by C J Burright
It seemed challenges eclipsed solitude in Adara Dumont’s playlist.
“Counter-offer.” She fiddled with her coat buttons and narrowed her gaze. “Ten songs, but they must have been released to the public and played on the radio at some point or another, no songs composed by you or some other obsolete artist. They must have words…no classical.”
“Obsolete artist? You wound me.” He hid his triumphant smile behind a calm mask. For at least tonight, she was his. She just didn’t know it yet—and he wasn’t going to ruin it by telling her—but there was no possible way she knew more music than he did. “I’m big in Belgium—Google me if you dare—and I agree to your terms, but ten is too few. Twenty.”
“Eleven.”
He folded his arms. “I went down five, and you add one? What kind of bargainer are you?”
“The not-desperate kind.”
“Determined isn’t the same as desperate. Nineteen.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Fifteen.”
Fifteen, twenty, the number didn’t really matter. This was a bet he couldn’t lose. Garret dropped his chin and slowly grinned. “Done.”
Her smile was wide, beautiful and just a little on the sly side, as if she were the one suckering him. Heat unfolded in his chest, filling every corner. Even if he’d made a mistake with this wager, he couldn’t regret it. She’d smiled, and for now, that was all that mattered.
Chapter Eight
Perched on the edge of one round stargazing couch, Adara chewed the last bite of delectable roasted chicken, savoring every second. The food alone was almost worth wasting her night. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d eaten real food. As Garret tuned his violin from the cushion opposite hers, she kept her expression blank. He wore a small, confident smile. Clearly, he thought he’d crush her in the Name That Tune competition because he was a musician.
She sipped raspberry-flavored sparkling water—her favorite, another small Gia betrayal—to hide a smirk. Music might not be her passion but it had been Joey’s. So yeah… Ambrose the aspiring pirate was about to get demolished and he had no idea. The anticipation was exhilarating.
“There have to be contest parameters.” She set her glass on the floor, swiped the last baby carrot from her plate and pointed it at him. “Tunes spanning centuries are too broad.” She chomped the carrot in half and hoped her crunching annoyed him.
The strings plinked cheerfully beneath his long fingers at his experimental strum, and he looked up from his instrument. “For you, I’ll take a handicap.” Starlight sparked silver in his dark eyes. “Your proposal?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “We already established no classical and no Phantom of the Opera. Eighties and nineties only.”
“An unduly harsh and narrow musical window.” His smile faltered before snapping back into place. “Done. No whining when you lose.” Garret picked up the bow on the seat beside him. “And no questioning my honor with accusations of cheating.”
“Stop stalling. I have an appointment with a crossword puzzle at eight.”
“Cancel it.” He tucked the violin beneath his chin. “This night’s just beginning.” Cocky man. Setting the bow to strings, he wriggled his eyebrows. “Your music memory pop quiz begins now, Miss Dumont.”
Adara crossed her legs and clasped her hands primly over her knee. She was the pop quiz queen. A long, high note flowed from the violin and rose to the celestial sky. Even without the help of a full band or beat, she wasn’t worried—
Her heart throbbed once, hard and awful.
With or Without You, she croaked, thanks to her tight throat. The bow immediately stopped and she blew out a silent breath. Joey had held an undying affection for U2. She should’ve added the band to the no-play list.
“One point for you.” Whether he sympathized with her or hoped to take advantage of her weakness, he didn’t give her recovery time. A slower song spilled from the instrument, lilting and undeniably Irish.
Red Is the Rose. She subtly wiped her clammy palms on her jeans and launched into her hard-core teacher tone. “No more Celtic.”
He lowered the violin, his eyebrows tented. “You can’t just change the rules along the way.”
“No Celtic,” she repeated, her jaw tight. She wasn’t sure she could take another unwitting hit from Garret. He seemed to have a knack for choosing Joey’s favorite songs.
Studying her with his soul-searching look, he tilted his head. “For an X in your column, I’ll agree.”
