A Moonlit Serenade

by Alexa Padgett

  The lyrics that flooded my mind caught me off guard, but I considered the imperfect rhyme. Never been one for songwriting before—that was Murphy and Hayden’s role.

  Still…I liked it. Ryn’s hair fascinated me—the myriad tones, the thickness, the softness.

  “It’s a mess,” she said on a sigh, frowning at her hair’s tangles.

  “I like it this way. My favorite, actually.”

  She glanced away, but not before I saw the worry building in her eyes. “Was that…did you enjoy that?”

  Hadn’t she heard and felt my response to her?

  “Will you look at me?” I waited until she did, though my heart began to thunder against my ribs and a cold sweat popped out on my skin.

  She sucked in a breath and raised her gaze to mine. Hers remained darker, full of shadows where I only ever wanted to see light.

  “That was the single best experience of my life. Bar none.”

  She shook her head. “It’s okay, Jake. I know I’m not…You’ve been with other women, and I…Dez was it for me. I mean, I liked sex, but it just never…I’ve never experienced anything like what we did before.” She finished in a rush, her cheeks flaming pinker than a cockatoo’s feather’s.

  “Good.” At her startled look, I continued, “I haven’t either. What we did here, in your bed, was us, being us.” I maneuvered, finally pulling out of her soft, tight clench. I gritted my teeth, wanting nothing more than to bury myself back inside her.

  I would, but first Ryn needed reassurances. Those I could give her.

  “I’ve never pillow-talked so dirty before,” I said. “Ever. But with you, I couldn’t help it.”

  Her lips parted as she stared at me, eyes wide. Did a man’s ego good, that look. I planned to keep it on her face.

  “Did you like what we did together?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “Did you like the way I touched you? The way I filled your body?”

  Her cheeks flamed again, and this time the blush spread down her neck to her breasts. Blimey, I needed to feel her skin while she blushed like that. I lowered my lips to her throat, moaning at the contact.

  “I did. I do like the way you touch me. I like you being in charge while we’re in here.” Again, she was hesitant. I waited, but I couldn’t resist bringing my hand up to cover her flushed breast. Her skin was smooth but soft, warm. Filled with vibrancy and the smell of Ryn—and me. My body zinged with need.

  “It’s just…” She played with my hair. She did seem to have a fascination with it. Whatever got her going.

  I nuzzled into the valley between her gorgeous globes. I loved her breasts.

  “You make me feel beautiful and…and hot. I burn with you.”

  I rolled her over onto her back, unable to resist her a moment longer. I crawled up her body, kissing and licking my way to her mouth, which I took and plundered.

  “Best answer. I’m going to make you burn again. Now.”

  “Will you…will you stay?”

  Her eyes pleaded but her voice was steady. I had no clue what she was thinking, but once again, I knew I must reassure her. I cupped her cheek, my thumb drifted over her plump, damp lip. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

  Her smile lit up her face, her eyes glowing, all those shadows burned away with my words.

  A small niggle of unease crept up my spine, but I ignored it, opting to kiss her lush mouth once again.

  This, here, was heaven. Our moonlit serenade. Heaps different from her song, but I planned to play—and enjoy—every bloody note.

  “Where were you today?” Ryn asked as she snuggled against my shoulder. I lay on my back, sprawled across the bed as I’d been since my trip to the loo after our second round of love-making.

  She liked touching. I frowned. From what I’d seen, she didn’t get much contact outside the nippers she worked with. Must be lonely, then.

  “I went by your hotel.”

  My arm wrapped tight around her narrow waist. She might be slight but Ryn was stacked with luscious breasts—worthy of any master sculptor. I wanted to spend hours worshipping her bum with my hands and mouth. Soon, I decided.

  I shifted because part of my anatomy refused to offer Ryn’s body a rest. Plus, she wanted to talk, and I was happy to oblige. I wanted to tell her about my day, hear her thoughts and concerns about her own.

