Christmas lights tastefully decorated the exterior of Kurt and Morgan’s home. Evergreen wreaths accented with large red bows hung from every window facing the street. The brick mailbox at the end of the drive even had wreaths on each side of it. Welcoming smoke puffed out of the chimney, promising a warm relief from the cold Georgia night.
James parked behind a pickup truck on the end of the lawn. “Looks like a few people beat us here,” he said before getting out of the car to open Melody’s door.
“That’s Stevie’s truck. He’s my lead guitarist.” She gestured at a red Ferrari. “And that belongs to Ray Porter, my drummer. He’s a hoot.”
James smiled as they walked up the drive. “A hoot, huh?”
“A constant source of entertainment. I think he originally wanted to be a stand-up comedian.” Exci
