Love on the Sound Read online

  Table of Contents

  Love on the Sound

  Copyright

  Trademark

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Love on the Sound

  Lopez Island Series #1

  By Jamie E. Matthews

  Copyright

  Love on the Sound

  Lopez Island Series #1

  Copyright © 2016 by Jamie E. Matthews

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author, Jamie E. Matthews, [email protected].

  The only exception is in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places and events, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design http://www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

  Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  Trademark and Copyright Acknowledgements

  Jamie E. Matthews acknowledges the trademark status of the following trademarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Cards Against Humanity,Dansko, Google, iPhone, Life, M&Ms, McDonalds, Milk Duds, Monopoly, Netflix, Realtor, U-Haul

  Dedication

  To my two little guys, who will someday cringe at the idea of their mother writing romance novels, but for now, think it is super cool. Your wide-eyed wonder inspires me to follow my dreams.

  Chapter 1

  Four years ago

  Kevin was late—again—and Amy gritted her teeth as she slammed the frying pan down onto the burner. She gave the knob a vicious twist and slopped some olive oil into the pan to sauté the shallots and garlic. Her quiet satisfaction in the special dinner—chicken scallopini over a bed of mashed purple heirloom potatoes, with a mixed herb salad—had turned into mild anxiety when Kevin didn’t show up at 6:30 as expected. Now, an hour and two unanswered voicemails later, he still wasn’t home. She was starving, her chicken dry from an hour of sitting in the warm oven, and the potatoes a gooey mess. Her long auburn hair stuck to her flushed face, and she impatiently twisted it up and stabbed a pencil through it to hold it in place.

  Every. Single. Day. She gritted her teeth and tossed the ingredients for the sauce in the pan. Every single day this week he’d worked late. His job at City Hall as Chief of Staff to Mayor Ron Gordman meant unpredictable hours, especially as the Mayor came to value his opinion more and more. And usually, she could accept that, primarily, she realized, because in the past he’d always made a conscious effort to come home on time, or early even, after pulling more than a couple late nights in a row. Tonight, he’d said he’d be home on time. She secretly planned on the fancy dinner—usually she didn’t bother with cooking anything that couldn’t be divided into microwave-ready leftovers—followed up by some quality time together for once, instead of him passing out in front of the TV. They hadn’t played music together all week, and she missed the feel of the strings under her fingers, the way he’d look up from his keyboard and smile when she improvised a really great solo.

  Instead, here she was finishing off the sauce for dinner that she’d waited a freakin’ hour to eat. She added the garlic and splash of white wine. The sharp scent that steamed up made her nauseous, thanks to the tension headache that throbbed at her temples. While the sauce simmered, she pulled out her plate from the oven and considered just throwing Kevin’s into the trash. Asshole. She dumped the sauce over her chicken and slouched down at the kitchen table, absently munching on her salad. The chicken felt like cardboard in her mouth. The flavors were good, but the anger churning in her stomach made it impossible to enjoy the meal.

  Unable to help herself, she reached for her cell phone and checked it for what felt like the thousandth time. Nope, she had not somehow turned the ringer off and missed Kevin’s call. Mechanically, she ate the rest of her meal, and was just getting up to take her plate to the sink when she heard the creaking of the screen door opening, followed by the sound of a key sliding into the lock. She looked at her watch—7:52.

  “Hey, babe,” Kevin called out as he shut the door behind him. “Got your messages just before I left but since I was on my way home figured there was no point in calling. I picked up a burger on the way home, too, so no need to feed…” He walked into the kitchen, his bike helmet swinging in one hand, a fast food paper bag in the other. “Me,” he finished, stopping when he saw Amy’s crossed arms and level stare. He shifted his wire rim glasses, which had steamed up a bit from the cold autumn air when he entered the house and took in the scene.

  “Oh, man.” He set his helmet down on the kitchen table, where, undoubtedly, it would stay until tomorrow morning when he left for work, despite the fact that there was a perfectly good coat rack in the entryway they had bought specifically for all his crap. Amy wanted to scream. “I didn’t know you were making dinner.”

  “The two voicemails I left asking when you were going to be home so I could make dinner didn’t give you a clue?” Amy glared at him.

  He sank into a chair at the kitchen table and took off his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose. Amy didn’t let the dark circles under his tired green eyes dissuade her. If he didn’t work all the damn time, he wouldn’t be so damn tired. “I had Commissioner Prescott jabbering in my ear right after I picked up the voicemails, even though he could clearly see I was on the phone, so I guess I didn’t hear you. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry about what, exactly? Missing dinner, or the fact that you came home tonight nearly two hours later than you said you would? Or the fact that you couldn’t be bothered calling me to tell me that you’d be late? Or the fact that you’ve been late every damn night this week?” Amy heard her voice rise up into a shout on the last sentence. Shit, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t yell, that she would be icy and dignified and take the high road. Fuck the high road.

