’d volunteered to drive her to the new house.

She stopped at the goat pen, stacked the box and bag on the ground, and petted Ripley over the fence. Indio went out.

She smiled at him, a hint of regret in her eyes. “I know you’ll take extra-special care of them.”

“Of course.”

“Roman promised to deal with the chickens. The goats need attention from someone they love.” She gazed at the forest, her hand absentmindedly fondling the goat’s ears.

“You’re not excited?” Indio prompted.

Her mouth twisted in a rueful line. “Yes. Not really. I don’t know. You did tell me to never move in with Jesse.”

“He’s outnumbered, three-to-one.”

“Four-to-one, when we find our last roommate.”

Blondie skipped out of the goats’ shelter and trotted on the spot.

“She’s doing her dressage move for attention,” Indio said.

“I’ll go in. My last chance for a while.”

Wynter went into the pen and sat with Blondie to brush her. Indio leaned on the fence and took over scratching Ripley between the eyes.

“Have you arranged a date with Quinn yet? She’s back in Seattle in a few days.”

Indio kept his mouth shut and focused on the goat, giving nothing away. He was well aware of Quinn’s schedule—currently she was visiting her dad in Port Townsend, where he was “reinventing himself” after the divorce. She’d sent him, and no doubt Wynter, too, a dozen random photos over the past week—an old pier, an eccentric bookstore, her dad’s greenhouse, a deer that had shown up in the front yard. Sharing her life with Indio, which made him mildly uncomfortable.

Wynter didn’t let up. “I thought maybe you’d ask her out when we were at Patty’s for your birthday. I saw you talking to her.”

“I was thanking her for making the cake.”

“That was sooo sweet of her.”

“She told me you asked her to make it. That was so sweet of you,” he gritted out.

“But she could’ve said no. Especially after what happened to those cupcakes she made for your last birthday.”

“We don’t talk about that.” He was only joking, but deep down he knew she’d take it seriously. To cut off further discussion, he picked up her luggage and said, “You want that bookcase from my studio?”

“Yes, thank you. Alyssa said the room is huge, so I’ll have to go junk store shopping for more furniture.”

“Just because you have the space, doesn’t mean you have to fill it.”

She grinned, rinsing her hands under the faucet. “Is that your big piece of advice for me, as I move on to the next chapter of my life?”

“That, and don’t leave your towel in the communal bathroom. Get the rest of your things. I’ll bring the bookcase.”

He put the box and gym bag in the back of Nessie, then fetched the bookcase on a furniture dolly. Wynter brought out a suitcase and a pillowcase stuffed with bedding. Packed in the van since yesterday were Jesse’s bicycle, a filing cabinet, a new swivel chair, a big rug from the gaming den, and a dismantled section of the built-in desk from the tower. Caleb had made legs for it, to turn it into a standalone desk.

The door of the mobile home opened and Caleb came outside, still in his PJ pants and a t-shirt. He’d taken up the habit of sleeping in late if the builders weren’t coming. His life had become a little less hectic now he had Kim to help with Theo, and Roman to walk the dogs if Indio didn’t get there first.

“Hey hun, I have something for you.” He fetched a red metal box from the back of the Silverado.

Wynter’s expression was a mixture of excitement and curiosity. Indio recognized what the box was and felt sorry for his sister and her forthcoming disappointment.

“Here you go.” Caleb set the box down inside Nessie’s doors and flipped the catches.

Wynter opened the lid and the box expanded into three layers to reveal a bewildering array of screwdrivers, batteries, duct tape, an adjustable wrench…

“A starter tool kit,” Caleb said.

Indio scoffed. “Starter?”

“Um, this is… amazing,” Wynter managed. “When will I need to use all this stuff?”

“You don’t wanna be caught short.”

“You forgot the can of WD-40,” Indio said, to be a smart-ass.

Caleb reached into the back of the bottom layer of the box, pushing aside a stud finder and a utility knife, and pulled out a can of WD-40. He waggled it under Indio’s nose.

Kim joined them with Theo over her shoulder and Caleb’s phone in her free hand. “It just pinged.”

Caleb glanced at the screen and huffed in surprise or annoyance. Whatever it was, his lips compressed and he shoved the phone into his pocket.

“Let us know if there’s anything you need, okay?” Kim told Wynter.

“You let me know if you need a babysitter,” Wynter countered. “We’ll invite you all over when we’re settled.”

While she gave Theo a final cuddle and Caleb got into the van to check the big items were secure, Indio browsed through the tool box with a glimmer of envy. Claw hammer, retractable tape measure, regular and needle-nose pliers, half a dozen packets of nails, wall anchors, and hooks…

“I don’t know what half of those things are,” Wynter murmured after Caleb jumped down and closed up the van.