  “Isaac told me. You’re on my approved list, by the way. Added you right after I met you.”

  “Well, the tall dark-haired lady at the front desk didn’t seem to think so.”

  I smiled at Ryn’s frustration—more like jealousy. Never wanted to be the object of a jealous lover before. Now I did.

  “I’ve already put a call in to the manager about the front desk clerk’s stunt today. I was at Asher’s studio. Preslee finished her songs this afternoon. Asher and I started mixing one. We think Pres will sing the opener, then Ash, then maybe our duet. Can’t tell till we hear some of how you and I work together, but after I laid my track and first round vocals, we went over the production schedule. We’re three songs short of a full EP.”

  Ryn digested what I told her, considering her place in my world, no doubt. Now that I understood her better, I could wait for her to come to the decision on her own—she’d been learning these past two years how to be independent and she deserved my vote of confidence in her abilities.

  “Has Isaac been following me this whole time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because someone tried to kill you.”

  She stiffened beside me—every muscle rigid. “That’s not how I remember the situation.” Her voice serrated at the end of the words, cutting into my languor.

  “Ryn, I have the means to protect you. I brought you into my world—that’s why Isaac’s tailing you and that’s why I spoke to a detective.”

  “What?”

  Uh-oh. This time I couldn’t mistake the anger in her voice. Her eyes, when she lifted her head, were wide with anger.

  “I just mentioned it to the detective who worked on Mila’s case. We’re mates.” An overstatement, but Ryn’s demeanor told me I was well on my way to getting kicked out of her bed.

  She blew out a breath in slow increments. “Sam’s dad will talk to her.”

  “And if he doesn’t? What if he doesn’t believe you? What then? This is your safety.” She opened her mouth to argue, but I placed my index finger over her lips. “Please, please think about what you’d want if our positions were reversed.”

  She snapped her lips together, her eyes still shooting angry darts at mine. And, just like that, I stuffed up—why’d I have to mention that now?

  Because I’d been thinking about her self-sufficiency, and I wanted her to know I’d take care of her. But…more fool I…Ryn didn’t want to be taken care of. She wanted to prove herself. Needed to prove herself.

  “I’m sorry you’re upset. I wanted to help you, not make you angry.”

  Again, she nodded. She lay down, but the ease between us vanished. Because of my big, fat mouth.

  “What are your plans today?” I asked her over breakfast the next morning. She made something called a breakfast burrito.

  This Yank food proved delicious. Sausage, eggs, potatoes and some gooey cheddar wrapped in a whole-wheat tortilla. Yep, made my taste buds dance.

  “I have a class at eleven, one thirty, and three thirty, then I’d planned to drop off a donation at the synagogue tonight.” She watched me with those careful eyes.

  “May I come?”

  Her smile grew as she nodded. “I assumed you’d have to do rock star stuff.”

  “I do.”

  Her shoulders slumped a bit.

  I set my burrito down on the plate and bounced my leg, trying to figure out what she wanted from me. At least she wasn’t angry anymore. A step in the right direction. Still, I needed to tread with care.

  “I’ve got to be at the studio at nine, but after lunch, I’m going to rock out with nippers an
d my girl.”

  Ryn laughed. “Good save.”

  “Thought so.”

  “Does it bother you? Me celebrating both holidays?”

  I leaned across the table and kissed those soft, sweet lips. My addiction to Ryn’s mouth grew every day. Same with the rest of her, really, but it was her lips I fantasized about. Touching them, licking them, biting them, having her wrap them around my…I shifted, my pants as uncomfortable as the guilt now blanketing my shoulders.

  “Of course not. Must have been fun growing up. Bet some of the kids were heaps jealous.”

  Ryn shrugged, still looking a bit twitchy. “Some. Others called me names, made fun of my Jewish heritage. That’s part of why I keep celebrating.” She paused, sucked in a big breath. “Why I want my children to learn and participate in Jewish culture and traditions.” She peeked up at me from the side of her eyes.

