Free Frost on My Window by Angela Weaver Page A

I’m busted, I’ll admit I liked it. But it was only that one track.”
    “Your secret’s safe with me,” Traxx promised.
    I heard Rena let out a yawn. “Sorry,” she said.
    “No. It’s late and I’d better leave. Thanks for a great evening, Rena.”
    “You’re welcome…Trey.”
    “Could you let Leah know I had a good time?”
    “Of course, that is, if that sleepyhead cousin of mine ever wakes up.”
    I strained to listen as they moved towards the door.
    “So will I see you this week?” he asked.
    “I’ll be around the office,” Rena replied. “Drop by and say hello.”
    “Are you on the same floor as Damon? I’ve never seen you in the hallway.”
    “One floor up. I’m on twenty-eight,” she said.
    “Twenty-eight, huh?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay, so can I take you to lunch sometime?”
    “We’ll see,” Rena answered evasively.
    “All right, then. Good night, Rena.”
    “Night, Trey. Take care.”
    I opened my eyes as soon as the door closed. “Night, Trey,” I mimicked in a deep, sultry voice.
    “I knew your behind was faking,” Rena laughed.
    I stood up and stretched. “My work here is done.”
    “Don’t be getting any ideas, cuz.”
    “Of course not,” I lied and bent to pick up Simba. Winking at the cat, I beamed at a frowning Rena just before turning and heading to my room.
    * * *
    I woke to the sound of the phone ringing. Reaching over I picked up the receiver and opened my eyes to look at the clock. Eleven a.m. So much for getting up early. Rolling over, I put the phone to my ear and closed my eyes, expecting to hear my mother’s voice.
    “Hello?” I grumbled sleepily.
    “Leah…”
    My eyes shot open and I sat up. “Sean, how are you?”
    “I’m okay. Getting some rest before the next show.”
    “So where are you?” I had a flyer he had given me before leaving. It was probably nestled in a purse somewhere in my closet.
    “Miami.”
    “Ahh…” I smiled and closed my eyes.
    “Now what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
    I knew at that moment he was smiling. Lounging alone on some plush white leather coach in some ultra-trendy resort hotel, Sean was guaranteed to be watching Saturday morning cartoons.
    “Nothing. I don’t think that you could have picked a better place to rest. So have you checked out South Beach?”
    Sean fit right in with the beautiful people. Only he wouldn’t hang out amongst the rich, famous, and party addicted. The charming bad boy of alternative rock always went his own way. The jet set world had never interested him, but the dark hidden places in the human heart would always send him to some quiet place to write.
    “It’s beautiful near the water, but right now I wouldn’t mind being in Arizona. Anyway, how are you?”
    “Hot. The city’s battling another heat wave,” I explained.
    “How long?” His concern came through the phone line. My heart jumped a little. This was my little secret, the small treasured thing held close. Singer Sean Andrews of Exile cared. I switched the phone to my right ear and sat up.
    “It’s been two days. The weatherman says we’ll get some relief tomorrow night.”
    “Good. So are you liking the big city?”
    I leaned against the headboard, resting my head against the wall. “It’s wonderful. This place is exciting, lots of different people, hundreds of things to do. I really want to give New York a chance.”
    “But there’s something missing?”
    Damn, the man was perceptive.
    “I miss the quiet sometimes. The open spaces and the sky. There’s nothing like the Los Angeles skyline after a long, hard rain. I don’t miss the traffic, though. I think everybody should have a chance to take a break from driving.”
    “I know how you feel. I won’t miss being on the road day after day.”
    “How much longer are you going to be on tour?” I asked.
    “Just one more month.”
    “Any plans for afterwards?”
    “I’ll take a few weeks and go out west. Spend some time at the ranch. Then I think