“Jesse will be delighted to explain it to you,” Indio said. “Ready?”

Roman bounded over for his goodbye hug, and Wynter authorized him to move back into the love shack. Then, finally, they climbed into Nessie’s cab.

As Indio drove off, Wynter twisted around to wave out the window as if she was leaving for good. Truth be told, she hadn’t indicated how long she intended to stay in the shared house. While Jesse would be done with his master’s in six months, she had three more years of college ahead. She was going through the motions to complete her degree, but she wasn’t particularly interested in it. Everyone knew that. She was doing what they expected her to do, and for now the house in University District was a sensible option.

“Did you see Caleb’s face just now?” she said, as they headed down the mountain. “Did he get bad news?”

“Probably a hiccup with a contractor.”

She fiddled with her phone in her lap. He waited her out.

When they were halfway down the winding mountain road, she found her voice. “I just want you to be happy. You know that, right? That’s why I’m curious about your life. Please don’t fall away. We should talk about things.”

“When it comes to me and Quinn—no. What else did you want to talk about?”

He instantly regretted asking because they had a thirty-minute drive ahead and Wynter would certainly fill that time with things he didn’t want to talk about.

“We’ve been back on Tiger Mountain for a month and it feels like nothing has gone back to normal Things happened…”

His breath lodged in his chest. His instinct was to always be open and honest with her. But what was the point when there was no solution?

Still, he opened the door a crack. “Okay, let’s talk. What things?”

“Your tone right now is too aggressive.”

His tone was supposed to discourage her. To see if his undivided attention would ramp up the pressure and discourage her completely, he pulled over on the shoulder of the road.

“What things?” he repeated.

His behavior left her confused. She continued, less sure of herself. “In Perth, when you walked in on me. We never said one word about it afterwards. Why do we keep moving on like nothing happened?”

“Moving on is the only thing we can do.”

“No, there has to be more. An acknowledgment, at least.”

“I acknowledge it. I’m sorry I startled you.”

“Oh, god…” She wrung her hands in her lap. “You didn’t… You didn’t do anything to me. I think I hurt you.”

He shook his head and stared out the windshield.

“I know, not on purpose,” she conceded. “I guess I don’t understand how anything will get easier if we don’t talk.”

Indio breathed in shakily. “You know what’s in my head, baby. You know how you affect me. You know I think you’re beautiful. You know I’ll never forget what I saw.” He swallowed and dared to meet her eyes. “I’m not wrong, am I? Everything I just said, you already knew.”

To his surprise, she was fighting back tears, clinging to the last threads of her composure.

“I can’t bear that you’re hurting,” she said.

“Well, I can bear it.”

He put the van in gear and continued down the mountain.

He couldn’t help thinking of Quinn, of Wynter’s hopes where that relationship was concerned, and of his fear that he’d never love another woman enough. He should give Quinn a chance. He should try to fall in love with her. He should want to. Yet he was struggling to recapture the fleeting excitement he’d felt after they kissed, before he left for Australia. Before the vision of Wynter burned itself into his brain.

Wynter hadn’t even mentioned the other huge thing they hadn’t talked about—her misadventure in the UK and an assault she barely remembered. Though she’d panicked at first for the safety of their little sister, she’d come through with bravery and resourcefulness.

She would be okay. She was always okay, and she didn’t mention it now because it involved their mother. But the episode had left Indio devastated by a sense of helplessness. And now she was leaving, which was a perfectly ordinary thing for a college student to do. Why was he feeling helpless again?

As they joined the freeway, Wynter checked her phone. “Luke is confirming his first guitar lesson tomorrow at the house. I don’t want him to get the wrong impression.”

“Of the house?”

“Of me. I gave him a guitar and offered him lessons. I told him he could find another teacher but he wants me.” She made a sound of frustration. “I don’t mean he wants me. He chose me to teach him. What if he thinks I want something else?”

It was fairly obvious she did want something else.

Indio played dumb. “You’ve been teaching for a while now. I’m sure you know how to keep things professional.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Ah, so you mean: what if he gets the right impression?”

“I was hoping we could see if… try to… I don’t know.” She shrugged with her entire body. “It feels like some sort of game. I hate games. I probably screwed it up, anyway.”

No more playing dumb. “Because of Damien Cain?”

She flushed when he glanced her way. “What do you know about Damien Cain?” she said tightly.

“What do I know about Damien Cain? Let’s see… Lead singer of LabWork. Older than our eldest brother. Seducer of teenagers in foreign countries.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Jesse will back me up. Do you regret it?”

“I don’t regret anything. Luke and I hadn’t made any promises. He’s a family friend who keeps getting tangled up in our lives. He probably doesn’t want to pursue anything.”

“But you want him to. Isn’t that what we’re talking about?”

“Never mind. I don’t need your advice. I’ll muddle through.”

