Take that P. M. L., he thought to himself. He had a woman to love now. Anything was possible.

Suddenly his mind was filled with the thoughts of giving Brad Paisley and Tim McGraw a run for their money. He couldn’t wait to perform on Sunday. He was going to knock someone’s socks off. There was always someone in the crowd.

***

Clara arrived at the theater early. Her Starbucks coffee was a venti and her sugar fix was in a bag.

“You’re here early,” Arianna said as Clara set her bag on the table in the office.

“Felt like getting a start to my day.”

Her aunt watched her dissect her coffee cake, breaking it into four pieces and setting it out on a napkin.

“You and Warner spent the night together, didn’t you?”

Clara felt the heat in her cheeks. “Why do you say that?”

“You have that satisfied look about you.”

“Not what I want to talk to my aunt about.”

Arianna laughed. “You’re in your thirties. I get to talk to you like a woman.”

Clara dropped her shoulders. “I love him. I have fallen madly in love with this guy who a week ago chased me down.”

“You’re a Keller. I’ve seen romance blossom quickly and all sorts of things happen.”

That was true enough. Zach and Regan met when she fell in his lap on the bus. Curtis met Simone at Clara’s father’s wedding to Kathy and they had a weekend and ended up pregnant. Darcy and Ed met and were engaged within months. No one was going to be surprised that she’d fallen in love with the musical misfit.

“I asked him to move in with me.” The moment she said it she realized she should have asked her aunt first.

Arianna nodded slowly. “With Tyler gone I guess the house is a little more quiet.”

“Right. And Chris’s house is almost done.”

“Of course.” Arianna’s lips pursed. “John said you turned the bedroom in the basement into a recording studio?”

“Only for the moment. If you get a renter we take down the carpets.” God, she’d really screwed up. She could see it in Arianna’s eyes.

“Right. But for now you could record and try and sell his songs?”

“That’s the plan.” Clara lifted her mocha to her lips and took a big sip.

“You sounded really good the other night. You sure you don’t have it in you to just be a performer?”

She choked on the flavor and her aunts words. “That wasn’t the deal. I told him I’d help him.”

“And Randy’s been telling you for years that you have what it takes.”

“Well, yeah…”

“And this guy has the talent to write anything.”

Clara thought about the song he’d written just yesterday. The melody had played in her head all night long and she knew that together they could make it amazing.

She sipped her drink again. God, was this what she really wanted? She’d been performing since she was thirteen. There was a certain adrenaline that pumped through her when she performed. The other night when she performed Warner’s song that feeling was even stronger.

“Think about it, Clara,” her aunt said. “You’ve already decided not to take on any more roles right now. Maria was a great success for you, but you’re too old for her now.”

That hurt. But it was true. Her co-star who played Tony was only twenty.

Clara pulled a chair up to the table and sat down. Warner had been so gentle with her all night that she knew her heart would break if he ever left. She’d fallen for him hard and if she could have it her way she’d keep him forever.

But would he stay—especially if she changed her mind on performing?

Randy would be ecstatic. He’d wanted her to perform more than she had. But what happened if she got signed? What would happen if she didn’t?

Oh, all of this was stupid. She took a bite out of her coffee cake. Clara Keller was perfectly happy singing backup for Randy, directing the shows at her aunt’s theater, and recording demos for Warner so he could sell his songs.

As far as she was concerned she’d won the lottery. Not only did she have all these great things going for her, but the man she loved was at that moment packing up his life and moving in with her.

Enough crazy talk about her performing with intent to sign with a label—though that wasn’t what Arianna had said, but it was what Clara had heard.

Clara finished her drink and popped the last of the coffee cake in her mouth. In a few hours she’d be Maria again and that was where her focus had to be.

But as she stood and tossed her bag and cup in the trash she did think that opening up for Miranda Lambert would be an ideal job.

She shook her head. Lord, she’d lost her mind.

***

There hadn’t been much left to pack into Warner’s truck. He’d called in help from a friend to load his couch and bed. All it would cost him was a beer. That was easy enough. He had one more stop to make before he headed home to Clara.

Patty Little needed a word.

Patricia Little’s exclusive neighborhood was gated. Enough rage ran through Warner that he had considered ramming the gate with his truck.

A uniformed man stepped out of the small guards’ house as Warner pulled up. He gave the beat up pickup truck full of used furniture a once over before walking to the window.

“Mornin’, how can I help ya?”

Warner smiled kindly and said, “Patricia Little please.”

The guard nodded slowly. “She expectin’ you?”

“I assume at some point she is. The name is Warner Wright.”

The guard nodded again and went back into the guards’ house, lifted the receiver to a phone, and began to talk. He was just out of ear shot for Warner to hear him, but he knew he’d been given the go ahead. A moment later the gate swung open and Warner drove through on his way to the house of the Devil.

The house was beautiful. Warner’s dad would have enjoyed the nice yard—had he not felt the need to end his life because the witch had run off with everything the man had.

A black Mercedes was parked in front of the house and Patricia’s white Lexus was in the driveway.

Warner parked his ugly truck right in front of her house, big as day. Maybe someone would think she was slumming if they looked out their front window. After all, all that nasty furniture and boxes in the back of his truck it was possible some old, rich, woman would have a heart attack thinking the neighborhood was going down.