His New Jam

by Shannyn Schroeder

  As the song neared the end, he looked up and straight into her eyes, but he couldn’t have seen her because she stood in the shadows of other patrons and he had house lights on him. But she felt him searching. She pulled away, glancing at the ridiculous, so-not-her dress she wore, and scurried to the bathroom.

  One thing she got out of this night was that Hunter Reed did not need her help with any kind of music.

  Monday morning, Hunter packed up his sax quicker than he probably ever had after practice. He wanted to make plans to meet with Sydney to talk about drum lessons. Today might not be the best day to approach her since Daniel had been riding her ass since she strode onto the field. She wouldn’t even glance in Hunter’s direction. She couldn’t possibly still be mad that he’d had words with Daniel last week.

  Then again, he wanted to have a few more words with the asshole. But he didn’t have time. He was supposed to meet with his adviser in less than ten minutes to talk about next quarter. He grabbed his case and looked for Sydney, but she was gone. He sighed and hoped she’d be in the practice room where he’d found her last week.

  He ran to the education building and was only a little out of breath when he reached Dr. Hampton’s office. She was waiting for him, as usual. He liked her because he knew she wanted him to succeed, but right now, she looked like he’d somehow managed to disappoint her.

  “Hunter. How are you?” She stood behind her desk and gestured to the chair in front of her.

  “I’m good.” He sat, setting his sax case beside him.

  “Looking forward to the holidays and break, I assume?” She returned to her seat and folded her hands primly on the desk.

  Everything about Dr. Hampton was prim. Her puffy cloud of gray hair never appeared to move. Her thin lips were painted pale pink, never any other color. Her suits were tweed. Like, all of them. He wondered if she owned anything else. She embodied the image of a stodgy old professor.

  “Aren’t we all looking forward to break?”

  She nodded without actually agreeing with him. “I have some good news. We have you placed for student teaching.”

  “Excellent.” All of his friends had gotten their assignments last week.

  “You’ll be at North Ridge High School. We were able to get both a history teacher and the band director to agree to work with you.”

  The way her head tilted, he knew there was some bad news, too. He braced himself.

  “There were some concerns, however.”

  “Concerns?”

  “When you completed your hours of observation at North Ridge, some of the teachers felt you were overly friendly with the students.”

  Her pause indicated that she expected some response. Too bad he didn’t have one. “I thought part of the observation process was to observe and learn. I wasn’t inappropriate with any students. It’s not like I asked girls out on dates. I talked to students to get a feel for the school culture.”

  Dr. Hampton’s palms separated and she moved her hands as she spoke. “That’s all well and good, but the teachers felt you were not just learning, but trying to be friends with the students.”

  “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

  “Hunter, you’re a boisterous, friendly young man. People flock to you because of that. Your charisma serves you well. However, you need to learn to rein it in. If students see you as too laid-back, they’ll take full advantage and your control will disappear. You have to find the balance between being friendly and being an authority figure.”

  Her words sank in and although he understood what she said, he had no idea how to accomplish it. He didn’t want to be an authority figure. He wanted to help kids learn, help them enjoy history and music.

  Dr. Hampton chuckled. Just what he needed, someone laughing at him.

  “You look like you were just diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. You’ll be fine, Mr. Reed. Take your break, come back refreshed and ready to be a teacher.” She stood to let him know she was done.

  He stood and said thank you as clearly as his tight throat would allow. He grabbed his sax and walked out. As the cold air blasted him, his mind cleared a little. He had over a month to figure it out.

  He inhaled and the bitter sting of winter hit his lungs. The frigid air reminded him that he wanted to catch up with Sydney. He smiled at himself because he didn’t really think she was cold, just reserved. Now more than ever he needed to have the best tools to be a teacher. He needed to prove to his adviser and other teachers that he would be good at this.

  He jogged across the open quad to the arts building. The heated air warmed his numb cheeks. Hunter walked straight to the same room and hoped to find Sydney. Peering through the small rectangle of glass in the door, he was surprised to find her sitting at the drums, but not playing.

  Shoving the door open, he didn’t wait for her to acknowledge him. “Hi.”

  She looked up and wrinkled her forehead. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you. I tried to catch you after practice, but you have your vanishing act down. I figured you were ticked off at Daniel again, and I guessed this might be your go-to place to work off some steam.”

  “Yeah, well, I can’t play and talk, so what do you want?” She twirled her drumsticks, gearing up for another song.

  “I need your answer. Can you teach me?”

  She swallowed hard and then let out a low chuckle. “No.”

  That was it. One word. No explanation. He’d expect that kind of response if he’d asked her to strip in the middle of the football field. “Why not?”

  “You don’t need my help. You don’t need any help.”

  “What are you talking about? Why would I ask if I didn’t need help?”

  “Maybe what I should’ve said is stick with what you’re good at.”

  In a few quick strides he was across the room. “I can’t. What I’m good at isn’t enough.”

  “Look, I saw you last night. At Andy’s.”