He had no advice to give, anyway. She had to learn from her mistakes, just as he had at her age. As he was still doing. But his heart ached at her anguish.

Her phone pinged again.

“Oh, this is nice of him. He’s bringing over some furniture that got left behind when he moved his company into the new building, in case there’s anything I can use.”

“Luke’s a stand-up guy. Helpful. Thoughtful. Almost age-appropriate.”

“Finally you admit you like Luke!”

3 Maintaining Appearances

Wynter pushed open the crooked gate. “I’ll ask Roman to build me a little gate like this, for the love shack.”

“You don’t have a fence or a yard.”

She threw a grin over her shoulder. “But I still want a gate.”

Indio loaded himself up with her suitcase and the big box, and followed her. The hundred-year-old Craftsman house, hidden from the street by a row of overgrown bushes, oozed vintage character before they’d even set foot through the door. The most obvious feature was a huge circular window on the second floor. Both the additional story and the window were, Indio guessed, probably modifications made in the 1960s or 70s.

They walked up the pathway. When Jesse opened the door, Wynter ran ahead to greet him with a hug.

“This is gonna be so much fun!” She was overacting, as a joke, and he grimaced at Indio over her shoulder.

Indio clapped his brother on the back as the hug broke apart. They hadn’t seen him in a month but he and Xay had been sending daily updates from California—hiking, barbecues, craft beer, and Jesse’s goofy attempts to learn how to surf.

Jesse waved them into a small cloakroom, and from there into the main hallway.

“Welcome to the Spaceship, Wyn! Sorrel and I have news—”

“The Spaceship?”

“Because of the porthole. Surely you noticed the porthole?” He thumbed in an upward motion.

Wynter lost interest in the conversation and rushed through the big archway on the left into the living room, which featured an impressive brick fireplace and a lamentable sectional couch with saggy cushions.

“Oh, it’s lovely! Much bigger than in the photos.” She walked around the room with a jaunty air, eyeing the crown molding, running her fingers over the mantelpiece. “Imagine lighting this fire in the winter.”

“We’re not allowed to light the fire.”

Indio set down her suitcase and rebalanced the heavy box in his arms. Despite the shabby exterior, the classic touches inside gave the place charm—the fireplace, the ancient uneven hardwood floor, a solid staircase with turned spindles, leadlights in the small windows set above the main ones.

“There’s been a change of plans,” Jesse said when Wynter returned to the hallway to check out the bedrooms.

Wynter made for the first door. “Is this my room?”

Jesse darted in front to block the way. Standing guard.

Wynter turned her attention to the second door, which was ajar. “Okay, I’ll take this one. I’m not fussy.”

Indio nudged the door wide open with his toe. Wynter walked in ahead of him. The generously sized room was furnished with a closet, two armchairs, a desk, an unmade bed with a floral quilt, and a dresser covered in girl things.

Wynter looked around in confusion. “Is this Alyssa’s room? I thought she had the suite upstairs?”

Jesse sidled in—that was the only word to describe the way he slunk up behind them. “This is Sorrel’s room. She’s…” He gestured vaguely toward the back of the house. “She just picked me up from the airport.”

“So that first room is mine, right?”

“The thing is…” Jesse’s expression took on a tragic cast. “Sorrel and I need separate rooms, at least for now. That’s my room.”

Wynter’s jaw dropped. “You’re not sleeping together? Since when do you wait this long with a new girlfriend?”

“We are sleeping together!” Jesse proclaimed with a measure of irritation. “Not that it’s your business. We have to maintain appearances for her parents.”

“Maintain what appearances?”

“Chaste appearances.”

“Her parents aren’t here,” Indio said reasonably.

“They’re talking about visiting for her birthday in a few weeks. They’re very Catholic. At this early stage, we don’t want to piss them off. Her last boyfriend—”

Wynter swiped a hand to silence him. “Okay, nevermind. Where’s my room, then?”

Jesse’s gaze slid guiltily to Indio. Evidently there was a problem with the fourth bedroom, the only one left for Wynter.

But he forced brightness into his tone: “This way!”

They followed him down the hallway, through the brown-and-beige 1980s kitchen where Sorrel said “hi” and turned right back to watching the kettle boil.

Jesse pushed open a door. Was the fourth bedroom in a separate building in the yard? But the door led into an annex, barely six by eight feet, with a sloping roof and ugly army-green drapes drawn across the windows. A bed was wedged into the wall.

The three of them piled in.

Indio glared at his brother. “You’re kidding.”

“Wyn, you love cozy spaces,” Jesse proclaimed.

Wynter gave him a dubious look. She opened the drapes to reveal the view—a concrete yard and parking area backed by an alleyway. Sorrel’s car was parked there, with room for one more vehicle.

