And my guitars. Acoustic. Electric. I had a white Fender Stratocaster. A gorgeous wood-grain Gibson Les Paul. A vintage Rickenbacker bass. Some, like the Gibson Hummingbird acoustic in my hands, I played. Others were just for display. Not to be ostentatious—I didn’t show off my collection. No one knew of its existence. I had them because I loved them. Because it made this place peaceful. And mine.
Sometimes I contemplated why I kept this part of myself so separate. But the answer to that was simple. Music made me vulnerable. I’d never worn my heart on my sleeve like my father did. I was too much like my mother. Practical, logical. Cold. On the outside, at least.
I’d discovered music as an adult, and it had become my outlet. The only real way I was adept at expressing myself. And that simply wasn’t something I wanted to share with the people who knew me as Shepherd Calloway.
I strummed a few more chords, the melody coming easily. I’d left the office early to give myself time to decompress before Everly arrived. The arrangements had been made quickly—by Everly, of course. It was her job, after all. She wasn’t giving up her apartment. Simply moving what she’d need for the next several months. Enough to convince my father, and Svetlana, that we were a couple.
She’d be arriving soon, so I needed to get upstairs. After putting my guitar back on its stand, I slipped out and took the elevator to the penthouse.
A knock on the door heralded Everly’s arrival. I opened it to find her with two movers in the hallway outside, all of them laughing hysterically.
“Yes, I’m serious,” Everly said. She seemed to be in the middle of a conversation that they all found incredibly amusing. “It really happened. Cross my heart. Oh, hi, Mr. Callow—I mean, hi, Shepherd.”
I glanced at the two movers and their smiles faded. “Bedroom is to the left. End of the hallway.”
They nodded, readjusting their grips on the boxes they carried, and moved past me.
“Wow, way to ruin the mood,” Everly said.
“Excuse me?”
She pressed her lips together, almost as if she was surprised she’d said that out loud. “Never mind. Are they…”
“My father’s out for the evening.”
“Oh, okay. So we don’t have to…”
“No.”
“Right. Good.”
She was dressed in a yellow top and cropped jeans, sandals showing off her bright pink toenails. Her hair was up, just a few little wisps hanging down around her neck. Quite the contrast from the other night, when she’d owned that red dress.
The movers went back out for another load. I decided they didn’t have any more need of me and went into the kitchen to pour myself a drink.
Everly followed me in. “So, are you going to show me around or anything? Do I get the make yourself at home speech?”
“Do you need a speech?”
“I don’t know. It might be nice.”
“You’ve been here before.”
She leaned her hip against the counter. “That’s not really the same. I’ve been here to sign for your deliveries. I’ve never even used one of the bathrooms. How many are there?”
“Four.”
“Wow. I guess that will come in handy, what with all the people living here now.”
I definitely needed the drink. It wasn’t Everly’s attempt at conversation that had me reaching for the bottle of Scotch in the cupboard. Seeing her in my kitchen, dressed in comfortable clothes, was almost as disconcerting as seeing her in that red dress had been.
“Sorry, I guess you don’t want to be bothered. I’ll just go…” She made a vague motion over her shoulder toward the other room.
“You’re not… bothering me.” Why I was suddenly worried about her feelings, I had no idea. But I didn’t want to hurt them. “Let me show you around.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
I went to pour my drink, but paused. “Would you like one?”
“Oh my god, yes.”
Her quick reply almost made me crack a smile. The corner of my mouth twitched. I poured us both a drink and handed one to her.
“Thanks.”
The movers came in, dragging suitcases and another box. How much stuff had she brought? They took it past us, down the hall toward the bedroom.
“Living room,” I said, gesturing. “There’s a TV there. I don’t use it much, but you’re welcome to it. The second master suite is down that hall. My father moved in over the weekend, so he’s occupying that space.”
“Got it.”
I pointed out the other obvious things. Guest bath. My office. Balcony. Then I walked her back to my—what was, for now, our—bedroom.
The movers had put her things in a corner. She stepped inside, shifting on her feet as if nervous.
“So… okay. This is nice.”
My gaze strayed to the bed. I’d toyed with the notion of having her sleep in another room. But if we were going to pretend to be a couple, it was going to require bed sharing.
“We’re both adults, and the bed is a king,” I said, giving her the same speech I’d given myself several times. “There’s another bathroom if you need more privacy. I’ll respect your space; you don’t have to worry about anything.”
“If I was worried about you, I wouldn’t have agreed to this,” she said. “I trust you.”
I wasn’t sure why—any more than I understood why I was concerned about her feelings—but hearing her say she trusted me felt good.
“I guess I’ll let you get settled.”
One of the movers poked his head through the open door. “Miss Dalton?”
She gave him a warm smile. “Jason, I told you, call me Everly.”
“Okay, Everly. Where should we put this?”
From where I was standing, I couldn’t see what he was referring to.
Everly glanced around the room. “Hmm. Not in here. The living room, I think.”
“Sure thing,” he said.
She went out to the other room behind him. I took a sip of my Scotch, then headed for my office. I had work to do. But the sudden laughter from the living room made me curious. What were they laughing about now?
“Dominic, you kill me,” Everly said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
“We got everything,” one of the movers—Dominic, apparently—said. “Is there anything else we can do to help?”
“I think that’s it,” Everly said. “You guys have been so great. Thank you. Bring it in.”
She opened her arms and the two men both hugged her. I watched from the hallway, oddly fascinated. She walked them out and hugged them again, as if they were old friends.
“Well, that’s a wrap.” She shut the door behind them.
I leaned against the wall. “Friends of yours?”
“Who, Dominic and Jason? No. They were just the guys I hired to help. Not that I really needed it. I didn’t bring over anything heavy. Why?”
“It just seemed like you knew them.”
“No, but they were hilarious. Such fun guys.” She glanced around, putting a finger to her lips. “Where did I leave my drink? Oh, there.”
I followed the direction she pointed and a large yellow something—I wasn’t sure what it was—in my living room caught my eye.