  “I’m sorry.” Kevin began stripping off his shoes, and Amy quickly glanced away so she wouldn’t get distracted by his stupid muscular calves. Sexy legs be damned, she would not be deterred. “I said I was sorry last night. It’s just that with this initiative going on the ballot in a few months, Gordman needs all hands on deck—”

  “Yes, I know, I know.” Amy threw up her hands. “You explained it all last night. Right after you promised you would be home on time tonight.”

  “It’s beyond my control, okay?” Kevin looked up, ran a hand through his light brown hair so
it stood up in spikes. The gray strands that had started to pop up more often in the past few years stood out in the harsh kitchen light. “I was stuck in a hearing where we took public testimony, and it went longer than we thought it would. Do you think I wanted to be there, listening to all the crazies come in and testify how shitty a job we’re doing? It’s my job, and it's not nine to five like yours.”

  “So now my job is a cakewalk compared to the brain trust you work with at City Hall?”

  “Jesus, Amy. Give me a break. That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it.” His lips compressed into a thin line, a sure sign she was getting to him. “I’ve been up since five this morning, and I just got home. Just…cut me some slack.”

  “That’s your choice,” Amy reminded him. “Your choice to work those hours. What are you going to do when we have kids, and Gordman says he just can’t wait until the next morning for your insightful policy summaries? Who are you going to choose? Because right now, you’re sure as hell not choosing me.” She glanced away, pretended an intense interest in the stove, rather than look at Kevin.

  “How can you say that?” His voice rose. “I’m here now, aren’t I? There are other staffers who are still there, you know. It’s not like I don’t have a shitload of work to do. I chose to come home to you. I wanted to come home to you.”

  She refused to look at him and heard him get up and walk over to her. He tilted her chin so she was forced to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, I really am. I just don’t understand why you’re so upset. No, listen,” he said when she opened her mouth, eyes flashing. “I understand, but I’ve been late before. And, I’ll work late again. You don’t usually get so upset.”

  “You don’t usually work late four nights in a row,” she shot back.

  He sighed and ran his hands up and down her stiff arms. “Are you missing me, my love?”

  “No. Get the hell out of here,” she told him, defiantly tilting her chin, but feeling a smile start to twitch at the corners of her mouth.

  “Because I miss you.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I know I’ve been working a lot, and I swear, it’s not a permanent thing. It’s just really…”

  “Busy, yeah, yeah.” Amy sighed and relaxed a bit against him. It never failed. There was something about his hands, his touch, that soothed her no matter what the situation. It was annoying as hell when she was trying to be angry. “I’m not as mad anymore.”

  “Good.” His arms slid around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

  “But, I’m still mad,” she pointed out. “You’re not off the hook.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re still an asshole. I worked all evening on that dinner.”

  “Tomorrow, I’ll make you dinner,” he said. “How about that?”

  She pulled back, eyeing him suspiciously. “You? Cook?”

  He pretended to be offended. “I can cook.”

  At her doubtful look, he laughed. “Hey, I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve. Got to keep married life fresh, you know.”

  “So you’re really a fabulous chef, you’ve just kept it a secret these past three years?” She arched her eyebrow up at him. “That’s not winning you any points, buddy.”

  “I can boil water. How hard could it be?” He smiled down at her and pulled the pencil out of her hair so it tumbled free. He smoothed the strands off her face. Amy closed her eyes, feeling her headache ease slightly. “The important thing is that I promise to be home on time tomorrow—maybe even early.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she said as he broke away and peered into the oven. “That chicken is pretty dry by now.”

  “I’ll eat it,” he said. “It’s better than the burger, I’m sure. Come on, sit here and tell me about your day.”

  “Then you can do the dishes that are left and cater to my every whim the rest of the evening,” Amy demanded as she took a seat across from him. “That is your punishment.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I’ll cater to your whims, baby.”

  She snorted. “Get real.”

  “Hey.” He spooned up the gloopy mashed potatoes and piled it on top of a bite of chicken. “No make up sex? What gives?”

  She eyed him across the table, noted the way the fatigue etched lines into his face, the slight slump to his shoulders. “You’re too tired, I can tell.” Just like you’ve been the rest of the week, she wanted to add, but bit off the remark. She was, to be fair, exhausted as well. Their fight and the tension of the evening had left her drained.

  “I’m not too tired,” he claimed, trying to give her a seductive look. The effect failed when he had to fight back a yawn. Amy laughed.

  “That’s real convincing. I have a headache anyway,” she said. “But tomorrow…you better be ready for me.”

  “Will you be ready in that little red silk number, perhaps?” he asked hopefully as he scooped up the last bite of potatoes and headed over to the sink to start the dishes.

