Page 62 of The Perfect Melody
I shrug. “Depends on how long I stay, I guess. He and his girlfriend loved it here, so I’m sure they’d be happy to have an excuse to come back if I decide to stick around.”
Austin’s steps falter. “You’re thinking of staying? Beyond the summer?”
Feeling his gaze boring into the side of my head, I risk looking up at him. When I almost stumble thanks to a stray rock,I quickly refocus on the path ahead. The intensity in his emerald eyes is too much to bear. Why does he care so much about my answer? Is it possible that Austin didn’t turn me down because he wasn’t interested but because he thought I’d be leaving in a couple of months?
“I haven’t decided yet, but it’s on the table. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t expect to keep working at Bowman’s—I know you only wanted the extra help to get you through the busy season.”
“Right. Yeah, that’s good,” he replies absentmindedly, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “You really like it here that much?” Austin asks, still hung up on the possibility of me staying.
“I do. It’s beautiful here, and I’ve made some real friends. I think I’m even growing on my grumpy boss,” I tease, lightly bumping my shoulder against his arm.
“We could—” he coughs nervously. “I could probably keep you on at Bowman’s—if you want.”
“And here I was thinking you’d be eager to get rid of me.”
“Maybe I’ve realised how much I like having you around.”
“It’s about time,” I quip, refusing to show how much Austin’s words have affected me. Has it really been so long since someone showed me genuine affection that I’m getting flustered over the simple admission that Austin can tolerate my presence?God, I’m pathetic.
Ignoring the way my pulse has sped up, I continue, “You should plan for me to leave Bowman’s either way. I appreciate you giving me a job for the summer, but even if I decide to stay here, I won’t stay on at the bar.”
“You don’t like working there?” He’s doing his best to conceal it, but I can hear the hurt in his voice over the soft thud of our footsteps on the dirt path.
“It’s not that—Bowman’s is great.” Austin’s guarded expression tells me I’ll need to give him more than that ifI’m going to convince him. “Before coming here, I was… self-employed. I needed a break and wasn’t sure I’d go back to what I was doing or if I’d shift career paths. Working for you while I figure out what I want to do next is perfect, but Bowman’s isn’t the place for me long term.”
“Your CV didn’t mention that you were self-employed.”
A light gust of wind ruffles the strands of my hair as I scramble for an explanation. “I was worried you’d think I wouldn’t want to work in a bar if you knew what my real job is.”
He mulls that over. “That’s understandable. Some of Mum’s friends had that issue when they wanted to switch to being semi-retired. A lot of them struggled in interviews for part-time positions because people said they were overqualified.” We walk in silence for a few more paces. “So, whatdoyou do?”
“I’m in the entertainment industry,” I reply, intentionally keeping it vague and hoping he’s satisfied enough not to ask questions.
Austin’s brows wing up in surprise. “So that’s what you meant when you said you’ve been around a lot of musicians. Are you an agent or something?”
“Or something.” Not wanting to lie outright to him more than I already have, I change the subject to ask about what book he ended up getting for his nephew.
We continue the walk back towards town together, talking about Austin’s plans for Bowman’s. He asks what I’ve been getting up to outside of work, and I tell him about my cross-stitching obsession and the few places I’ve explored so far. When he asks questions about my life, I’m careful to keep my answers light and vague. When Miranda had me put through media training I never imagined I’d end up using what I learned in my personal life, but now I’m glad to have the skills to fall back on. Without all the practice I’ve had navigating interviews over the years, this balancing act of getting to know someone and lettingthem learn more about me while keeping my secret safe would be impossible.
We’re still a few miles from town when the first fat raindrops fall from the sky. We quicken our pace, but the rain only comes faster.
“Shit, I should have asked Mum if you could borrow one of her coats,” Austin says, eyeing my sweatshirt with regret.
“I could have asked one of the girls, but I thought I’d be fine. The forecast said it was supposed to stay dry until later.” I shiver, the rain rapidly soaking through the fabric of my sweatshirt.
“Take mine.” Austin hastily unzips his navy waterproof, ready to sacrifice his comfort for mine, but I halt him with a hand on his arm.
“Don’t.” I gesture at my torso. “I’m already soaked. There’s no need for you to get wet too.”
His lips flatten into a thin line of displeasure. “At least take my hat. It’ll be too big, but it should help keep the rain off your face.”
Our fingers brush as he hands it over, sending a flicker of warmth through my rain-chilled form. “Thanks.”
He was right—the hat is too big—but the brim keeps the rain from running into my eyes. “We’re not too far from town now, right?” I ask hopefully, raising my voice to be heard over the rain hammering down around us.
Austin’s grimace is obvious, even from beneath the hood of his coat. “We’re still about three miles out.” His expression brightens with an idea. “There’s an old-fashioned bus shelter not too much further along the road. We can wait out the rain there until it calms down.”
“I’m sold. Lead the way.”
