by C J Burright
“Bryan inherited the Ambrose music, along with Bob’s techie skills.” Garret smiled proudly at the boy hunched over the coffee table with his gadget. “He figured out how to manipulate the karaoke machine to project only the bass line and harmony. The melody is up to the competitor”—he unhooked the clasps on the case and gingerly lifted his instrument—“and me.”
Watching him handle the violin with such care, those large hands gentle and deft, did something strange to her blood, made it run faster, hotter. She refocused on Tatum. “So it’s girls against boys?”
“Yup.” Tatum spun, her blonde hair flying. “Usually it’s me and Mommy against Bryan and Daddy. Uncle Garret’s gonna have to sing this time.”
Garret chuckled as he adjusted the violin strings. “The boys might as well concede now.”
“Speak for yourself, Uncle G.” Bryan snapped something in place and sat back on his heels.
“What’s the prize?” Adara asked.
Garret’s gaze lifted from the violin to her, dark and glittering, and his voice was inappropriately low and sexy, considering the minors in the room. “What do you want it to be, neshama?”
Warm tendrils unfurled everywhere, weakening her knees, and she was glad to be sitting. Falling on her face might tip him off. Neshama. He kept calling her that, and she definitely needed to look up the definition, but when he used that tone, she didn’t care what he called her. She gave herself a mental shake. She had to focus on him going down.
Going down.
An image of him moving slowly down her body, caressing, kissing, licking skipped through her brain. Her face heated, and she bit the inside of her cheek. Where were these thoughts coming from? ‘Going down’, as in losing. That’s what she meant. She had to look at him more as a eunuch than a man.
Perfect. A eunuch. No manly bits, no sexual lure—just a person who happened to be in the same room…a person who still watched her with enough heat to sear her nerve endings.
Oh yeah…the prize. “How can there be a winner without a judge?”
“We’re all honest and impartial judges.” Garret relaxed into the couch cushions, the violin resting across his knees, bow hanging loosely in one hand. If he sensed her on the verge of combustion, he didn’t show it. “And since you haven’t named a prize, I will. Losers have to make the winners sundaes.”
“Boom. All ready.” Bryan flipped on the TV. The karaoke instructions rolled across the screen. “So you can prepare, Miss Dumont, I like extra chocolate.” He smiled, and it was so much like Garret’s that Adara blinked twice. The boy might be a techie geek, but he wouldn’t have any trouble finding girls to go to the eighth-grade dance.
“And I like extra cherries.” Tatum lifted her chin, taking the challenge.
“You’re giving her more sugar?” Adara whispered to Garret.
“By the time the sugar buzz kicks back into high gear, I’ll be long gone.” He smiled, slow and sly. “The benefits of being an uncle.”
She pressed her lips together to stop a grin. It was so easy to joke with him, to forget she needed to stay aloof. To forget everything.
Bryan won the coin toss and stuck out his tongue at Tatum. “I choose Wanted Dead or Alive.”
Adara’s shoulders relaxed. Bon Jovi tunes wouldn’t stir up any memories. “Is there a master song list? I need to prepare.”
Tucking the violin beneath his chin, Garret looked at her from beneath lowered lashes. “Worried, Adara? I like lots of whipped cream on my sundae.” His smile turned wicked. “Lots and lots of whipped cream.”
She pictured whipped cream—lots and lots—but it definitely wasn’t on ice cream. Eunuch. He’s a eunuch. She cleared her throat. “That’s great”—she crossed her legs and primly settled her hands in her lap—“fatty.”
He gasped and paused, bow set on the strings. “I reveal my deepest, darkest adolescent wound to you and this is how you respond? With hurtful name-calling?”
“Just testing your mettle. All’s fair in karaoke competition.” She shrugged. “If you can’t take the heat—”
Garret lunged, taking her completely by surprise. He grabbed her uninjured ankle and dragged her fully onto the couch. “Tickle attack!”
Tatum and Bryan dove in, tickling her with fierce, little fingers while Garret held her ankles gently but firmly hostage. Adara’s stern pretense lasted all of two seconds. The itch to squirm and laugh burst free, uncontrollable. She kicked for freedom, flailed at the relentless hands in her ribs. The tickling didn’t stop until her laughter was closer to breathless snorts.
