Music & Lyrics Read online

  Music & Lyrics (The Wilder Books #4)

  Savannah Kade

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  Published by Griffyn Ink

  www.griffynink.com

  Copyright © 2016 Griffyn Ink

  All rights reserved.

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  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.

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  For ordering information or special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Griffyn Ink at [email protected].

  Contents

  Join Savannah

  Also by Savannah Kade

  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

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Afterword

  Preview of Perfect (Breathless, GA - Book 1)

  About the Author

  Never miss a sale or a free book! Keep up with Savannah HERE.

  Novels by Savannah Kade:

  The WILDER Books:

  Our Song

  Heartstrings

  Love Notes

  Music & Lyrics

  The Wilder Complete Book Set

  That Night in Nashville

  Georgia Grace

  The TOUCH OF MAGICK Series:

  WishCraft

  DreamWalker

  LoveSpelled

  SoulFire

  ShadowKiss

  The Touch of Magick Series: Complete Set

  The AGAINST ALL ODDS Series:

  Steal My Heart

  Call Me Yours

  Ask Me to Stay

  Promise Me Always

  Against All Odds Complete Set

  The BREATHLESS Series:

  Gifted

  Perfect

  Ruined

  Rebel

  Lucky

  Charmed

  Saved

  Dreamer

  The DARK FALLS Series

  Dark Falls - Lori Ryan

  Dark Secrets - Savannah Kade

  Dark Legacy - Trish McCallan

  Dark Nightmares - Becca Jameson

  Dark Terror - Sandra Owens

  Dark Burning - Lori Ryan

  Dark Echoes - Savannah Kade

  Dark Memories - Sandra Owens

  Dark Rage - Becca Jameson

  Dark Tidings - Trish McCallan

  Dark Obsession - Lisa-Marie Cabrelli

  Dark Passion - Lori Ryan

  For Dana and Julie and Eli, my sisters in arms. Thank you for bringing this series to life!

  Chapter 1

  Alex was sitting on his couch with a beer when the woman went stomping past him. She didn't say a word. She didn't have to, her face said it for her.

  Her orange hair was scraped back into a tight knot, and her sensible shoes shook the floor as she went by. She was done. He'd seen that expression before. Hadn't he just been trying to ignore the yelling coming from the other room himself? Of course she'd had enough. It was really a miracle she'd lasted this long.

  She came back into the room, luggage packed and in hand.

  Well, shit. She'd been ready, he realized. Still, he listened to her words.

  "Mr. Beaumont, I'm resigning my position here." She handed over a typed and signed paper. It wasn't dated, so she hadn't known she was leaving today. As he scanned it, he saw the words even as she spoke them. "Effective immediately."

  By the time he looked up, she was already gone from the room. Then he heard the back door slapping shut behind her. Not that it was a good sound, but it was far better than the discordant yells coming from Sophie's room. That awful sound was probably the worst thing a musician could hear.

  He tipped his head back and poured in the beer as though it would seep in and fill all the cracks in his life. It didn't, but the slight buzz of the expensive, local beer made him feel just a little like it did.

  It worked, too, until the yelling went quiet and he sat sharply upright at the sign of impending doom. There was no telling what Sophie was up to when she was quiet. But he sat still as though he would hear something, or a crash would come, or maybe she would say something.

  The last one was never going to happen. Well, not in the lifetime that he could foresee. Probably the reason for the beer. Nothing filled the cracks of failure like a good cold one.

  For so long, things had been fine. Golden even. He toured, his wife ran the show here, his daughter was perfect, and things were great. It had all gone to hell one unknowing step at a time. Just one day he woke up and everything was wrong. He could see the path he'd taken to get here, but he hadn't seen it when he'd been walking it. Now he was stuck between the worst options a father could have.

  Then Olivia stuck her head into the living room. "Daddy?"

  Her voice was sweet, the tones dulcet, her smile soft. She was his perfect girl. "What baby?"

  "You need to get Sophie." She began to frown, her lips pressing together.

  He nodded and stood up, only then realizing the beer had been a little more potent than he'd figured. He shouldn't have drunk it all. Then again, he couldn't have predicted that Mrs. . . . Mrs. . . .

  Shit. Her name wouldn't come to him. Then again, did it matter? The woman had quit. That's what he couldn't have predicted.

