Hot Rock Page 3

  “Get rid of it, and don’t ever mention it again.” He’d glared at her and wasn’t aware he’d grabbed her arm until Slim came over and pulled her away from him. David dropped the torn pages onto the floor and kicked at them. “For Christ’s sake. Emma died, and all you can say is that it will pull the fucking crowds in?”

  Holly had scurried away across the stage. “It was eleven months ago.” She’d looked at him defiantly as she stood at a safe distance, behind Bear and his drums. “Get over it. And all publicity is good. You want to make the big time or not?”

  “I don’t care if it was twenty years ago. I wasn’t there, and this bloody newspaper makes it sound as though I put the needle in Emma’s arm.”

  And not only that, it’d made it sound as though they’d been living together in some drug den. He still didn’t know what had happened that night. He’d been at the studio finishing off the first album with Bear and Slim, the one that had taken off after they’d gotten together at last year’s festival. Emma had gone out with her friends and the first he’d heard of any drug taking was from the police, when they’d turned up and searched his tiny flat in London.

  He didn’t do drugs. And after Emma had died he’d immersed himself in the tour.

  David moved across to the kitchen window and tipped his coffee dregs into the sink. A movement next door caught his attention. His new neighbor was wandering around in her back garden. He’d dreamed about her all night. He’d been so wired, he’d gotten up early to do some writing. Rose-red lips, jet-black hair, and a body begging to be loved; it was as if she’d bewitched him. The crazy dreams had stayed with him after he had woken up, dreams of touching her and his hands overflowing with her tears even as he held her breasts. She’d stared deep into his eyes and he’d felt as though his soul had been exposed to her. He’d still been thinking about her when she’d appeared on his porch this morning.

  But she’d come back over to get her bag, not to connect with him. He’d forgotten all about it, or he would have put it on her porch last night. He’d gotten a jolt in his chest when he’d heard her out there. Despite the crumpled shirt and jeans she looked like something out of a fairy tale. All that tumbling hair and those bright-red lips.

  And she had attitude.

  It was a shame he wasn’t interested. He frowned and shook his head.

  I’m not.

  After he’d strummed his guitar softly in the early hours, new words and notes had poured out of him and he’d written a great new song. The only reason he was unsettled was because the memories of Emma had come racing back last night, nothing to do with his next-door neighbor. But to stay safe, he’d ignore her presence next door. His cottage had been private for the past few years; the one she was in wasn’t rented very often and the owners never came near it.

  The phone rang and pulled him out of his thoughts.

  Clive, his banker, greeted him and he moved back to the window and watched the girl as she stood in the backyard. She stared out across the fields, sipping from the mug he had handed her. He realized he didn’t even know her name, but damn it, he was intrigued. Despite his best intentions, he reached down and adjusted his pants, which were straining across an unwelcome erection. It was the dreams that were getting him wound up, not her.

  “David, are you listening to me?”

  “Yeah, I’m listening.”

  “You’re going to have to come to the city today and sign some papers.”

  “I can’t. Rehearsal got messed up yesterday. I can’t come to London until after the festival.”

  He leaned his head on the window and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

  Why was life so bloody complicated?

  “If you can’t come to London, I’ll meet you halfway. Or better still, I can try to get the documents expressed to a bank down where you are.”

  “Send them to Taunton. I’ll drive across first thing in the morning. What’s so hell-fired urgent, Clive?”

  “The latest transfer to the Caymans. There’s a new condition you have to initial before we can transfer the funds. I can’t do it for you.”

  David sighed. “All right. If you can’t get it there by tomorrow, make sure you let me know. I don’t want to make a trip for nothing. We’re bloody short of time.”

  “Yes, and I know what a perfectionist you are.” Clive ended the call and David glanced out the window again, but she was gone.

  It was time to head across to the farm for rehearsal. He’d spent more than enough time mooning around like a lovesick teenager.

  ###

  Five minutes later, David had thrown on a T-shirt and grabbed his guitar. He opened the back gate, ignoring the woman who was now sitting in an alcove at the back of the cottage next door.

  Shit. One of the reasons he stayed in this place for the festival was because it was so isolated. He could come and go as he pleased without being seen. If she made a habit of sitting there, he was going to have to be very careful.

  Taking a different path than usual, he crossed the newly mown grass and walked along the path to the River Brue, before doubling back to the intersection of the ley lines to find the time gate. The houses were in the distance and he raised one hand to shade his eyes and see if she was watching, but there was no sign of her. Finding the stone markers, he stepped to the line, and closed his eyes as the air shimmered around him.

  …

  Megan had tried to call Tony as soon as she woke up, before it was too late at night back home in Australia, but her phone had gone dead. She’d tried to charge it but she’d forgotten all about the different power outlets here. Hopefully, it wasn’t too far to the village because she’d need to buy an adapter. While she was there she would try to find a computer to check her e-mail because her laptop didn’t work either.

  After she placed her suitcase inside the front door, she wandered out back with her coffee and found a lovely little nook covered in a vine with pretty pink flowers spilling along the back of the cottage. A small table and chairs were tucked into the sunny corner. She looked around with surprise. For a house that no one lived in, the garden was neat and tidy and the grass was clipped. The roses along the fence needed deadheading, but apart from that, the backyard was pretty.