“So,” Indio said, “the two of you get a huge bedroom each, Alyssa gets the entire master suite, and Wynter gets… this?”

“My drums won’t fit in here. Sorrel’s harp won’t fit. Whereas your guitar, Wyn, will fit nicely.”

“My rug won’t fit,” Wynter said.

“Fold it in half.”

“My desk won’t fit.”

“We’ll put your desk in the living room.”

“You always tell me to study in a quiet place.”

“You can have my noise-canceling headphones. Look, we’ve worked it all out.” Jesse perched on the bare mattress. “Alyssa pays half the rent—well, Aunt Katrina does—because she has the entire top floor and her own bathroom. We’ll reduce your rent based on square footage plus overheads.”

“I’m warming to the room.” Wynter ran her gaze around it, entirely unaware of the concept of leverage in making a deal.

Jesse jumped up. “I knew you would!”

“How much?” Indio demanded.

“How much what?”

Indio clipped his ear, an awkward endeavor in the cramped quarters. “How much will you reduce her rent?”

“She can pay seventy percent of what I pay.”

“Thirty percent.”

“Sixty.”

“Thirty.”

“Fifty-five.”

“Thirty. And no cleaning chores.”

“I don’t mind cleaning,” Wynter cut in.

“When Indio’s gone,” Jesse said, “we’ll work out something fair.” He shouldered his way past them and out the door to help in the kitchen, ending the negotiations.

“It’s fine, honestly,” Wynter assured Indio, closing the door.

“Baby, you’re supposed to act like you hate it so they feel bad and let you pay less.”

“But I don’t hate it.”

She was probably being truthful. She did like to sleep in small spaces. This room, though…

“This isn’t a room. It’s a lean-to. A sunroom. And it’s as drab as the inside of a shoebox.”

“I’ll paint it.”

“The windows are filthy.”

“I’ll wash them.”

He shook his head, admiring her equanimity. “Hard to believe Jesse’s taking his girlfriend’s parents’ religious sensibilities into account.”

“I’m glad he cares what her parents think. He must be serious about her.” She paced the room, as far as that was possible. “Will your bookcase fit?”

“No. This is, like, three feet of wall space.”

“Hmm.” She reassessed the area. “I’m sure I can make it work. I mean, I have to. I’ll put up some shorter shelves over there. I’ll change the drapes. I’ll hang some art, string some lights.”

She smiled at him, genuinely pleased, so he fixed his attitude.

“At least you’ll be putting Caleb’s toolbox to good use. Let’s take a look outside?”

In the kitchen, Sorrel offered them coffee as they headed for the back door.

“In a minute,” Indio said, giving her an encouraging smile because she seemed anxious—understandably so, considering the “news”, which had almost certainly been Jesse’s initiative.

His phone rang, an unknown number, so he went outside to answer it while Wynter chatted with Sorrel. By the time Wynter joined him a few minutes later, he had some good news for her.

They surveyed the bleak yard that stepped down to the parking area, every surface the same shade of tired gray.

“Any ideas?” she said.

“It’s a problem when the most attractive feature is the cracks in the concrete.” The cracks didn’t even have grass pushing through. “It’s crying out for greenery and natural wood.”

“And lots of fairy lights.”

With Jesse out of earshot, Indio could discuss the phone call. “That was the manager of the Sip Room on Lake Washington, near our old Seattle house. She wants to book us for a few gigs through the fall. We were going to take it easy until next year, but are you interested?”

“We don’t have a bass player. And Jesse’s gonna say we don’t have time to break one in, or for the rehearsals, the late nights…”

“Who cares what Jesse says?”

“Maybe you don’t care. I’ll have to live with the consequences at breakfast the next day.”

Indio dropped the punchline with some relish: “It’s a real small venue, more of a restaurant-bar setup. The invitation is for you and me only. Acoustic set. No bass, no drums.”

She turned to him, bright-eyed. “Oh, I love that idea.”

“I have another. We should release an album of all those songs we’ve recorded, the ones that didn’t make it onto the first album. We have money in the business account to pay Scott to master them. Very little additional work from us, and it’ll keep the momentum going while we’re not playing full-on gigs.”

She was immediately on board. “We’ve been performing some of those songs at gigs already. The fans will love it.”

“And it might stave off the bootlegs.”

“Rule212 is important enough to have bootlegs?”

He grinned. “Yep. Let’s work on a track listing and compare notes.”

Jesse came out with coffee for Indio and tea for Wynter. The charmless yard turned his mood somber.

“We could put up a basketball hoop?”

“It’s not level enough to dribble a basketball,” Indio pointed out.

“Reminds me of Rosa’s yard,” Wynter said glumly.

“Oh, I know what it needs,” Jesse enthused. “Garden gnomes!”

Emerald Fall comes out on August 22, 2026.