“Cease, minions.” Laughing, Garret released her legs. After a final tickle in her armpit, Tatum backed off, giggling, her blue eyes bright.
“Monsters,” Adara wheezed. “All of you.” She sprawled helplessly in the skewed cushions, her chest heaving, ribs aching. Her feet were still in Garret’s lap but she didn’t have the energy to care. She was completely out of shape when it came to laughing.
Garret squeezed her calf, the warmth from his hand seeping through denim, lingering on her skin. “All’s fair in karaoke.”
She kicked him lightly in the thigh with her free foot and rolled enough to find Tatum. “You’re supposed to be on my team, traitor.”
“No teams in tickling,” she said, completely unapologetic.
Adara narrowed her eyes. “Just remember, payback comes when you least expect it.” She turned her glare on Bryan, then Garret. “I shall have my vengeance.”
“Promises.” Garret wriggled his eyebrows, recovered his violin from its safe spot beside the couch in the corner. “Ready or not, neshama, here I come.”
Chapter Fourteen
Adara snatched the song list Bryan tossed to her and rolled to a sit, crossing her legs pretzel-style on the couch. She flipped through the booklet. Nothing in the list could chip at her fragile composure, even if a violin was involved, and she knew exactly what song she’d sing.
Garret tapped her knee with his fist, the contact lingering with his words. “Pay attention. We’re the judges this round.”
She lifted her gaze to his and her pulse stuttered. No more than a few inches separated them. How had she not noticed she’d scooched so close? Heat rolled off his big body. One of the ceiling lamps was aimed straight on his face, showcasing the color range in his dark eyes. Upon first inspection, his irises appeared black, but spotlighted as they were, the striated shades varied from coffee to chocolate to sepia. She could get lost there.
“Paying attention?” He used that same low, husky voice that shot straight through her, leaving a fiery trail in all the right places.
She chanced an eye roll. Even if Tatum caught the forbidden move, it would be worth a few stickers if the ploy threw Garret off. She seriously needed to pay attention, more to herself than the competition. “What’s taking you so long to start?”
His smile widened and he set the bow to strings once more. He glanced at Bryan and Tatum, who’d positioned themselves center stage, one microphone each. “Ready?”
“Ready,” they said in unison, their voices amplified and fuzzed by the microphones. Bryan smacked a button on his revamped karaoke machine, and the music and words appeared on the television screen. A soft, barely discernible beat began.
Garret looked once at the TV and closed his eyes. After a handful of breaths, he joined the beat at exactly the right moment…with his eyes shut.
Her moments-old vow to pay attention only to herself drifted away. He was magic. It was the best, most applicable word in her vocabulary. As he had the night they met, he seemed to exude the music. His dreamy smile belonged to someone who was completely happy, blissfully unaware of anything beyond the quick, sweet notes pouring from his instrument. It didn’t matter that he played an ’80s hair-band ballad instead of Tchaikovsky. He was a creature of irresistible beauty, the Pied Piper in the flesh, replacing a pipe with a violin.
Bryan’s voice started in with the lyrics, cracking her daze. She gulped air. Since when did she forget
to breathe? Adara forced herself to turn from Garret and face the kids. It took all her willpower. Despite the hazard to her health, she didn’t want to stop watching him.
The chorus came and Bryan belted it out, not bad at all. Then, it was Tatum’s turn.
Adara forced her hands to remain on her lap instead of covering her ears as instinct demanded. As Tatum sang, watching her with big, earnest eyes, she did her best not to wince or shudder. Whatever family musical genes Bryan inherited had left a negative balance for his sister. She couldn’t match a note.
Tatum screamed into the chorus, and not even the professional violin could help. The final duet was an auditory bloodbath. Tatum screeched an impromptu finale and the song finally ended. An unnatural twist of sweet violin and shriek echoed in the sudden silence.
“Dear God,” Adara whispered and slumped into the couch, her eardrums aching.
Garret leaned close and his warm breath stirred her hair. “Told you I needed help.”