“Done.” She relaxed slightly. It was a fair trade. No way, no how did she want to review all the Irish songs Joey loved, reminding her of the trip to Ireland they’d planned before he’d gotten sick.
Garret grinned, as if it were a win on his part, and slipped his instrument back into place. He sawed out a slow, country tune, one she let him play all the way through the chorus. There was nothing better than a false sense of hope to break an opponent’s confidence, and he so needed to be brought down a peg or two.
He finished and pointed the bow at her, his dimple on display. “Name That Tune, if you can.”
She tapped her chin and gazed up at the ceiling of stars, drawing it out. The hardest part was controlling her smirk.
“Three second warning.” Anticipation laced his voice, as if he couldn’t wait to celebrate…aka gloat.
“Country isn’t my thing.” She toyed with her sweatshirt’s fraying hem, going for meek. “Wild guess. Misguided Angel?”
He dropped his chin and his smile. His eyes narrowed. “Are you playing me?”
She huffed, but her mouth betrayed her, twitching.
“Challenge heartily accepted, Miss Dumont.” Intensity shadowed his features, the same intensity he’d used to win at the carnival. He set his jaw and replaced the violin on his shoulder, his fiery gaze never leaving hers.
A delicious thrill slid through her and gathered low in her belly, warm and tingling. She chalked it up to annoyance—definitely not desire or any of its counterparts—but maybe duping him had been a mistake. Garret, looking at her as if she was the prize he’d do anything to win, almost made her forget tonight’s goal. Adara straightened and clenched her hands together, focusing. She had to finish this, finish with him.
After a quick-fire round of mixed genres, from hard rock to indie to pop, Adara leaned back on her hands, enjoying the starry universe above and the fine flavor of victory. “No shame in concession, violin boy. I’ll only remind you Monday through Friday.”
“That word isn’t in my vocabulary.” Steel lay at the core of his voice. No man liked to lose, and some people didn’t know when to yield.
“What? Shame?” She bared her teeth.
“Name this one.” Bittersweet notes spun a fanciful tune to match the stars. Garret slowly circled her couch, his expression relaxing with each slide of the bow. His shoulder blades subtly shifted beneath his shirt layers as he played, and she had the unnerving urge to touch his broad back, to feel him move beneath her fingers. He was so easy to watch, so mesmerizing, that she didn’t stop him right away. But please. Every grade-school teacher knew her animated movie theme songs. The last note rippled across the darkness and faded into silence. He looked at her expectantly, wearing a hopeful expression.
She almost felt sorry for him. Beauty and the Beast.
Instead of frowning, he went into a slow, sensual bass rhythm, watching her the whole time. Seductive, the music crept into her blood, heating every molecule along the way, reminding her how long it had been since she’d even thought about being touched. Kissed. Held. She crossed her legs and pretended to be bored, pretended she wasn’t tempted to take the violin’s place in Garret’s hands and let him play her instead. She was the first to break eye contact.
This was not a date.
By chorus’ end, she still didn’t know the song. But she kind of wanted to, a secret she’d never reveal. He dropped his chin, waiting for her answer.
Ignoring the dancing prickles in her bloodstream, she shook
her head.
His smile was brighter than the moon hanging in the amphitheater sky behind him. “Not a Dave Matthews Band fan?”
“Obviously. And you can’t play more of their songs to win.” Later tonight, though, she’d familiarize herself with that particular song—another thing he didn’t need to know.
“I don’t have to rely on Dave to prevail.” He propped the violin on his cocked hip and scratched his stubbly jaw with the bow, his tone arrogant. “You only have one strike left.”
“And you only have four songs left.”
“No problem.” He went into a quick, bright tune, one any skilled violinist or fiddler knew, not to mention the general masses.
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “Devil Went Down to Georgia, and I didn’t sign up for a hoedown.”
His smile widened. Still playing, he jumped into a weird step and hop that might be considered some version of dance, if chickens pirouetted free-form—most definitely a move that could cause public panic.