  With a quick brush of the dead leaves off the table, she settled down to a lovely view of the grassy fields. The fragrance of the roses and violets overlaid the aroma of the coffee and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Truly a beautiful place.

  Soothing for my soul.

  It was much needed and she was so grateful to Beth’s family for letting her stay here for the duration of her visit. And even the Davy Morgan look-alike next door had shown some manners this morning.

  Until he’d slammed the door in my face.

  She tipped her head back to the bright morning sun. Nothing seemed as bad as it had last night. A good night’s sleep, despite being filled with bizarre dreams about a rock star with long black curls and deep blue eyes, had left her refreshed and with a strange warmth low in her belly. As she sat out in the fresh clean air, a feeling of peace stole over her. The sound of a lone tractor winding up and down around the field between her and the village was the only sound, apart from the birds. Glancing at her watch, she was taken aback to see it was almost noon. She was going to have to walk into Glastonbury to get the power adapter and some food, and find a plumber to sort this lack of water out. Leaning forward, she tipped the coffee dregs into the garden and a movement at the back of the cottage next door caught her attention. A tall dark figure slipped through the fence and walked across the field, with a guitar slung casually over his shoulder. The sun glinted off his jet-black hair and he glanced across but didn’t even acknowledge her with a wave.

  Megan looked away and ignored him, and by the time she glanced back through the kitchen window as she put the mug in the sink, he had disappeared.

  Fine. He’d kindly given her coffee but she’d ignore him from now on. If he wanted to be as rude and obno
xious as he’d been last night, she wanted nothing more to do with him. She might see him playing at the festival. As soon as she got to a computer, she’d Google him. As far as she knew, she’d never seen a mention of him in the lineup of bands. She knew her music inside out, but she’d never heard of Davy Morgan having a nephew who was well known enough to play at Glastonbury. And as far as she knew, her Davy Morgan, the idol of her teenage years, was still alive and had retired to the Cayman Islands.

  “Sorry, love. No Wi-Fi, no phone, and cell service is spotty.” The grooves on either side of the woman’s mouth deepened as she frowned. “The magnetics have been on the rise more than usual this year. It’s the summer solstice coming on.”

  Megan shook her head, not having a clue of what the crazy woman in the village shop was talking about. Clad in a bright-purple apron and bright-green leggings, with her steel-gray hair scraped back into a severe bun, she had been talking nonstop since Megan stepped into the dingy shop. All she wanted to do was call or e-mail Beth and Tony, and let them know she was settled in the cottage and to find out any more news about her suspension.

  “What do you mean, the magnetics?”

  The woman shook her arms and a jangle of colored plastic bracelets clattered together on her wrists.

  “The lines? Ye’ve not heard of the lines?” She leaned her arms on the counter of the dark, cluttered store.

  Megan shook her head again. “No.”

  “The ley lines are the connections between the ancient monuments.” She looked at Megan as though she was the crazy one. “When the summer and winter solstices arrive each year, they play havoc with everything. Phone, Internet, water.”

  The shopkeeper wrapped up the packet of coffee, the bottle of milk, and the fruit Megan had brought to the counter before placing it all in a brown paper bag along with the can of soup she’d picked up for her dinner.

  “Do you sell power adapters here?”

  “No, love. You’ll have to go into Taunton for that.” The woman looked curiously at her as she passed her the groceries. “Just here for the festival, are you?” she asked.

  “Yes, I am.” Megan handed over some money.

  “Are you staying in the pub or camping out at the farm?”

  “I’m staying at the McLaren cottage.”

  The woman passed the package across the counter. “Say hello to Alice for me if you see her.”

  Megan stared at her in confusion. “I thought she died?”

  The woman nodded. “Yes, a few winters back. But she loved her little cottage and she’s been seen there a few times since she passed.”

  Megan gripped the bag of groceries and headed through the dim shop toward the door. It looked as though she wasn’t going to get a sensible conversation in here, but the woman kept talking as she came from behind the counter and followed Megan to the door.

  “Well, you watch yourself getting to the festival. Make sure you take the road. Don’t go crossing those fields. There are mounds and marker stones scattered all the way between Alice’s cottage and the Pilton farm.” She followed Megan past the crowded shelves. “If you’re not careful, dear, you’re likely to find yourself in another time. A lot of people have gone missing at this time of the year. Who knows where they’ve ended up?”

  The woman walked across to the shelf, shaking her head and muttering, as Megan headed for the door, and sunshine, and sanity.

  Haunted cottages and ending up in another time? Crazy woman.

  Surely there was a post office in this little village. Or maybe the pub had a Wi-Fi connection?

  “Oh, and dear?” The querulous old voice followed her to the door and she paused.

  “How’s your water?”

  “My water?”

  What the hell is she talking about?

  “Is the water still working in Alice’s cottage?”