“You didn’t want to suffer alone.” She turned her head enough to meet his gaze, only inches away. “Not the same thing.”
“True. But I won’t apologize, since it got you here.” His quick-fire grin stole her breath, causing her lips tingle. A small shift by either one of them could breach that distance, make contact, mouth to soft mouth.
“Well?” Tatum asked.
Garret suddenly straightened and applauded with gusto. His gentle elbow nudge reminded Adara to join in. Bryan bowed and Tatum performed a cross between a curtsy and a twirl, all smiles.
He rubbed his chin, his expression grave. His gaze cut to Adara, amusement sparkling like fireworks. “Perhaps our guest judge should comment first.”
“Coward,” she muttered, ignoring his chuckle. She struggled free of the couch and perched on the cushion edge. “You both clearly gave one hundred percent effort. Well done. Tatum, your enthusiasm was reflected in every note.” The little girl’s toothy smile inspired the warm and fuzzies. “Bryan, you’d make a great Jon Bon Jovi impersonator.” The boy’s smile was even bigger than his sister’s. “But, since I’m forced to choose a winner, my vote goes to”—she steeled herself for the tantrum—“Bryan.”
“Aw, man.” Tatum stomped a foot and crossed her arms, but her sharp gaze had already dismissed Adara and gone straight to Garret’s jugular. If she was going down in flames, it would be because her favorite uncle allowed it.
“Sorry, sweetie.” Garret made a sad face. “Bryan got you on this one. Keep practicing. You’ll get him next time.”
While Bryan fist-pumped the air, Tatum blazed a glare at them all. Adara bit her cheek to hide a smile. One of the things that made Tatum her favorite student was her passion. Win or lose, she always made it clear how she felt, and surprisingly, Garret’s gentle encouragement seemed to bank any tantrum.
“Is that what your violin mentor told you? Keep practicing?” She refused to retreat when he rested his forearms on his thighs, his elbow brushing her knee.
His expression softened, full of memories. “She’d smack me on the back of the head with her bow and say, ‘Why you not practice? Lazy American. Ten more times you play, then go home and play ten more. I watch you with my third eye.’”
“Third eye?” That wasn’t at all creepy.
He laughed. “She haunted my nightmares. Scary woman, but a great violinist.”
“Your turn, Miss Dumont.” Bryan handed her his microphone while Tatum held onto hers, keeping her performance spot. “Just choose the song number on the karaoke machine. The beat will start and the words will come up on the screen.”
“Wait, I have to compete with Tatum? I thought we were a team.”
“You’re both on the girl team, but after losing once, each person gets one more shot. Lose twice and you’re out. Whoever’s standing last wins for the team. Family game rules.”
She joined Tatum at center stage. “So either way, we win this round, right?”
“Right.” Tatum lifted her hand for a high-five, and they smacked palms. “And since you’re the guest, you get to pick the song.”
Adara leaned down and whispered, “The boys are so losing.”
Tatum’s grin brightened her whole being, and Adara returned her smile. Funny, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d shared a smile with her favorite student. But she didn’t stop.
“Prepare for three minutes of mush.” Bryan flopped onto the couch, stretched out his legs, and crossed his ankles on Garret’s thigh. “Girls always choose love songs or bubble-gum pop.”
Garret lifted his eyebrows and cocked his head, openly studying Adara. “Not sure I agree with you, Bry. Miss Dumont’s a contradiction. She seems reserved, but check out her black sweater and black boots—and I don’t mean her sprained ankle boot. That could mark a secret Goth vibe, possibly an indication she’s into indie rock or grunge.”
Bryan glanced at her normal boot, looking dubious. “She looks like a teacher.”
“That’s her disguise, and she’s conditioned you to see it because you’re a student.” Garret nodded, his eyes gleaming. “You have to take a step back and look deeper.”
Adara crossed her arms and glared. How did he know about her love for Goth?
“Check out her hair. Sleek and straight, every strand in place.” Garret’s eyes narrowed, assessing. “What does that tell you?”
“That she uses a comb?” Bryan’s voice hissed with exasperation.