  “Right-o. Seems smart. And I like your attachment to your family, your history.” I kissed her again, taking my time, dancing my tongue over her lips, wrapping it around hers before caressing the warm cavity of her mouth. “You’ll have to teach me. I’ve never been to a Hanukkah celebration, and I don’t want to muck it up.”

  She blinked her eyes open, those lips swollen and wet from my kisses. I pressed against her belly, bringing my hand to her back so she could feel my response to her.

  “I’m not…” She shook her head, appearing to clear out some thought, leaving me to wonder what she’d been about to say. Her eyes pleaded with me to drop the topic. An uncomfortable feeling churned through my belly—as if Ryn was writing off a future with me because of the kids she wanted.

  “If you want to go tonight, I’m in,” I blurted, needing to move past this awkward moment.

  “It’s a menorah-lighting ceremony at the local community center. I normally drop off a couple of care packages for the homeless. Sing a few songs.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “You don’t leave a bloke much time to organize, do you?”

  Her lashes fluttered down to cover her eyes. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to go. And it’s not like we were really talking until last night.”

  “If this is important to you, then I want to participate.”

  She remained stiff, unsure how to respond, but her eyes, when she met my gaze, were full of longing.

  Yet another wall to scale—to conquer—to prove my interest in her. “Did Dez do these things with you?” I asked, the certainty of her answer already building like a wildfire in my gut.

  “Sometimes. I mean, he liked the ‘Dreidel Song.’” She smiled but it was forced. “But he wanted me to focus on his family’s traditions. Those were familiar.”

  When she pulled back, I ran my hands down her spine, cupping her hips. “Your past makes me jealous. I reckon I’ll learn to handle that.”

  Ryn blinked up at me, her honey-colored brows tucked in tight over her nose. “You’ve dated women—beautiful women—for the past few years. I can’t compete with them.”

  I pinched her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “You don’t have to. I didn’t date much—too bloody shy around all that skin, first off. Left me tongue-tied and stupid.”

  Ryn’s frown deepened, but I pressed on.

  “They wanted Murph anyways. I’m the quiet one. Not much interest in me when they could have the bad boy. But my point was that I wasn’t involved with many of them—didn’t want to end up like my brother, the wanker.”

  “You’re telling me you were too sweet and shy for sex?” Skepticism dripped from Ryn’s voice. I’d painted myself into this corner, and had no clear way out.

  “Well, not exactly.” Blimey, my cheeks and ears burned. “I mean, I did have sex with some of those women.”

  Ryn stiffened and pulled back as I rushed on, my heart hammering as I stumbled over the words I needed to say. “But we both knew it wasn’t a long-term deal. I mean, I was only in town for a day, sometimes two.” I stopped talking, my hand running through my hair as my guts twisted and yanked into greater discomfort. “I’m really mucking this up.”

  Ryn wrapped her arms around her middle. “This right here is part of what I struggle with. Why I tried to get you to leave when we first met. I don’t like the idea of casual sex. I’ve never practiced it, and while you’re harping on my marriage, I’m thinking about all the women you’ve been with who didn’t mean anything more than a quick release.”

  I sighed. “That’s my point. There haven’t been that many. I’m not like Murphy.”

  I stepped closer, but Ryn held herself and her ground, making me work for the closeness I craved with her—only her. How to explain that? How to get her to see it?

  “I’m not a bloody monk, but I haven’t had a girlfriend in years. Haven’t wanted one because to me, it’s about caring. I care about you, Ryn. More now that we’ve been together.” I touched one of her curls, tugging it gently before tucking it behind her ear and caressing her cheek.

  Ryn’s lashes fluttered down but not before hurt filled her pretty eyes. While I understood her desire for more, I’d never been one to lie. I wouldn’t—not with Ryn.

  Though, in that moment, I wondered if I’d just cost myself the one woman I’d be able to love.