  “Ah, no. There must be something wrong with the pipes.”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll come back on after the solstice. It’s all the witching rods they’re using down at the festival looking for the springs. In the meantime, you’d better buy up on the bottled water.” The woman bustled back around the counter and reached beneath and followed Megan outside. “Here’s a couple of bottles to keep you going. I’ll get Ned to drop a water container off when he comes back from his deliveries, so you can bathe.”

  Megan reached into her purse but the woman shook her head

  “No worries. If you are staying in Alice’s cottage, I’ll add it to the account and you can settle up when you go. Now you take good care, dear, and heed my words. I heard they found the spring at the farm for this newfangled stage and everyone on the southern line lost their water.”

  Megan forced a smile onto her face as she backed out of the store. “Thank you, I will.” She couldn’t get out of there quick enough.

  Crazy woman.

  She’d go find some lunch and ask where she could find a plumber to sort out the water problem.

  There was no sign of a post office, but a whitewashed pub was located on the other side of the village green. Megan wanted to pinch herself. This quaint English village was just as she’d imagined it would be. A couple of white geese wandered across the street, honking as they headed to the small brook running behind the shops. She pushed open the door of the old tavern building and was relieved to see it full of young people in casual clothes. After ordering her lunch, she picked up a drink from the bar and headed out the back toward the last vacant table. There was no sign of a computer or even a public phone, and thoughts of her job began to crowd into her head as the worry of not being able to contact home tugged at her.

  She put her head back and closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she focused on the warmth of the sun on her skin, letting her mind drift to that place deep inside where she could ignore the problems waiting for her at home.

  Focus on the job at hand. Deep breathing.

  The warmth on her shoulders suddenly increased, and she opened her eyes to a pair of deep blue eyes staring down at her.

  Turning her groan into a cough, she stared back at him.

  “Well?” David said. The look on her neighbor’s face indicated he expected some sort of an answer. She shrugged her shoulder and pushed away his hand but the pleasant warmth lingered even after his hands were back by his side.

  “Well, what?” she asked primly.

  “Can we share your table?”

  Megan glanced behind him. Two other men who were engaged in a heated conversation were obviously the “we” he referred to.

  “It’s a big table for one person and the pub is packed. Unless you’re expecting company?”

  She moved down on the bench and shook her head. “No, go ahead. I’m just having lunch and then you can have the table to yourselves.”

  “Don’t rush on our account, love.” The big man standing behind David slid onto the bench opposite her and held a beefy hand out. “Davy said you’re his new neighbor, so we didn’t think you’d mind us asking to share your table. Any friend of Davy is a friend of the band’s.”

  Megan reached over and took the proffered hand as the guy kept talking. “I’m Bear and this is Slim. We play backup for Davy, here. Stage isn’t ready so we came to grab a bite before we start rehearsal this afternoon.” A tall guy with shoulder-length hair in a black T-shirt gave her a wave from the other end of the table. A frisson of familiarity ran through her.

  Bear and Slim? She knew those names from somewhere. She racked her brain but couldn’t remember where. Maybe their names were on the program she’d read for the festival?

  Holding her breath, she glanced to the side as her neighbor from next door slid onto the bench beside her. He looked at her without smiling and her breath caught. The uncanny resemblance to his uncle was striking and she felt like a starstruck teenager with her mouth gaping open.

  “All settled in?”

  “Almost.” She turned away from him and tried to gather her composure. “I just need to get the water turned
on and find a Wi-Fi connection.”

  Bear threw his head back and laughed. “Good luck, sweets. Everything’s haywire here at the moment.”

  David frowned at him and interjected. “Yes, a cable must have been cut when they were setting up the festival. Wi-Fi seems to be down all around the district.”

  She looked at him curiously. “Do you live here all the time or are you on holiday?”

  “I live here some of the time. Why?”

  “I was wondering if you could recommend a plumber. There seems to be no water at the cottage.”

  “No, I couldn’t.” His voice was terse and he obviously didn’t want to talk to her. Megan moved her leg away, trying to ignore the warmth of his jean-clad thigh pressing against hers.

  Moody bastard. If he couldn’t be civil, he could go find another table.

  While he stared away in the distance, the other two men engaged her in conversation for a few minutes before all of their meals arrived at the same time.

  Damn…it looked as though she’d have to stay and be polite for a while. The last thing she wanted to do was be sociable.

  “So you’re here for the festival?” Bear looked at her across his bowl of chips and she was aware of David pausing, as she answered.

  “Yes, I’m here to do some research for my thesis,” she replied.

  “We can get you some backstage passes if you want.” Bear winked at her and took a swig of his second pint of beer.

  “No, thank you. Mr. Morgan here has already made me a few offers, which I’ve rejected.”

  Bear slapped his thigh and his booming laugh sounded around the garden, and a few heads turned. “Was he rude to you? He tries to keep this bad-boy rock star thing going.”

  Megan looked at David to gauge his mood but his expression was inscrutable. “Let’s just say, I know that David doesn’t like having neighbors.”

  “Well, that’s because—”

  “Bear.” David’s voice was clipped and the other man stopped talking immediately.

  After a moment, he muttered into his beer. “Sorry. Forgot when we were.”