I rarely, if ever, ventured into the park in the middle of a workday, but today, my need for fresh air and space led me here and I was content to follow my whim.
A familiar ringtone erupted, and the inside of my jacket began to vibrate. I thought of ignoring the call completely, but the sound was irritating so I plucked the device out of my pocket, intent to shut it off.
Ivory.
She was probably the one call I wouldn’t ignore.
“Hey,” I answered, Ivory also being one of the only people I could answer so informally.
“Sorry to bother you in the middle of the day,” she said, her voice sounding as tired as I felt.
“Is everything okay?” I asked immediately, turning to look in the direction of her office building.
“Yes, of course. Long day.”
I made a sound and started walking again. I could understand that. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to tell you that he said no.”
I paused, searching my brain. When I couldn’t find the answer, I asked, “Who said no?”
“Fletcher. I know you wanted him to play at your upcoming hotel opening.”
The mention of Fletcher made my heart skip just a little. And then disappointment made me frown. “He said no? Really?”
Ivory sighed heavily. “I know. I can’t believe he would turn down these opportunities. I just don’t understand. But he was adamant.”
“Opportunities?” I said, picking up on the plural.
“Oh yes, I have an entire pile of offers here for him. I feel like I have a side job as his manager, but he won’t even look at any of them.”
“He didn’t strike me as someone that stubborn.”
“I didn’t think so either,” she said softly. “But I won’t push him anymore.”
“Okay. Well, thanks for letting me know.”
“Is everything okay?” Ivory always was good at reading me.
I made a soft humming noise in the back of my throat. “Everything’s fine. Just fighting off a headache.”
A small sympathetic sound echoed in my ear. “Okay, well, if you want me to send over my masseuse, just let me know.”
The muscles in my neck and shoulders begged me to accept. “You’re the best,” was all I said, and then we ended the call.
This time, I made sure to power off my phone before tucking it back into my pocket. An hour of peace wasn’t too much to ask for.
Turning into a part of the park that was a little less busy, I walked along in quiet, stewing over the meeting I’d just had with my father.
I’d never much been bothered by him dictating my love life before… but I cared now. The thought of playing knight and shining armor to some West Coast princess over the next few weeks was enough to make the headache I was fighting off turn into a full-on head rager.
Soft music stroked over my frayed emotions, soothing me in a way I’d never experienced before. The air vibrated with a deep timbre, a low melody almost somber in nature. It was melancholic but beautiful all at once, not at all off-putting, instead like a beacon of cautious optimism.
The tune was slow but never-ending, and I walked toward it, drawn inexplicably by the way it made me feel. Leaves overhead seemed to dance to the same song, the forest within the city coming alive in a completely new way.
The noise of cars and urban life faded away, and it was as if I were truly transported into another place where only I and the grass underfoot existed, the golden sun sparkling on everything it touched, the very air enchanted with only the song and faded clip-clopping of the horses and carriages traveling along nearby paths.
Rounding a small bend, I stared, almost transfixed, through the dark sunglasses at the lithe figure up ahead, his body swaying as if the music didn’t come from the instrument in his hand but from his body.
Footsteps stalling, I watched the vibrations of each note bubble up from somewhere deep inside him, escaping through the strings he navigated with so much skill it was again like he himself was the instrument and not the wood he held.
Head bowed toward the violin, his hair looked like spun golden thread as it swayed with every note he played. Familiarity rippled through me, but I didn’t think it through. I couldn’t think about anything just then. All I could do was feel.
The tune moved me. It felt as if actual pieces inside my chest were being rearranged and adjusted according to this song. As if this boy who played this song knew exactly where pieces of me belonged and he would arrange them so I wouldn’t have to.
Emotion so stark and overwhelming punched me. I actually bent a little at the waist. Tears sprang to the corners of my eyes, but I held them at bay.
Absolutely entranced. Absolutely owned.
Absolutely besotted by the sound of this boy.
I didn’t even know a person had a sound. A song unique to only them. But now that I’d heard, it seemed to be so obvious because no one else could possibly ever sound like him.
This went far beyond the sound of a voice or even a whisper against your ear.
This was… This is the sound of someone’s heart.
In my chest, my own heart pounded, thumping heavily and slow but so powerful breath was hard to draw.
I stood there listening, not really breathing. Not really seeing. Totally alive and aware with senses I’d never used before.
When the last note was played, it hovered thick like the air after a heavy rainstorm. It caressed my nerves with small aftershocks, stroking them as if they were trying to build a memory.
As if I could ever forget.
Laughter was what drew me back to the woodland. A sound not quite as musical or delicate as the violin, but a sound as equally engaging.
He was no longer holding the violin. He’d placed it on the bench behind him, the instrument lying there unaffected by the magic he’d just made it produce. The crisp breeze caught the fabric of his T-shirt, ruffling it, plastering it against a thin frame.
More laughter filled the air as he knelt into the grass, sticking an oversized hand into a white paper bag to draw out a handful of something. I watched him toss whatever he held out away from him, sitting back on his haunches to smile.
