Just Right

by Jessie Gussman

  He slapped the side of the barn and strode off.

  Gator parked his truck in the house lot and jumped out, keeping the door open until his dogs climbed out after him. It had been warm so far for December and the ground wasn’t frozen, so he didn’t want to drive through the grass to get to the barn.

  The muted sounds of Avery practicing her overweight trumpet carried over the early morning air and made him smile.

  The door to the house slammed and he looked over. Avery’s dark-haired friend with the exotic eyes waved.

  He returned the gesture. Jillian, he thought her name was. Gladys and Finch trotted over to her and he stopped, ready to call them back if she had the same reaction as Avery. She didn’t. Instead, she knelt while his dogs sniffed then licked her, then rolled over on their backs, legs in the air for her to scratch their bellies. The big babies.

  “Nice dogs,” she said as she stood back up.

  “Thanks. Avery doesn’t think too much of them.”

  She laughed. “She’ll come around.”

  He didn’t think so, but he just shrugged. “Might.”

  “Yeah, she will. She’s got a good heart.” She gestured at the dogs. “Better make sure you’ve got the paperwork up to date on these cuties. The tree customers are saying the dog catcher’s a real jerk, and he’s been making the rounds.”

  McKoy Rodning, a good friend of Gator’s from high school, used to be the animal control officer. But that was years ago. He must have moved on, because he definitely wasn’t a jerk.

  “I’ll keep it in mind.” A particularly loud note tore through the morning mist. Gator’s face scrunched up.

  “I see that face.”

  “I’m not an expert in music, but that note had to be wrong.”

  “I’m no expert either, but Avery actually is. The tuba isn’t exactly known for its beautiful tones, but it is known as a man’s instrument.”

  “A man’s instrument?”

  “Yeah. Avery was one of only two professional women tubists in the country. It’s a pretty big deal that she’s so good. Women can’t usually play the tuba professionally. They don’t have a big enough lung capacity.”

  “I didn’t know there was an orchestra around here.”

  “There’s not.”

  “Thought you said…”

  “She lost her chair last spring. That’s part of the reason she came out here. Fink was laid up over the summer, and she was at loose ends because of losing her chair.”

  “Is that a full-time job?” Gator was having trouble imagining that it would take up much time. Did they play every weekend or something? He’d never been to an orchestra concert.

  “No. She had a teaching position too. I think she gave it up when she lost her chair, but I’m not sure. She never really talks about it.”

  “I see.” He wondered how hard it really was to play the tuba.

  “I’d better get up and open the shop.” She gave the dogs one last pat on the head and did some kind of flip off the porch with her hands tucked into her sides.

  Gator snapped his fingers and his dogs fell in beside him. The tuba music was still loud and strong as he opened the barn door.

  “Sit. Stay.” His dogs dropped to the floor. Avery really was terrified of them, for good reason, he supposed. The considerate thing to do was to keep them away from her. It’s not like this odd attraction he felt for her could take them anywhere—she’d never have to learn to like his dogs. He wasn’t going to force them on her.

  Avery, walking while she played, had her back to him. The music had become something that it was hard to not tap his toe to, but he didn’t recognize it. Of course not. He’d never listened to any music except whatever tunes were on the radio. Just one more difference between him and the woman across the barn floor.

  Her blond hair swished around her narrow shoulders. She wore some kind of flowing, ruffled top that reached past her hips and tight jeans or leggings disappeared into high boots. Her feet marched in time to the music. His heart seized. She headed directly toward one of the many holes in the barn floor. As involved in the music as she was, he felt sure she didn’t see it. Three steps away, then two.

  He shot over, grabbing her arm as her body tilted and started to fall. But the big instrument she carried had her more off-center than he’d anticipated and, in a tangle of legs and arms and brass, they ended up on the floor together. Somehow, he managed to twist at the last minute and have her land on top of him. Pain thumped in his elbow and the bell end of her tuba pushed into his hip, but her hair flowed across his chest and some type of sweet scent with enough tang to be sassy wafted across his nose.

