“Hi, Adam,” Mrs. Schiller called cheerfully.
Adam looked up from where he sat on a stool with his guitar resting across his knee. He smiled easily when he saw them. “Morning, ladies. There’s fresh coffee on.”
“I’d rather get a Seven-Up, dear.” Mrs. Schiller moved toward the bar. “But I’ll pour for everybody else.”
Adam’s gaze shifted to Bianca. “You joined this group?”
“I was kind of swept along by it,” she admitted honestly, still feeling a little stunned by the entire procession. “I’d love water and will come help you, Mrs. Shiller.”
“Nope.” Mrs. Schiller waved her away. “You sit down.”
Bianca blinked. What exactly was happening here?
“Hi, Adam,” Joan said with a wink.
“Hi, Joan,” Adam replied. “How are you?”
A small, completely irrational flicker of jealousy sparked inside Bianca’s chest.
Joan was beautiful. Probably a few years older than Bianca, but confident and polished in a way that suggested she knew exactly how attractive she was. And she looked at Adam like he was dessert.
“Sit here,” Mrs. Poppins said, pulling out a chair for Bianca.
Bianca sat down automatically.
Mrs. Schiller soon returned with drinks and placed a glass in front of her.
Bianca glanced toward Adam, confused.
He just grinned.
“It’s our own little show,” Mrs. Poppins explained. “He tunes up and practices. Sometimes Dawn joins him.”
“Is Dawn coming today?” Mrs. Hudson asked.
Adam’s hand rested lightly on the wood. “No. You might want to stay away from the Lodge-Freeze crew. I heard they all have the flu.”
“Yes, I heard that too,” Joan said. “It’s a pity. When it goes through that family, it goes through everybody except Quinn.” She licked her lips thoughtfully.
Mrs. Hudson pushed her shoulder. “Knock it off, Joan. He and Juliet are happily married.”
“For now,” Joan said lightly.
“They’ll last forever. Those two are still making googly eyes at each other,” Mrs. Hudson replied firmly. “And you stay away from my Henry.”
Bianca took a sip of her drink, still trying to understand what exactly she’d been pulled into. The strange card in her pocket felt heavy, but she wasn’t sharing it with this group.
“Are you working on anything new?” Mrs. Hudson asked Adam.
“Yeah.” He adjusted the guitar in his lap and strummed a chord. “How’s this?”
The notes rolled softly through the quiet bar, warm and steady. Within a few minutes he began to sing, his voice low and easy as the melody unfolded. The song drifted through the room, carrying words about rivers and valleys and wide Montana skies stretching over mountains.
Bianca’s mouth dropped open.
He was incredible. And sexy. His voice rolled through the quiet bar, dark and husky, and he looked completely relaxed while he played. One boot rested on the rung of the stool, his shoulders loose, fingers moving easily across the strings. The music filled the room in a warm, steady rhythm that seemed to belong there.
Bianca turned toward Mrs. Hudson. “Do you do this every day?”