by Tara Randel
“That’s not how I remember it.” Lauren straightened her shoulders and looked away from Cassie.
“Oh, really? Did he make it to your first soccer game?”
“No.”
“Your high school graduation?”
“No.”
“College?”
Silence.
“The day you were honored at work as the first woman in your firm to receive the outstanding employee award?”
Lauren pressed her lips together.
“Yeah. Me, neither. Not my musical recitals or band performances.”
Her sister glared at her. “Just because he missed a few milestones doesn’t make him a bad father. He’s here now.”
A few? Cassie had a list. “Yes, but for how long?”
“Just because you were stubborn and didn’t make contact with him after your first album doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”
“Oh, he cares. As long as it benefits him.”
Cassie hadn’t heard from her father for years until her first album became popular. He called, texted, enlisted Lauren to try to make Cassie return his attempts to reach her. Why, when he didn’t have time for her before she gained popularity, would she reconnect with him now? Her loyalty remained with the mother who’d raised Cassie and her sister after he left, working two jobs and keeping a loving, stable home for her daughters.
“Let’s not argue,” Lauren said, reaching out to take her hand. “Not today.”
With a sigh, Cassie took her sister’s hand in hers. She loved Lauren dearly. Just because her sister was blinded by their father’s charm didn’t mean Cassie wanted them to fight. “I agree.” She might not want to be here, but was glad for some bonding time with Lauren while she was in Cypress Pointe.
The main dish of roasted chicken, grilled vegetables and risotto was superb, but after a few bites, and the nausea that followed, Cassie picked at her food. Her stomach was twisted in a perpetual knot lately, making it hard to keep anything down. If she didn’t get over this writer’s block soon, she’d be physically sick as well as out of a career.
The guest sitting next to her left his seat and within seconds her father took his place. She tried not to stiffen, but too many years of bad blood couldn’t be denied.
“Nice reception, Dad.”
A shadow passed over her father’s eyes. “Thank you. I’m glad you could make it, Cassandra.”
“Why can’t you call me Cassie like everyone else?”
“It’s your given name.”
She stretched her neck back and forth, working out the tension.
An awkward moment passed.
“How is work on the new album going?” he asked.
“We’re in the early stages so I’ve mostly been thinking about the project.”
She spoke the truth. Coming up with songs was all she thought about.
“You should make significant changes this time. The sound on your last album wasn’t exactly you.”
She met his gaze, a forest green, as similarly striking as her own. “I’m aware, so yes, I’m going to make changes.”
He nodded, pleased his sage words brought some clarity to her decision-making. Even when she was a kid he was always critical, whether it was her piano form or music style.
“Perhaps I can have a small musical part on your next release. I have been known to play the piano quite well.”
She blinked. “Come again?”
“It would be fun. Father and daughter making music together. Remember when you were young and I taught you to play the keyboard? It can be that way again.”
Fun? Cassie shivered as a memory unfolded in her mind. She was ten, waiting for one of her father’s infrequent trips home.
“Daddy. You’re home. I did it! I wrote a song.”
Robert dropped his suitcase as Cassie grabbed his hand, dragging him to the piano.
“I did it, just like you said.”
“Can’t this wait, Cassandra?” Impatience tinged his tone. “I just walked in the door.”
“Please. Just listen.”
He sighed. “Very well.”
Cassie jumped on the piano stool, made room for him beside her and began to play, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she sang about flowers and puppies and summertime. When the song came to an end, she waited for his critique, her heart pounding. “Well?”
“Keep at it, sweetheart. One day you’ll get better.”
Then he rose from the bench and walked away.
Was he serious? She searched his expression but he seemed sincere. Like years of estrangement didn’t matter and they could become buddies overnight?
“To be honest, I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Let me know. I’m always willing to share my talent with those who need it.”
Those who need it? How about to get his name in the limelight? That sounded more plausible.
She couldn’t continue this conversation. Taking her napkin from her lap, she folded it and set it beside her plate. “Please excuse me. I have to go...somewhere.”
Robert rose and pulled back her chair. “Of course. Save a dance for me.”
With a nod she took hold of her beaded clutch bag and skirted the table, not sure which direction to head. The string quartet moved off the stage to pack up while another band set up for the reception entertainment. Too bad. She’d enjoyed the chamber music.