  His hands rested on either side of her rib cage. He didn’t remember letting go of her arm. Under his callouses her body curved, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from moving his hands down and back up. One of her legs were caught between his. Her other foot was still in the hole on the floor.

  “Did you twist your ankle?”

  She tugged at her leg. He swallowed a groan as her body moved over his. “No. My leg doesn’t hurt at all, but my boot is stuck.” She moved around, sliding her tuba away and releasing his hip from the pressure. Her hair brushed his chin and he clenched his jaw against the urge to run his hands through it. He settled for another deep breath through his nose, memorizing that scent. The most alluring thing he’d ever smelled.

  “Let me see.” He sat up and she slid down his chest. Curving his arm around her waist to keep her from falling off of him and onto the floor, he reached across their tangled legs and gently twisted her boot, popping it out of the hole. “There.”

  She didn’t get up right away. “I’m sorry. You’d think I’d learn after I’d fallen like this at least five times, but no. I always get so caught up in the music, I completely forget.”

  He couldn’t imagine getting so caught up in something that he forgot where he was or to look where he was stepping, but he’d just witnessed that very thing happening to Avery.

  “You don’t need to apologize.”

  “Sure I do. You’re here on the floor…are you hurt?” she added, like the thought had just occurred to her.

  “No.” His elbow didn’t count enough for him to mention it. And, honestly, there for a few seconds when she was wiggling on top of him, he’d forgotten about it completely.

  “Thanks for catching me. It hurts a lot less to fall on top of you than it does to fall on the barn floor.” She moved to get up.

  “For you.” He couldn’t help it. He grinned.

  Her lips pressed together in mock outrage, but her eyes twinkled and met his for a happy minute. His hand moved without his permission, taking a strand of her hair between his fingers, moving down the shiny velvet before his hand slid into the softness.

  Her head tilted into his hand. Their eyes held. Her lips parted, her lower one glistened pink as her breath came in little pants. His chest couldn’t expand big enough or deep enough and he felt like he was falling again. The air around them was charged, but distant, and he had nowhere to hold onto to stop himself. Nowhere except her.

  His other hand flexed on her waist. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her fingers tightened.

  His brain didn’t seem to be thinking at all, but a million thoughts were ripping through it at the same time. What was he doing? Was he really going to act on this crazy attraction between them? Maybe she felt it too. But it couldn’t go anywhere. She had her music career, whatever she was doing with it. She wasn’t going out west. There were no orchestras, or even music teaching positions for her where he was going.

  But maybe they could have a short affair.

  As soon as that thought hit his brain, he dismissed it. He wouldn’t be one of those guys. Using her for the physical aspect. It wouldn’t matter how many meals he paid for or how many trinkets he bought, it wouldn’t even matter if the desire was mutual. He couldn’t get upset about a woman only wanting money if all he wanted was sex. And that was all he wanted, he told himself. But as he
looked into her eyes for the seconds that felt like years, he suspected that if he spent much time around her, he was going to want more. Much more. And Avery, used to her city life and her upscale music and whatever else that entailed, would need money to keep her in the style she was used to. He’d already been dumped because he didn’t have enough. He wasn’t going to offer the opportunity to anyone else.

  But his hands didn’t want to let go.

  “Gator.” Her lips moved slowly, and his gaze left hers to watch them. His name coming off her lips. The hard case around his heart started to melt. Just a little.

  And it scared the crap out of him.

  He jumped up. Having only the presence of mind to grab her arm to keep her from plopping on the floor.

  “Can you stand?” he asked, his voice sounding more gravelly than he’d ever heard it. Like he’d spent the night with her instead of two minutes on the floor.

  “Yes.” If she were confused or upset about his abruptness, he couldn’t tell. Her eyes were downcast. She bent to her instrument.