  He jolted back. While he’d played he felt a niggling sensation of familiarity, but saw no one in the crowd. The thought of her being there made him uneasy. Playing at Andy’s was personal and not something he shared. It rarely meshed with people’s impression of him. Even though he was glad she hadn’t, he still asked, “Why didn’t you stop and say hi?”

  “I was on a date.”

  Oh. Emma had told him she was single. Must be a new thing. “Okay. What does my playing at Andy’s have to do with you not being willing to teach me?”

  She stood and rounded the drums to stand in front of him. He caught the slight scent of her perfume, spicy and warm. The purple tips of her hair flicked in the light and gave her a weird halo effect. “I saw you play. You were amazing. You don’t toss aside passion like that to fiddle around with a new instrument because you think it’ll get you into my pants. You keep at it and hone it. And I’m so not the person to help you hone anything slow and jazzy.”

  Her eyes blazed while she spoke, like she was ready for battle. He reached up to shove his hand through his hair and forgot he was wearing his knit hat. Knocking it off and onto the floor, he growled in frustration. Sydney backed away as he bent to grab the hat. When he straightened, she’d moved far enough that he could no longer touch her, not that he would have. “I love playing at Andy’s. The place is magical for me. But it’s not enough. Andy’s is not my life, my future.”

  Her arms shot up as she asked, “And you think playing drums is?”

  He scrunched his hat in his hand and tried to explain. “No. Teaching is. I’m an education major. I want to teach kids. I’m a passable drummer, but I don’t know enough to teach it. I don’t know where I’ll land next year, but I want to be ready for anything. Have you ever heard of a middle school or high school without a slew of kids wanting to be drummers? Drums are cool. Trumpets? Not really.”

  “You’re going to teach?”

  “Is it that hard to believe?”

  “Well, you’re . . . I don’t know .
. . a fun guy, like the class clown. I can’t picture you all buttoned up and serious.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. What the fuck? He had no idea that being fun and being a good teacher had to be mutually exclusive. Two people within an hour telling him he couldn’t be serious bugged the shit out of him. He could be serious when he needed to be. “Whatever.”

  He turned to grab his sax from where he’d set it.

  “Wait. I wasn’t trying to offend you.”

  Hunter stopped, but didn’t turn.

  “Is this paying gig at Andy’s?”

  Chuckling, he faced Sydney to see that she’d moved closer again. “No. You really think my band is a group of forty-plus-year-old guys? My regular band has a gig at The Garage on the weekends.”

  “Oh.”

  “Does that mean we have a deal?”

  “I’m no teacher, but I can play. I don’t know if I can give you what you’re looking for. I know you won’t ever play the drums like you played the sax last night. That’s something that can’t be taught.”

  “I don’t need the feel-it-in-your-bones love for drums. I need to be able to help kids who feel that passion understand it and act on it.”

  He must’ve said the right words because Sydney smiled. A slow lift of her lips, almost like she didn’t want to but couldn’t help it. She shoved one stick into her back pocket and her hand darted out in front of her. “We’ll give it a shot.”

  He took her hand, which was stronger than he’d thought, and shook. “Cool.” Then he yanked her arm to pull her off balance and toward him. “Now you’ll have to give me your phone number so we can keep in touch.”

  She braced a hand on his chest, dropping her other stick in the process. “Nice try, Tenor. This is a business arrangement. Nothing else.”

  He liked her hand on him and wanted to keep it there, but she righted herself and pulled back.

  “Friendly business, though.”

  “Whatever.” She picked up her stick.

  Pulling out his phone, he added a new contact. “What’s your number?”

  She grabbed the phone and typed it in for him. He liked her take-charge, no-bullshit attitude.

  “We practice tomorrow night. I’ll text you my address.”

  “Do I have to bring anything?”

  “Nope. I have all the instruments. Do you want our lesson to be before or after band practice?”

  “Doesn’t matter to me.”

  “After, then.” That way, they would have time to get to know each other alone without interruption. “Assuming you won’t be too worn-out after practice.”

  She shot him a cocky grin. “Don’t worry about me. I can keep up. Can you?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she returned to her drums and began beating out a rhythm. He took the hint and turned back to the door. As he swung it open, she stopped playing and called out, “Hey, Hunter.”

  He jerked back at the sound of her actually using his name. When his eyes met hers, she lost the cockiness and was dead serious. He thought maybe she had changed her mind.

  “You can’t tell anyone about this. Especially at band. It’s just between us.”

  A strange request, but he had no issue with it. Band wouldn’t be over until right before break, so even though he didn’t think anything between them would cause trouble, he didn’t want to take any chances. Her demand made him wonder about her reasons, though. “Sure.”

  He winked and slid out the door.

  Chapter 4

  Sydney rolled down the street for a third time looking for a parking spot. Hunter hadn’t said anything about his street being permit parking only. Her phone buzzed in the console. A text from Hunter: Let me know when you get here. I have a permit for you to park.

  Figured. She pulled over in front of his apartment and answered. I’ve circled three times trying to find a spot. Would’ve been good info to have. I’m in front.