Work that sound into a song.
She stopped short. Could it be? Her muse finally making an appearance? But just as quickly as the thought flickered through her mind, it vanished.
She stood still near the slightly raised platform set aside for the band, her mind in turmoil. Hot tears burned her eyelids. Not now. Not here.
With clumsy fingers, she opened her clutch, searching for a tissue. Dabbing her eyes, she slowly steadied her breath. A masculine voice sounded beside her.
“Are you okay?”
Hoping her mascara hadn’t run, she turned to find a man with shaggy dark blond hair smiling at her. Dressed in black slacks and a white button-down shirt, his chocolate-brown eyes held a hint of concern. Flustered, she couldn’t find her words.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you, but you looked upset.”
She waved her hand. “It’s nothing. You know, weddings.”
His brow rose.
“The emotion and all.”
“Right.”
“It’s my dad’s special day.”
“Congratulations.” He paused, then his gaze moved to the platform and back. “I need to get to work.”
“Work?”
“Wedding band.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
“No problem. Enjoy the rest of the reception.”
“Thanks,” she said as he moved away. Was it her imagination or did he look familiar? She hadn’t been back to town in years, not since her mother and stepfather settled in Cypress Pointe her freshman year of high school. Did she know him from school?
With athletic ease, the man leaped onto the platform, then removed his guitar from a case. He set the instrument in a stand by his feet before moving the case behind the curtain backdrop along the wall. When he finally lifted the strap over his head and plugged in his guitar, it hit her.
Luke Hastings. Only one of the best songwriters in the music industry. A four-time Grammy winner. A man who’d churned out hits before retiring to parts unknown at the height of his career. He’d been in Cypress Pointe all this time?
She’d seen pictures of him in tabloids and magazines, but never paid attention to his handsome features. In person, he made her breath hitch. Which surprised her more? That he lived in her old hometown or that she’d never noticed how good-looking he was? Both, actually. She’d worked wi
th plenty of guys in LA, yet not one made her head turn like Luke did.
“Hey, what’s up with you?” her sister asked as she came up beside her.
“Do you know who he is?” She covertly pointed at Luke.
“Yeah. Luke. He’s a teacher at C.P. High.”
Cassie twirled on her sister. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“About a teacher? Why would you care?”
“Because he’s Luke Hastings.”
Her sister still looked confused. “So?”
“So. So? He’s only a genius songwriter.”
Lauren looked up at the stage, head tilted. “Huh.”
“Huh. That’s all, just huh?”
“Cassie, I work in finance. I don’t know songwriters. That’s your area.”
Cassie glanced over her shoulder, her heart thumping double time. “He’s only a hero of mine. I started writing music after I heard ‘Won’t You Love Me Always.’”
“I remember that song. You used to drive me crazy singing it nonstop.”
She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “He wrote the lyrics.”
Lauren shrugged. “So goody. You get to meet your idol.”
Cassie went blank. “Meet him?”
“Well, yeah. He’s here. You’re here. Go introduce yourself.”
Did she dare? He’d left the business for a reason. Besides, he was working. Maybe he didn’t want her fawning all over him.
“I... He...”
“You’d better come up with better lyrics than that,” her sister advised as she swooshed off across the room.
Cassie slowly turned. Made her way to the wall where she slumped against it while the wheels turned in her mind. Luke Hastings, a man she’d admired for his song-crafting ability, in the same room as she. Did she dare introduce herself? What did she have to lose?
* * *
LUKE HASTINGS LOOKED up from a quick tuning to find the pretty woman he’d spoken to leaning against the wall. She stared at him, as if she’d seen a ghost.
He might as well be, at least in the music industry. He’d walked away from a lucrative career, turned his back on the one thing he loved most in his life, writing music. Sought refuge in this small town after a public divorce cut his heart and soul to shreds. Yeah, he was a ghost and intended on keeping it that way.
“Luke, did you bring the extra music in case we get requests?” his buddy Ryan asked from his position behind the keyboard.
The band had practiced the bride and groom’s preselected songs, which Luke could play with his eyes closed, but they always kept backup for the odd song a reception guest requested. Luke set his Mac computer on the stand beside him and booted it up. After a few clicks, the music program opened and the band synced together.
“Got it.” Luke glanced over at the drums. “Where’s Sonny?”