When he reached the devil’s portion of the song, she flung herself back on the couch and gazed at the stars, mostly so she’d stop being tempted to smile. Joey had hated country, and she’d taken every opportunity possible to sing with a hayseed twang. Annoying her brother was a sisterly duty, one she took very seriously.
Garret blended songs without pausing, exactly as he had at the party, sliding seamlessly from country to slow and sweet. Wearing that dreamy smile, he gave up his dancing and sat beside her, as if to make sure she knew he played this song for her. It didn’t help that his citrus and honey cologne invaded her space, making it impossible to disregard him. Dang. She couldn’t deny he was smooth with the violin—but not smooth enough to distract her from the game.
Still flat on her back, she arched an eyebrow until he finished. “World Stand Still, and that costs you a song because it’s from the twenty-first century.”
“Worth it.” Too fast and unexpected for her to move, he brushed a callused fingertip down her cheek and slid out of reach.
The line where his finger had been remained defiantly warm. With the stars spread over her, the soothing darkness close and the way Garret comfortably hooked her in his space, her need to win dulled beneath a strange tug in her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt normal with someone else.
“Crunch time, Ambrose.” The words came out more of a whisper than she’d planned.
He sucked in a breath and released it, assuming his serious, refuse-to-lose look. Without a word, his burning gaze still on her, he played his last song.
Notes washed over her and her heart flipped with the beat keeping time in her head. I Knew I Loved You. Without warning, a rush of longing broke free, so sharp and poignant that she went utterly still. She’d forgotten the song, forgotten how once upon a time she’d dreamed of finding the one person created precisely for her, the sort of love that was inexorable. Irresistible. Deep and destined. The dream, she could handle. It was the pain in reality that sucked.
The violin lapsed into an aching quiet. Garret sank onto the couch across from hers and gently laid his instrument across his knees. Absently toying with a hole in his jeans, he studied her with dark, liquid eyes, his usual smile absent.
If she named the tune, he’d stay true to his word and take her home, back to her safe haven. She didn’t doubt that for a second. Yet returning to a crossword puzzle, ghosts and silence had lost its appeal somewhere between the stars and the unfailing dare in Garret’s every move. She wanted to stay. Staying didn’t mean anything. Even introverted monks wanted company once in a while. Tomorrow, she could return to life as usual, no damage done.
She shook her head, and lied. “Don’t know it.”
“Shame.” The in-your-face victory dance she expected didn’t come. Instead, he placed the violin back in its case and switched seats to sit beside her, close enough that their knees touched. “Perhaps you should expand your music selection to Top Forty. I Knew I Loved You. Popular song.”
He knew, knew she’d fibbed. Her face heated. She couldn’t go back and admit she’d lied, but she had to do something. No way would she confess she’d lost just to stay in his magic a few minutes longer. That would ruin everything. “Are you sure that song’s in the correct timeframe?” She pulled out her phone before he could object. “I’m checking.”
He sat still and mute while she researched, his gaze on her never wavering.
“It hit number one in January, 2000.” Sure, the release was in late 1999, but maybe he wouldn’t know. “2000, Ambrose.”
He rubbed his bottom lip, his dark eyes probing. “If you want to get technical, we’ll have to agree to a tie.”
A tie. She could roll with that. She sighed to throw him off. “I guess.”
“Sometimes a tie is as good as a win,” he said in a low, serious voice and lifted his attention to the stars.
Fully processing his meaning wasn’t something she cared to do. His abnormal quietness chafed her nerves. The auditorium darkness felt too vast, too aware. The void needed to be filled. She guessed she had to dust off her rusty conversation skills. She cleared her throat. “Musicians hardly have trouble finding willing company. Middle school band geeks excluded, of course. Why harass me instead?”
He laughed softly, his focus still on the sky. “I came home to recharge, to find my inspiration in the more personal connection of smaller venues. I’d missed that in the last three years.”