He was surrounded by animals. Squirrels, a few birds… even a bunny.
He was feeding them, kneeling right there in the cool grass, tossing out what must have been roasted peanuts to the animals who were impossibly unafraid.
Yes, in this park, the wildlife was accustomed to people, and yes, people sometimes fed them… but this was unlike anything I’d seen before.
The bunny hopped just a little closer. He said something I couldn’t hear and tossed a peanut toward it. A squirrel darted close, chattering at him almost like it was jealous for attention.
As I watched, I became jealous for attention too.
A stronger fall breeze cut through the air with my thought, the leaves rustling overhead, playing a song all their own. A song that would never be as enchanting as this boy’s.
Hair rustling wildly, he lifted his head, noticing me. I didn’t bother to pretend I wasn’t staring. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
Even though there was distance between us, I felt our gazes collide.
Familiarity came for me again. This time, the ability to think didn’t disappear.
Moving back on his haunches, the boy slowly rose, still clutching the paper sack.
His body rotated toward mine, and I saw.
I saw him with my eyes this time, not with my heart.
Fletcher. A boy I already knew. A boy I’d just spoken to Ivory about.
“Ethan,” he called out, waving to me with the bag because his hand was still stuck inside.
Cute.
Lifting a hand in acknowledgment, I started walking in his direction, not willing to turn away even though a whisper foretold this chance meeting in the forest would likely change everything.
4
Fletcher
* * *
My stomach felt weird. The
second I looked up and saw him standing there with the sunlight practically spotlighting his broad figure, it started jumping around like I’d eaten too many of these roasted peanuts.
My nose wrinkled. But I haven’t eaten any of them.
The closer he got, the squirmier my stomach became, making me shuffle from foot to foot, wanting to look away but not able to force my eyes elsewhere.
He really does look like a prince.
Tall, broad-shouldered with chiseled features and stylish blond hair. His eyes, which I knew were blue, were hidden behind a pair of shades, but even the dark lenses couldn’t hide the intensity of his stare.
Shifting again, the toe of my sneaker caught on the hem of the jeans, and I pitched sideways, the paper bag rattling because my hand was still stuck inside.
“Agh!” I yelled, yanking my hand free, causing nuts to fly everywhere, landing with gentle but audible thuds all over the grass.
The ground came fast, so fast I knew I wouldn’t be able to catch myself. “Oomph,” the sound rushed out of me before I even realized what happened, my body still bracing for the hit.
No hit came. In fact, I wasn’t even falling anymore.
Huh? Prying open one eye, I peeked up.
My heart stopped.
That sharp jaw was incredibly close. So close I could see the very faint stubble there. He was staring down, brows furrowed over the sunglasses, and his naturally contoured cheekbones looked fiercely sharp.
“We keep meeting like this.” He spoke softly because, again, he was so close.
The vivid memory of the day at the hospital when I’d almost fallen flashed behind my eyes. He’d caught me then too.
Releasing the breath I’d been holding, I made no move to get up because I was still marveling at his proximity and how his one arm supported my entire weight without any trouble at all. The muscle didn’t even quiver from the effort.
But me?
My stomach wasn’t the only thing quivering anymore.
“You okay?” The deep timbre of his voice made a small shiver race up my spine.
I tried to scramble up, completely alarmed, but it only made me fall into him harder.
“Up you go,” he said, echoing the same words from that day in the hospital. Then I was on my feet again, blinking, still staring.
“Your jeans are too big,” Ethan pointed out, gesturing at the too-long hems.
“I like them,” I argued, staring at the way his suit fit him perfectly.
Nearby, a squirrel chattered, and I spun. “You ate it all already?” I admonished. Its tail was twitching impatiently as it stood a bit farther back than before and stared at the bag in my hand.
“You better be careful with these. I think they might be bad!” I whispered loudly as I leaned down to scatter the rest of what I had around the lawn.
“They’re bad?” Ethan said, his hand wrapping around my upper arm, somehow dwarfing the appendage. “Did you eat them? Are you sick?” Concern was clear in his tone as he drew me up and around, searching my face for signs of illness.
When he didn’t find any, he pulled the bag from my hand to look at it instead.
“Fletcher. Did these make you sick?”
I jolted from his voice. Not because he was loud or harsh but just because, for a moment, everything around us was muted.
“Huh?” I wondered, blinking.
He held up the empty bag, and I remembered the conversation.
“Oh, no. I didn’t eat any. I bought them for them.” I motioned toward the animals all eating happily.
“Then why did you say they’re bad?”
Palm patting my belly, I said, “My stomach feels weird.”
He reached out like he, too, was going to pat my belly, and I sucked in a breath. Noting my reaction, he stopped and pulled his hand away.
The tips of my ears grew so warm I wondered if they might be on fire. Slowly, the heat spread from my ears toward my cheeks.
“Sit down.” Ethan directed me to the bench.
We both sat, my violin resting between us.
“I heard you playing,” he told me, looking down at the instrument.