“No, get with it, bro.” He lightly backhanded his nephew’s foot. “The art of observation is useful in all aspects of life, so start learning. Her hair contradicts her choice in attire and reveals to the careful observer that, despite her best efforts not to care, deep down, she does. And the style she’s chosen, a sleek bob, indicates she prefers to stay in control.”
His accuracy was unnerving. Adara punched the song selection in the karaoke machine. “Let’s just wrap this up, shall we? I have a hearts and flowers meeting in an hour.”
Garret’s teeth flashed. “Sassy when riled. Good thing to remember too, Bry, especially if your study subject is a woman.”
“Specimen has wriggled off the slide,” she said into the mic and pushed the Start button.
“Whatever.” Bryan slipped his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. “Wake me up when it’s over.”
The song started, a light beat of nothing but crash cymbal, and since the music was technically supposed to start with the beat, Garret was already behind. He scrambled to set up, straightening and bracing the violin. He caught the rhythm with the next note and closed his eyes, that same, dreamy smile revived.
Bryan perked up, and she suspected it had something to do with her music selection. Garret had pegged her correctly in that area too, not that she’d admit anything. Unless she was in a particularly melancholy mood, she avoided love songs. And she’d always loved a hard beat and rough-voiced lead singer, dark lyrics not quite tipping completely into metal.
Enter Sandman by Metallica was perfect.
Since the lyrics came after a fair stretch of music and drums, she had time and reason to ogle Garret without fear of being caught. He must have lots of karaoke time with the kids because he seemed to know her song choice by heart, which only added to her begrudging respect. Not every violinist would memorize Metallica.
He opened his eyes and smiled straight at her, pulling her into his magic.
That fluttering abnormality between her ribs awakened, and she didn’t have time to force it back down. The lyrics came up, and she had to sing.
Funny thing about family genes… In the Dumont family, Joey had scored. He’d inherited magnetism, good looks, an outgoing nature and musical skills up the ying-yang. The arts category hadn’t touched her, but Joey had charmed her into singing while he played, so she wasn’t Tatum-terrible. She added some head-banging to mess up her hair, just to prove Garret wrong.
The violin scratched off-tune and missed a single beat before smoothly falling back into rhythm.
Tatum’s t
urn came and Adara straightened before she fell over. Head-banging took more skills than she had. She was clearly not born to be a musician. Even with hair hanging in her eyes, she didn’t miss Garret’s wide smile, his full attention on her. She gripped the microphone harder as warmth joined the butterflies inside. The perfect violinist had messed up because of her. Maybe it was wrong to feel smug about that.
But it felt…right.
Three more songs, a final win over Bryan and a victory sundae later, Adara quietly set her half-eaten ice cream in the sink while Garret and Bryan argued the eternal question—guitar or violin? Joey had always sworn that whatever a guitar could do, a violin could do better, not that she’d back up Garret by mentioning it.
“See you Monday, Tatum.” Adara high-fived her karaoke partner’s sticky hand, and Tatum went back to her sundae, her face smeared with chocolate. Poor Bob and London were going to have a long night, and she preferred to be far away before they returned.
“I’ll walk you out.” Garret licked his spoon and dropped it in the sink with a clatter.
“Not necessary.” She headed for the door.
“Mandatory.” He jogged around the kitchen island, following her. “What sort of peasant lets the hero depart without an appropriate display of appreciation?”
Adara snorted. “I prefer to be appreciated from afar.”
“Appreciation cannot be appropriately administered from a distance.” Laughter thrummed in his voice. “Sorry.”
She grabbed the doorknob and twisted, but the deadbolt blocked her quick escape. Garret planted a palm on the door above her head.
“Thanks for saving me, neshama.” The solid wall of his body was a heat lamp at her back. His voice dropped to that low, sexy rumble that made her thighs clench. “Truly, I would’ve been lost tonight without you.”
“Doubtful.” Steeling herself, she pivoted to face him. His closeness kicked her heart into overdrive, made it hard to breathe. “Is neshama another word for ‘sucker’?”
“No,” he murmured, leaning into her. His breath fanned her cheek, sending shivers down her back. She expected his trademark smile to show up. Instead, his expression intensified to serious, almost longing. His gaze drifted to her mouth.