  Be right there.

  While she waited, she took in the quiet neighborhood. Not at all what she expected from a guy like Hunter. An old two-flat with flowerpots on the front porch. They were empty now, but she could imagine a riot of color spilling out in the summer. Many of the cars on the street were SUVs and minivans. The neighborhood screamed young families. What the hell was she doing here?

  A blur ran past her windshield and it wasn’t until he thunked against her window that she realized it was Hunter. She rolled the window down.

  “Here.” He shoved a piece of paper on her dashboard. “Park anywhere on the street. Want me to wait?”

  “No. I got it.”

  “Good. It’s freaking cold out here.”

  “Go figure. Late November in Chicago.”

  She rolled her window up as he ran by again. This time she noticed he didn’t wear a jacket and it looked like he only had socks on his feet. Stupid guy.

  She found a spot easily this time since it was still early in the evening. Mulling over the state of the neighborhood bought her some more time before going in. It wasn’t just Hunter’s home making her nervous. She was expected to work with his band, one that was established and had relationships and routines.

  Neither of those things were her forte, which was a huge part of why the bands she’d started failed so quickly. She took a deep breath. If nothing else, this would be one hell of a learning experience. She’d find out how a successful band works, whether she had it in her to give drum lessons, and if she could fight the urge to crawl all over Hunter naked.

  She grabbed her bag with the beginning drummer books she’d brought, shoved the door open, and let the cold air hit her. Hunter was all kinds of bad for her and she knew it. Unfortunately, she was always drawn most to what was bad for her.

  Running up the sidewalk to the house, she was shocked to see the door swing open before she hit the porch. Hunter stood there waiting with a grin on his face that she knew attracted anything with two X chromosomes.

  “What took you so long? I was beginning to think you changed your mind.”

  Rather than answering his question, she asked, “Where do we practice?”

  “In here.” He led the way into the first-floor apartment.

  Inside the door, she paused. The entire living room was set up like a music practice room. What she wouldn’t give to have this. He had an entire wall lined with instruments. One guy sat and strummed a guitar. The drum set was used, but in good shape. She looked behind Hunter and saw the dining room acted as their living room. She pointed to the instruments. “How does your roommate feel about the noise?”

  “He knew I was like this when we moved in together. He doesn’t care. He works a lot and does his own thing in his room.”

  She squinted to see more of the apartment, but everything past the dining room was dark.

  “This is Jay. He’s lead guitar. The other guys will be here soon.”

  Jay nodded at her and continued to strum. She waved at him.

  “Okay.” She set her bag on the floor near the door and dropped her coat on top of it. “You want me to hang out and get a feel for it today, or am I actually playing with you guys?” She rubbed her cold hands together.

  “Uh, it’s up to you. Kevin will be here, but he’s cool with being done this weekend if you’re ready to take over.” He watched her hands twist. “You want a drink or a tour or anything?”

  She shrugged. “A water would be good.”

  “Come on.” He touched her arm and nodded toward the dark end of the apartment. He spread his arms out. “This is obviously the living room.” As he got to the end of the room, he flipped a switch, bathing a small hallway in light. He pointed at a door on the left. “That’s Adam’s room.”

  He turned and brushed against her as he moved. She didn’t know if it had been intentional, but the heat from his body felt good. He reached into the next room. “Bathroom.” Then he turned again and pointed at another closed door. “My bedroom.”

  He winked, but didn’t open the door or offer to show her
around. He got some points for that.

  “Kitchen’s back here.” Again he stepped around her, the barest of touches as he moved. It was a tight fit, but if he put in the effort, he could’ve moved without coming in contact with her. He said nothing more as he continued to walk away, so she followed. Before she even crossed the threshold of the kitchen, he had the light on and the refrigerator open. He pulled out a bottle of water.

  She accepted it even though she wasn’t thirsty. She’d wanted the tour, but didn’t want him to know.

  “We also have beer if you prefer.”

  “No. This is good.”

  She stood staring at him for a minute, just to take him in. This guy was a pile of contradictions. Playboy on the field, serious jazz player, teacher wannabe; she wondered which one was really him.

  “What? Do I have food on my face or something?”

  She smiled. “No. I was just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “Nothing important.” Behind them, the noise in the living room increased, letting them know the rest of the band was there.

  “I want to thank you for accepting my offer.”

  “Maybe you should hold that until after we have the first lesson. You might regret it yet.”

  He stepped closer. “Not likely.”

  And there it was again. The sizzling charge in the air between them that they both were aware of but didn’t quite acknowledge. She gripped her water bottle tighter and swallowed. “We should probably get started. Your band is waiting for us.”

  He continued to stare intently into her eyes, but whispered, “Yeah.”

  For another second or two, neither of them moved, trapped by the buzz of attraction, until she blinked and stepped back. Hunter shook his head with a smile and led the way through the living room.

  She was going to need a whole lot more strength to succeed with this arrangement. Hunter wasn’t even trying and her brain was fuzzing out on her. She twisted the cap on her water and took a couple of gulps.