  “Is it okay?” He scanned the shiny gold of the tuba. She might be scaring him, but he still cared about her. That had happened sometime in the last few days. Maybe when she’d cared enough about his mother to spend days decorating her home.

  “I think so. It’s survived me falling before. It is expensive, though. And it’s my livelihood.”

  “I’ve never played an instrument.” He’d never been interested. Until this very moment.

  Avery smiled and held her tuba out to him.

  He looked at her. Blinked.

  “Take it. I’ll show you.”

  “I don’t really think I’m an instrument playing kind of guy.” He looked at the tuba. Better than a cat. Maybe.

  “People change.”

  “Not that drastically.” But he took the instrument from her.

  She flipped it around for him and showed him where to place his hands.

  He lifted it up, surprised at how heavy it was. “Just blow into here,” he said, but it was really a question.

  She grinned, but didn’t say anything.

  He put his lips to the mouthpiece and blew. He’d expected a horribly bad sound to emerge. But there was no sound at all. He glanced at her; she was still grinning. He remembered what Jillian had said about chest size and capacity and took another, deeper breath. He blew into the mouth piece.

  Nothing.

  “Because you’re grinning, I’m going to assume it didn’t break when you dropped it just now.”

  “Nah. I was worried about dents, but not about breaking it.”

  “So, there’s a trick to this?”

  She laughed. “When I first started, I couldn’t believe my instructor when he told me how you actually make a note.”

  “You’re saying you wanted me to see what didn’t work, so I’d believe you when you told me what did.”

  “Yeah, basically.” Her teeth flashed, before her face became more serious. “Without going into a whole bunch of embouchure, basically you keep your teeth apart, press your lips together and blow out, making a buzzing sound.” Then she proceeded to do so.

  Just because she looked so cute doing it, or maybe because he loved the excuse to stare at her lips, Gator said, “Show me that again?”

  She did. Then she lifted a brow in challenge.

  He couldn’t resist the challenge. If it had been anyone but Avery watching, or maybe if she hadn’t thrown down the gauntlet, he would have felt like a fool. But he pressed his lips together.

  Her hand came up and touched the skin right next to his mouth. “Keep your teeth open.”

  He gave her a long look, wondering what she’d do if he opened his teeth and took her finger between them. Maybe his eyes showed his thoughts, because her lips opened into an O and she dropped her hand. Her eyes, however, never left his. He allowed himself a wolfish grin, pleased that she wasn’t immune to him after all.

  He shook off the feeling. He had no business flirting, if that’s what this was—it wasn’t like he flirted on a regular basis, or ever, actually—with someone he had no intention of developing a relationship with.

  He pressed his lips together and blew. After a few seconds and a couple of adjustments, he was making the same buzzing noise she had. She nodded eagerly. He didn’t tell her that little boys were programmed at birth to make noises like that. From the sound of things, she might be a little sensitive to men’s innate ability to play the tuba easier than women.

  “That’s right.” She beamed at him like he’d done something really hard. “Now put the tuba to your mouth and do that exact thing into the mouthpiece.”

  The same mouthpiece where her lips had just been. He castigated himself for that junior high thought.

  Lifting the tuba and putting his mouth on it, he repeated the technique and a sound—note—came out of the end of the tuba. He held it out for a moment before lowering the instrument.

  “Nice!” Avery beamed.

  “I admit. It was a little more complicated than I’d thought.” He handed the instrument back to Avery.

  “It’s not that hard. But, like anything else, to be good, you have to practice.”

  “So, you play in an orchestra?” He didn’t really want to admit he’d been talking about her to Jillian, even if he hadn’t brought the subject up with her friend.

  She looked down, twisting the mouthpiece off, before answering. “I lost my chair early last summer.” She shrugged her shoulders like it didn’t matter and gave him a fake smile. “I’m excited to work with a different orchestra, and I actually have an audition next week in Washington D.C.”