  “Maybe,” she allowed. “You’re supposed to make it up to me, however, not the other way around.”

  Kevin raised his voice as he turned on the water and began loading the dishes. “So, we’ll watch a little TV when I’m done here, and I’ll rub your temples and neck to help your headache. Then, we’ll cuddle.”

  And, he’ll fall asleep on the couch in half an hour, Amy thought. She forced a smile. “It’s a date. I’ll meet you in the living room.”

  As she curled up on the couch and waited for Kevin to finish, she worried. What if his long hours weren’t temporary? Wasn’t there always something that was urgent, urgent, urgent at City Hall? It was inevitable that someday he’d give into the politics bug and run for office. What then? Sighing, she rested her head against the back of the couch and willed the thoughts away. They would work it out. They always did. And, tomorrow night would be just what they needed. It would be perfect, she vowed.

  ***

  The next morning dawned crisp and clear, a hint of frost on the grass, and the leaves red at the edges. Amy eyed the blue sky and wondered if it would really rain this afternoon like the forecasters were predicting. Then again, it was Oregon in the fall, so chances were good. She packed her rain poncho just in case and wheeled her bike off the porch. They lived in a small Craftsman style bungalow in North Portland, just minutes away from where she worked in the HR department at the global headquarters for Warrior, a women’s athletic apparel company.

  She pedaled her way down the quiet morning street, starting slow and working her way up to nice, solid pace. It felt good to just concentrate on the bike, the rhythm of the pedals, the whoosh of wind at her face. Some of her irritation ebbed, but her thoughts kept circling back to Kevin and their argument. It was the way she felt when she had a dentist appointment—it lingered at the back of her mind, keeping her on edge.

  Early that morning, Gordman called Kevin’s cell not ten minutes after he had finished showering. Groggily, Amy had started to pull the pillow over her ears, but stopped when she heard Kevin. “Got it. 3:00 p.m. How late is it scheduled to go till?”

  He moved into the kitchen, which muffled any further conversation. After she was up, and brushing her teeth, he came into the bathroom to comb his hair and straighten his tie. She waited for him to bring it up, but he didn’t say anything. So then, she’d had to ask what the call was about, feeling like a nagging wife.

  “Just a meeting that we had to set up last minute today with one of the neighborhood associations,” Kevin had said, frowning when he spotted a stain on his tie. “Dammit. I swear I just cleaned this.” He went back into the bedroom, Amy following. She lingered in the doorway.

  “At 3:00 p.m.? Isn’t that kind of late?”

  Kevin poked his head out from the closet and raised an eyebrow. “Amy. I’m not going to work late.”

  Amy sighed. “You know as well as I do that those neighborhood associations go on and on. Look, if you’re going to be late, I’d rather you were just realistic about it instead of prete
nding that it’s not going to run overtime.”

  “I’m not.” Kevin yanked the tie off and began knotting the new one around his neck, his movements jerky. “I told you I’d be home on time tonight. You don’t believe me?”

  “No, I do.” But she couldn’t muster up the proper enthusiasm in her voice and sure enough, she heard Kevin swear under his breath when she turned to go back into the bathroom.

  He poked his head into the shower a few minutes later, where she was working shampoo into her hair. “I’ll see you tonight. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She closed her eyes under the pretext of washing the soap away from her face, but really so that he wouldn’t see the irritation that no doubt lurked there.

  “Amy.”

  “You’re letting the cold air in,” she pointed out, turning to look at where he stood, holding the curtain open.

  “I told Gordman I had to be home by 5,” he persisted.

  She sighed. “Good. I’ll see you then. It’s okay,” she said when he kept standing there. “You said you’d be home, and you will. I’m just…not awake yet. You know how I am in the morning.”

  She’d said she believed him, and she did...but there was a part of her that didn’t, that thought he’d come home late, once again. And, she knew he could tell, because he gave her a quick peck on the cheek when normally he would have grabbed her wet hair and pulled her in for a real kiss, water and all. And, she let him leave without stopping him.

  She should have stopped him, she thought as the Warrior campus came into view, silhouetted against the sky, overlooking the bluffs. Now she’d be off the whole day, because they were off. She coasted into the parking garage and over to the bike racks where there was already a small army of bikes chained up. They were not the only Portlanders who were bike fanatics.

  Outside, she craned her neck out of habit and looked up at the employee fitness center, which was positioned one level up and to the left of the parking garage. Sure enough, Cerie was sweating away at a treadmill positioned in front of one of the huge, floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the street. Her bright purple workout suit made her easy to spot. Cerie looked down and waved, and Amy waved back, thinking that her life had become just a little bit too routine when her co-worker could spot her crossing the street at the exact same time every morning.