  13

  Ryn

  Jake met me after lunch for my early afternoon class—which was filled with the same number of freak-outs as the Monday moms, but once we did all the requisite selfies and autographs, class went smoothly. We had one more week of musical fun time before the winter break, which lasted a full month.

  Every spot in my spring classes was filled, and I received several requests for new children each day, probably thanks to Jake’s presence and also Murphy Etsam showing up with his fiancée last week as to do with my teaching skills.

  Both times I saw them together, I envied Mila’s ease with Murphy. Their dynamic fascinated me: his impulsivity tempered by her thoughtful review. Mila might be quiet, but she was assertive—something I appreciated more now that I’d fully considered Dez’s actions and my acquiescence to his plans.

  Jake and I managed to snag one of the studios after class, in the hour before my next one.

  “You want to do ‘A Moonlit Serenade’ last?” he asked.

  I nodded, fiddling with my guitar strap. “Is that okay? I mean, I just want some more direction before Asher dissects my song.” The song I wrote to the child I’d never have with Dez. If I stayed with Jake, I might never have a child, period. I fiddled with the knobs, retuning the strings—anything to busy my hands and help me ease the ache in my chest.

  “How about we start with ‘All the Pretty Little Horses’? See how that sounds with your guitar?”

  I nodded and began to strum out the melody. Jake gestured for me to begin. I closed my eyes, still unused to having a musician of Jake’s caliber watch me as I sang. I startled, missing a note, when he matched my pitch for the chorus. I opened my eyes and looked deep into his as I sang the next verse. He sang the chorus again and I finished the last verse.

  He smiled, his eyes alight with pleasure. “Blimey. You’re a dream to work with. If we’re that on point for our first rehearsal, this is going to be the fastest album I’ve ever worked on.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Fair dinkum. You’ve no idea how unprepared musicians can be coming into their studio time.”

  “Isn’t that a waste of money?”

  Jake shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t matter so much when the studio’s footing the bill.”

  I strummed out the opening chords again. “But you’re paying for this one, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “So, you’re on the hook for the time and the marketing and whatever else goes into it?” I asked, my stomach once again cramping with nerves.

  “Most of it, but Asher’s been right decent about the studio time. We exchanged a larger percentage of sales on the record.”

  My palms turned sweaty. “I thought this is more of a personal project.”

 
“It is.” Jake tugged me closer to him, clearly sensing my unease. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t sell heaps of copies. Don’t worry. You’ll get your percentage. It’s in the contract I brought over for you to sign.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “Can we run through the song again?”

  I smiled, but it felt a little off. Talking sales and studio time was so outside my wheelhouse. I struggled to focus, wondering how Jake and I could possibly make us work.

  Later that day, when my last class ended, I put my version of Mila’s quiet will to work, insisting on walking home alone. I needed more time to process everything Jake brought to my life—the photographers who met me outside my apartment building each day, the questions and interest in me in the media, my changing role as a musician—it all slammed around in my head, but the most important question was how to reconcile my attraction to Jake with my desire for a family.

  “Let me drop you off at least?”

  I shook my head. “The exercise will do me good. I’ll see you later tonight.”

  “Ryn. What’s wrong?”

  Trusting in life—as I had that Dez would return home, as he had the previous two times—proved stupid. If I didn’t take the time now, didn’t make my goals happen soon, they may not ever come true. I might not be a mom.

  “Nothing,” I said on a sigh.

  Jake was more attuned to my needs than I gave him credit for, and his eyes filled with concern. “I care about you. I want you happy.”

  On some instinct I couldn’t control, I leaned up and into him, kissed him, let him wrap those strong arms around me. We rested together, my ear pressed to his heart. But then I pulled back—from the embrace and from the emotions flooding through my system.

  Maybe it was the magic of the season. Or, more simply, the yearning in my heart. I craved Jake’s love. His touch made me near incoherent with desire. But his thoughts, laying bare his insecurities as I had many of mine, albeit unintentionally thanks to Sam and her crazy antics, left me feeling raw and unsure.