  “You driving down?” He followed her back to where her case lay on the floor.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Just wondering. I heard there was going to be snow next week, but it’ll probably be nothing. This far out, meteorologists are just guessing.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on the weather. Thank you.” She knelt in front of the blue velvet and nested her instrument lovingly in the cozy interior.

  She wasn’t staying here. Of course. He wasn’t either, but somehow the knowledge from her mouth that she was moving on set him on edge. “So, you audition and find out after Christmas? Then you’ll move to D.C. in the spring?”

  “Right after Christmas. They need a tubist for the spring concert season. I’ve already gotten an offer from a small private school to be the music instructor for their regular teacher who is taking the semester off. I have ten days to let them know.”

  A feeling like quicksand sucked at his insides. It didn’t matter. Not at all. Once he’d seen his mother through her treatments and into remission, he’d be going back out west to his ranger job. He wouldn’t be here anyway.

  A part of him admitted that he’d been considering giving his job up and coming back permanently to stay with his mom. But normal men didn’t leave the careers they went to college for to come back and take care of their mothers. He could hardly be a forest ranger here, and the only openings for game wardens were in the eastern part of the state. He’d checked. The doctors his mother had here were good and, most importantly, she liked them, so he didn’t want to move her.

  “I hope you get it.” He sincerely wanted the best for her.

  “Me too. That’s what all this practicing is for. Fink and Ellie would hate me if I played this much in their house.”

  “It’s chaotic enough in there.”

  “Yeah.” She laughed. “Did your mom talk to you last night about the tree trimming?”

  “She said you didn’t mind coming up with the materials and ideas, and that I could be the brawn that hung the stuff up high.”

  “You sure you don’t want to be part of the planning?”

  “Yep.”

  “You did such a beautiful job on those decorations you made for her yard.”

  “I made those because I loved working with wood. Not because I loved decorating.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  He
took out his phone. “I’m going to patch these holes in the barn floor. You can’t have a party with that kind of danger.”

  “I thought I’d put orange cones around them.”

  He glanced up. She was smiling. His lips turned up in response.

  She shrugged. “Fink was going to patch them for me, but their son is scheduled for surgery tomorrow. I’m not sure when they’ll get back.”

  “I’ve got it. I’ll measure them, put the numbers in my phone, and I’ve got some plyboard that won’t look the greatest, but will keep your guests from breaking any legs. Or disappearing into the cow pens down there.”“They’d have to be pretty skinny. But they are a danger to small children,” Avery said. “I’m not sure how many people will come, yet alone if anyone will bring their kids, but I really appreciate you fixing them for me.”

  “It’s a public service.” Gator snapped the measuring tape off of his belt. “You sending out invitations and that kind of stuff?”

  “I just posted it on Facebook.”

  “The easy way.”

  “Yeah. I don’t really have time to do more. I want to focus on getting the decorations just right.”

  He gave her a look.

  “I know. You aren’t into decorations. I got it. I promise I won’t ask for help with that.”

  If only she had someone to help her.

  Avery had spent the afternoon and evening selling Christmas wreathes and decorations with Jillian. Things had slowed down now and Jillian was handling the few remaining stragglers for the last two hours until closing.

  Avery sat at the big table in the farmhouse kitchen. Craft pieces, glue, and glitter interspersed with pictures of Mrs. Franks’s party. She’d already taken notes and managed to figure out what was imperative to duplicate, and what she could get away with changing, either a little or a lot.

  The tablecloths she could do. Also, the ruffles around the top beams and the party favors shaped like two candy canes intertwined around a Christmas tree wouldn’t be that hard, just time-consuming. She was working on them now. It was going to take forever; she half-suspected that for the party in the pictures, women had gathered and spent evenings making the crazy things together. Today, especially at this time of year, people were too busy to take a whole evening and make decorations. Mrs. Franks would help, but she had been especially tired today and had gone to bed early.