The heat in my face turned into a full-on blush, and I ducked my head to try and hide it. “Sometimes I just feel like playing.”
“Did you write that song?”
“It’s not really a song. I was just playing what I felt.”
“You mean you made that up right there on the spot?” Why did he sound so awed?
I shrugged. “I mean, I could play it again. It’s not really made up.” Using a much softer tone, I couldn’t help but add, “It’s how I feel.”
“It was a melancholy tune.”
My head whipped up. “Was that an insult?”
His lips, which kinda always seemed puckered, stretched out with his smile. “Melancholy means sad.”
“Oh.”
“Your cheeks are pink,” he mused. “Are you blushing?”
“No!” I complained, ducking my head again. I forgot I was supposed to be hiding it.
“Cute.”
My head whipped up again. Did I hear him right? Did he just call me cute? “What?”
Sitting back, he cleared his throat. “Is something wrong? Is that why your song sounded so sad?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“You know Ivory just called me.” Ethan started, and I panicked.
“I lied to her!” I burst out, guilt washing over me. That was probably why my stomach felt so weird. “I didn’t mean to!”
Ethan paused, his head tipping slightly sideways. The wind blew, ruffling his blond hair. “You lied to her?”
“She knows, right? Is she mad? Oh man.” I started to worry. I didn’t want Ivory to be mad. “It was only a little white lie,” I told Ethan. “I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.”
Pursing his lips, he regarded me seriously. “What did you lie about?”
I blinked. “She didn’t tell you?”
“She would never break your confidence.”
I nodded. Of course she wouldn’t. “I told her I had to help out at the bar tonight, but I don’t. I just needed to get out of there.”
“Mmm.” Ethan made a sound. “And so you came here.”
“I don’t get to come here much because I live in the Grimms. I like it here, so I thought I’d stop by…”
“I don’t think Ivory knows you lied.”
“But you just said she told you!”
“I said she called me. I didn’t say we talked about you.”
“You tricked me!” I said, bolting upright.
The bow to my violin slid forward, and I gasped. Ethan caught it before it could even teeter off the bench. “How about you put this away where it’s safe?” he said, handing it to me. “You’re very clumsy.”
“I am not,” I argued but tugged the case into my lap, opening it to put away my violin.
“Ivory didn’t seem to know about the lie, but we did talk about you.”
I glanced up. “You did?”
Ethan made another sound of agreement. I liked the sounds he made. Kinda rumbly, kinda indulgent. Every time he made one, I wanted to lean closer.
“She said you rejected the offer I made to have you play at an upcoming business function I have.”
I felt my eyes widen. “One of those offers was from you?”
Surprise flickered on his face as he leaned back, propping up his elbow on the back of the bench. The fabric of his jacket sort of strained around his bicep. “You didn’t look at them?”
Does he work out? How is he so big? He’s bigger than all of my brothers.
Leaves rustled overhead with a particularly strong wind, making a few deep-colored leaves break free and lazily fall to the ground. A chill wrapped around me as the sky dimmed a bit, the sun hidden behind a cloud.
“You cold?” Ethan’s sharp voice snapped me out of my inner thoughts. I got lost in them a lot.
“Huh?” I asked this a lot too.
“I forgot it,” I told him, not even worried about the coat or the cold air. “You really wanted me to play at your event?”
Ethan sat forward, his knee almost brushing mine as he peeled the suit jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. Beneath, he was wearing a steel-gray dress shirt that looked a little shiny and a gleaming white silk tie.
“Wh—” Before I could even ask what he was doing, the jacket was draped around my shoulders, the warmth from his body seeping through the thin fabric of my T-shirt and causing actual goose bumps to rise along my arms.
“I don’t need this,” I protested, offended.
But I didn’t pull it off.
Ethan ignored my words just like I had, pulling the lapels closer under my chin and then smoothing it out over my shoulders.
“What would Ivory say if I let you get sick?” He spoke softly as though he was telling me a secret.
No one ever really spoke softly to me. Sometimes Ivory, but that was just her voice. My brothers were all loud and gruff. And Snort wasn’t named Snort because he was silent.
I laughed at the thought.
“What are you giggling about?” Ethan asked.
My eyes snapped up. “I wasn’t giggling!”
A blond brow arched over the glasses.
“We have a dog named Snort.” I laughed—not giggled—again.
After a moment of pause, Ethan settled back against the bench. “So why’d you turn me down?”
“I didn’t turn you down,” I hurried to say. The jacket slipped back on my shoulders with the force of my words, and I grasped it, pulling it tightly around myself once more.
The scent of pine with just a hint of something else, some spice, wafted up around my head, and I breathed in deep.
Without thinking much, I dipped my chin, pressing my nose into the collar of the jacket to breathe in deep. He smelled like Christmas, more specifically like the tree stand I helped out with last year in the Grimms.
“Are you smelling my jacket?”
A new fierce blush exploded across my cheeks, spreading to the back of my neck. “You stink.” I lied, feeling bad for it.
Prince Page 3