  But if he'd been a little more sober, a little more on the ball, a little better of a parent, he would have seen it coming. She wasn’t the first one to leave. She wasn't even the first one to stomp out with no notice.

  Then again, if he'd been a better parent, they probably wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place. Maybe it was Bridget's fault. He liked to believe that was possible.

  Perfect Alex and Perfect Bridget had made Perfect Olivia.

  Then they'd had Sophie and everything had gone wrong.

  Catching his balance, Alex followed his older daughter into the back room, just as the discordant yelling started up again. He didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one.

  Looking down at Olivia and thinking he shouldn't leave her in charge of her sister as much as he did, he said, "We'll have to get another one."

  She seemed to understand that he meant ‘another nanny’ and nodded up at him.

  But in the meantime, it was all up to him.

  He had to go face his two-year-old daughter.

  Mariliz Jennings sat across th
e desk from her last hope.

  The stern, older woman frowned down at Mariliz's resume and then frowned harder. It was understandable.

  Maraliz had a degree in psychology with a focus on abnormal childhood development, with minors in French and creative writing. It was as though she wanted to be sure she had a career that required she ask people if they wanted fries with that? Oh, and loads of student debt, too.

  To say she was having a bad month was an understatement. She was about three weeks away from running out of rent money, and that wasn't an exaggeration. She had the notice—two weeks and five days to be exact. Then she had to either break into the savings she swore she wouldn’t touch or find a new craphole to live in.

  On the upside, she'd once been a teacher. Not qualified to teach in a real school, because she'd quit before getting the state certificate. She'd worked in a retail shop once—luckily not serving fries—before she completed her degree. Then, after that one year of teaching, she'd been a wife. Which didn't look all that impressive on a resume.

  To be fair, her work hadn't been all that impressive as a wife, if her recent divorce was anything to measure by. She'd been told to be pretty, plan parties, play house. She'd done all of that exceptionally well, if her friends were to be believed. She'd also gotten her nails done, spent an exorbitant amount of time prepping home-cooked, organic meals, and filled her boring down time with lunches and more romance novels than a person could shake a stick at. Well, there were no more sticks left; she'd read so many books that all the trees had likely been killed. She was grateful when she got an e-reader and could better hide her habit from Reynold, who thought she should be reading loftier things.

  Looking back, maybe he was right. Had she been reading something educational she might have been able to put it on her damn resume. Or, she might not have needed the resume in the first place, because she never would have realized her marriage was so lacking. She might never have found strength from the women behind the pretty or racy covers who stood up for themselves. And Reynold might never have told her she was crazy and should be happy with the good life she had.

  She might never have looked further.

  She might never have decided to take charge and plan a special trip. That was when she found out her husband had been taking special trips all along—just not with her. Still, he'd told her she should appreciate the nice life he gave her. Mariliz didn't.

  Well, until now, when she was her own woman, on the verge of getting evicted from her crap apartment. A woman who had gotten a very nice car in the divorce and not enough alimony to cover everything. Her lawyer hadn't argued well enough that she'd put as much into the marriage as he had. Maybe she hadn't.

  At least she learned along the way to sit still and smile when the pressure was on. She used that now. And her nails looked fantastic. She had a lot of free time being unemployed and nail polish was cheap. So she faked calmly lacing her fingers and crossed her legs under the skirt that was only vaguely professional, but definitely not cheap.

  She was the best-dressed woman at her apartment complex, that was for sure. So she smiled wide under the last smidge of her expensive lipstick. She needed another tube of it. She needed rent. She needed a paycheck about two weeks ago.

  Mrs. Purvey, of the Purvey Child Care Agency—which Mari thought was a terrible name for anything with children—pointed down at the bottom of the print copy she'd been asked to bring. Apparently, Child Care was not part of the electronic age.

  "It says here you speak sign language?" It was a question, despite the fact that she said it all wrong.

  "I was a certified interpreter in American Sign Language. But I'm not at the medico-legal level anymore." She offered a sad smile. It had been years. Another cool skill that Reynold thought was another way his wife could be crass. Ya know, working. Had she tried to get reinstated, she would have surely failed the test now. But, as with many things, at one time, she'd showed promise.

  "You do or don't speak the language?" The woman stared at her harshly.

  "As a nanny? Perfectly fine." A deaf kid? The thought had no sooner occurred to her than Mrs. Gray was voicing it.