That was so not an answer to her question, but she let it slide since she’d only asked the question to get him talking again.
“I love music because it inspires,” he continued, as if sensing her discomfort. “It evokes emotion, unites people, creates memories. I needed mine to be revived.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “You’re doing that for me.”
Adara blinked. No way had she heard him right. The most her safe, silent world could ever awaken was a yawn. But his expression was serene, matter-of-fact. “Are you messing with me?”
“By no means.”
“That makes zero sense.” Unless…Gia must’ve told him something else, more than what she’d confessed. She twisted to face him. “What, exactly, did Gia tell you about me?”
He kept his focus on the stars, but his mouth ticked into a small smile. “Not much. I didn’t want to learn about you secondhand.” At last, he met her gaze. “I want to discover you myself.”
“So let me get this straight. You find a reserved, anti-music third-grade teacher who will only go out with you by losing a bet inspiring?”
He shifted, his knee bumping hers. “What I find inspiring is a woman who uses her pain as a shield and yet, despite her best efforts, can’t keep her light hidden behind all her cracked pieces.”
Her breath bottled up. Was he some sort of violinist guru who could see inside souls, read the truth in people’s eyes? She had to break free of him before he searched deeper, learned more and she split completely, letting him in. Letting in more pain. “That woman is petitioning the school board to cut the music program if the budget fails.”
His eyebrows shot up and his smile vanished. “Cut the music program?”
“It’s either that or lose a teaching position.” She refused to tell him it was her job in particular or that she also planned to propose a hefty personal pay cut to make up any difference left after the music ended. Sympathy wasn’t what she was looking for. “Only the fourth- and fifth-graders participate in the music program anyway, taught by the high school band teacher two cities away. He’ll still have a job. Besides, music is a luxury. People can get by without it, unlike reading and writing.”
“I can’t get by without it.” He studied her as if truly seeing her for the first time, brokenness and all.
Her strike had finally hit home. It was what she’d aimed for. She hadn’t expected the success to cause the emptiness in her heart to throb.
“Adara, music is a memory book of life, written with emotions words can’t hope to relay.” He stood and pac
ed, ripping off his beanie and wringing it. Metallic sparks from the fabricated starlight gleamed in his golden hair, a welcome distraction. She’d always thought guys with long hair looked scraggly. Somehow, Garret made a man-bun sexy.
“It’s communication of the soul.” He circled around, his rant increasing in volume and strength, his boots a quick cadence with his voice. “Timeless, priceless, a bond connecting people to each other in an incomparable way.” Each word he uttered was punctuated with passion, joined by sharp hand gestures in the air. “Cutting music is like chopping off a finger or carving out half the heart.”
“I see where Tatum gets her drama tendency.” She forced her tone to be calm, hiding the fast tempo of her heart. What is wrong with me? Crushing his interest had to happen. She clasped her hands together to keep them steady. “If kids really want to learn music, they’ll find a way.”
He spun on his heel and faced her. “Would you steal that opportunity from your brother, knowing the joy it gave him?”
No, I wouldn’t. “Moot point. Joey isn’t here.”
“So no one else matters?”
She ground her teeth.
He crossed the distance he’d put between them and sat beside her, bracing his forearms on his thighs. “I don’t believe you think that. I don’t believe you’d want to deprive anyone of happiness or deny someone their life purpose.”
She refused the powerful urge to look away, to surrender any ground. “You don’t know me very well.”
“I know enough.”
“Look… I understand most people like music more than math.” She had to say something or start squirming beneath his scrutiny. “Joey sucked at school.”
“With the exception of music?” Darkness glittered in his eyes, a challenge to deny it.
“My point is he could’ve functioned in society without learning music.”
“Functioning isn’t the same as living, Adara.” His tone was deliberate, as if he saw right through her façade and wanted her to know it.
“Can you truly live without functioning first?” She folded her arms and crossed her legs. Suck on that bit of rationale, musician.