Page 69 of Cabin Fever Baby

Q snarled and bit the head off.

I shook my head and picked out a thumbprint cookie I’d made. “Okay, so you know he crashed. During the worst of the storm, he was driving home to his family’s place that’s somewhere on the lake like this place. He shouldn’t have been on the road. One of the big city plows was doing its job.”

I took a sip of my coffee, chilled at the thought of how much worse it could have been when Hudson had been pushed off the road.

“He was driving a stupid tiny car without any steering or weight to combat this weather.”

“Idiot,” Kent muttered.

“Rental. There weren’t any left. It was a Versa, for God’s sake.”

Kent grunted. He drove a monster Silverado and thought cars were inferior unless it was an Aston Martin. Q tried to buy him one after his first million, but Kent had told him to save his money.

I cupped my fingers around the hot mug. “You should have seen me getting him out of the car.” I smiled behind the lip of the mug. That had been the first time he’d called me Angel.

A horn honked outside, and Q perked up. He pulled his phone out and grinned. “That’s my bike.”

We both followed him out into the living room, then to the entryway. Quentin barely took the time to put his boots on before he was out the door to where a truck had his beloved Arch custom motorcycle.

He’d done a song for a video game that had used Keanu Reeves as the voiceover, and they’d bonded over bikes. He and the famous actor had made Q a custom bike that actually was now part of the Arch lineup.

One of the few things that made my little brother nerd out was working with him.

I had a feeling some of the nomad life that Quentin was longing for was because of his friendship with the actor. If that urged my brother to go out and get away from the music machine for a little while, I was all for it.

Kent rested his forearm on my shoulder like when we were kids. “Is he okay?”

I peered up at him. Worry had pinched his brows together. I patted his chest. “He’s just burnt out. If he sits still for more than a few minutes, he gets anxious. He’s been pushing so hard for so long, I think he’s afraid if he stops, everything will go away.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Watching Q smile as the two drivers unhooked the bike from the back of their flatbed, I wondered the same. But I was well versed in the music business now and knew that people could forget you if you didn’t keep up with the churn and burn.

There was alotof pressure on him.

“I’m trying to convince him to take some time. I think he needs it.”

“He’s too fucking skinny.” Kent drew his arm away to fold them across his chest.

Q was lanky and muscular, thanks to running around a stage for years. He worked out with a trainer to keep him in fighting shape for his grueling schedule. But he had gotten a bit lean in the last few months, thanks to the pressure of so many shows.

Kent backed away from the porch and closed the door when it didn’t look like Q would be coming in anytime soon. He checked his watch—an actual watch. No Apple smart watch for my big brother. A sturdy one that included a near unbreakable crystal since he was so hard on himself working with all the old houses.

“I gotta go get the idiots.”

I grinned. It was something we’d all adopted calling each other over the years. “I’m really glad you made it.”

“Me too. My buddy is working on an extended remodel on an old Victorian here. I think he’s calling in a marker.”

“Which one?”

“Archer. He says the place is haunted.”

I laughed. Archer Baldwin was a stone mason and since that was a dying art, he and my brother often overlapped on bigger rehabs. “So, you’re sticking around here?”

“Looks like it. Lots of old houses over here with deep pockets.”

I gave him another hug. “This area kinda gets under your skin.”