  "We have a family in need of a live-in starting tomorrow. The younger daughter is deaf." Another harsh stare, as though she was daring Mariliz to take the job.

  "That sounds fantastic." Tomorrow? She hardly paid attention as Mrs. Gray listed the stats. Number of kids, ages, genders, etc.

  Mari blinked. She could live in. No more worries about rent, or money. Not if she had a place to stay. Then she blinked again. She'd better pay attention or she was going to lose the job before she even got it. In her hand was an info sheet still warm from Mrs. Gray printing it out for her.

  "Do you have any questions?" The older woman asked in a tone that brooked no uncertainty that no, Mariliz Jennings did not have any questions.

  "I can't think of any." She said, then realized that made it sound like her brain didn't work. She motioned with the fact-sheet. "This looks very thorough."

  At last, the older woman looked pleased.

  Mari filed that away. She'd gotten very good over the past years at learning and cataloging who liked what, who'd vacationed where, and how to remember factoids as though she actually cared.

  Three minutes later, it was over. She was dismissed from the office and found herself on the front steps. She was expected at the address at eight p.m. tonight to introduce herself before the children went to bed, then she would start tomorrow at eight a.m. suitcase in hand.

  Holy shit. She had a job. One that paid her for a real skill. She drove off with a smile on her face. It stayed there even though Nashville traffic piled up around her. It stayed all the way to the crappy apartment on the other side of town. Never mind that East Nashville was up and coming. She was too far east and her place was definitely down and going.

  Once she made it home, she took one look at the brown, metal front door to her apartment and put the car back in gear. She was a good cook, but the thought of cooking in that awful little kitchen, with the glitchy electric burners that she hated, was more than she could handle. It was a good news day and there was a meat-and-three down the street. She and her Lexus would stick out like a sore thumb, just like they always did. But they knew her there. They knew she would show up in her designer skirt and happily eat green beans cooked with bacon fat. They would wink and give her extra banana pudding, too.

  The meatloaf tasted better with a side of freedom. She read up on the family while she tried to keep banana pudding smears off the page. The address looked nice, Brentwood area on the south side of town, not too far from the agency. That made sense, the agency would be located where there was a high density of families that could afford live-in help.

  Once, she'd been that kind of wife. Now she was the help. Maybe she should have had kids. For a moment, she looked up at the old acoustic ceiling and thought about that path. Nope. She would have been tied to Reynold, and even her crappy apartment, with the eviction notice taped to the front door for everyone to see, was better than being tied to a man who cheated on her and didn't even see a reason to be sorry.

  She looked back down at the page. Father—Alexander Beaumont. Mother—Bridget Beaumont. Children—Daughter-Olivia-Age 8 and Daughter-Sophie-Age 2.

  Fun ages, Mari thought. She had plenty of brothers and sisters and cousins. She understood what a two-year-old and an eight-year-old might be like. She also understood that every single one of them was their own person, even at those ages.

  No pets. Good. Mari wasn't even fond of goldfish.

  Live-in space—mother-in-law suite with private entrance on ground floor. Her own suite! It was probably bigger than her crappy apartment!

  At the noise of her spoon hitting Corian, she looked at the plate to find she'd cleaned it. Then she pulled her phone to discover that she had barely enough time to change, fight traffic, and show up at seven-fifty.

  Folding the paper into her purse, Mari breathed deeply of the smells o
f fried chicken and cooked-within-an-inch-of-their-lives vegetables. There would probably not be a mom and pop place like this on the other side of town.

  Chapter 2

  Mari rubbed her palms down the sides of her soft slacks. She wasn't able to remember the last time she'd been this nervous. Looking down at herself she saw a feathery tank top, soft simple pants, and flats. All things chosen to look professional and not too rich—which she wasn't. Also, she wanted to be able to sit down on the floor with the kids if it came to that.

  She knocked hard on the door, her knuckles smarting.

  Didn't they have a knocker? Or a doorbell? Her house had a knocker. It also had an asshole, she thought wryly, and it wasn't her house anymore. She pushed the thought aside, turning her hopes to her new life as a nanny. Plastering an expectant smile on her face, she took a deep breath and waited.

  And waited.

  No sounds came from inside the big house.

  Mari checked her phone. Seven fifty-nine. Not ten minutes early like she wanted, but exactly on time for someone to be here opening the door. Hadn't the family requested she come at eight tonight?