Ryan scanned the room then smiled. “Hitting on one of the guests.”
Luke chuckled. “He does know we’re starting in five?”
“Yeah.” Ryan waved. “Here he comes.”
Sonny jumped onto the stage and held up his cell, a goofy grin stretching his lips. “I got her number.”
Brian, the bass player, slapped him on the back. “Great. You can call her when we’re finished.”
“Dude, you’re killing me.”
Luke nodded to the empty seat behind the drums. “You have a job to do.”
Sonny stepped over the amp chords and picked up his sticks.
Luke loved his buddies like brothers, but sometimes he had to rein them in. Sonny constantly looked for a girlfriend, Ryan constantly worried over money since he’d recently become a new dad, and Brian, well, if he were any more laid-back, he’d be asleep. Luke was the glue that held this small wedding band, Sandy Palms, together.
“Hey, who’s the cutie you were talking to?” Sonny asked Luke. “Maybe I can get her number, too.”
“Daughter of the groom.”
“She got a name?”
“Yeah. Sit your butt down and play.”
Sonny frowned. “That’s not a very nice name.”
Luke shook his head. “Please, sit. We’re about to start.”
Sonny took his place and before long, the group started the first song of the set. A few people made their way to the dance floor. Others mingled or finished their meal. After the second song, Luke spoke into the microphone.
“Welcome, everyone, to the wedding reception of the newly married Robert and Angelica Branford. Let’s give them a big round of applause as they have their first dance as a married couple.”
The smiling couple came forward, dancing to a special song picked out by the bride. Since the couple were the parents, the next dance included the daughters. Luke watched the woman he’d spoken to skirt around her father to dance with the bride, not missing the frown on her father’s face at her evasive move. Soon, though, Luke’s attention shifted back to the song. Before long others filled the dance floor. They played five more songs, then took a break.
“I’m off,” Sonny said, jumping from the stage, in search of Miss Right.
Ryan pulled his cell from his pocket. “I need to call Julie. Check on the baby.”
Brian shrugged. “Guess I’ll get a drink.”
As his band members dispersed, Luke unplugged his guitar. He normally didn’t mingle when they played a gig. Most folks in town had heard his history, but for the most part they knew him as a local teacher and left him alone, which suited him fine. He’d put together the band as a musical outlet and as a way for him and his buddies to earn extra cash.
“Excuse me?”
He glanced over to find the daughter of the groom looking up at him, noticing first her striking green eyes, made a deeper shade by the emerald dress she wore, then the indecision written all over her features. “Can I help you?”
“I think so. I hope so, anyway.” She bit her lower lip, then said, “You’re Luke Hastings.”
Great. He knew by her tone she recognized him as the songwriter, not the teacher. “That’s right.”
Her tentative smile spread, lighting up the deep green hue. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
Here we go. “You’ve heard of Sandy Palms, have you?”
Her smile faded and she blinked. He’d thrown her off, just as he’d hoped. “Sandy Palms?”
“Our band.”
“Um, honestly, no. I’m not from around here. I mean, not any longer.”
She didn’t move and he guessed more small talk would be coming.
“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to get ready for the next set.”
“Oh, of course.”
And of course he’d hurt her feelings. He really wanted to see the sparkle return to those amazing eyes.
“Wait.” He stepped from the platform. “Do you play?”
“Yes. I’m—”
“Let me guess. A songwriter?”
“At times.”
He chuckled. “Either you are or aren’t.”
“At this moment in time, no.”
“As opposed to other moments?”
She shrugged, the light in her eyes dimming. He tilted his head, intrigued. Then straightened. Stop, his inner voice scolded. He didn’t need a female distraction.
Still, it had been a long time since he’d been floored by a woman’s eyes.
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” she was saying. “I’m a fan and wanted to say hi.”
“You have me at a disadvantage.”
“I’m Cassie Branford.” After a slight hesitation, she held out her hand.
“Well, Cassie, nice meeting you.” He took her hand in his, surprised by the zing accompanying the gesture.
“No, the pleasure is all mine. I remembe
r—”
She stopped when her father approached, losing the airiness from just a second ago. She broke the connection, leaving him bummed that he hadn’t heard more.
“Mr. Branford,” he greeted the groom. “Congratulations.”
The man barely acknowledged him, focused instead on his daughter.
“Cassandra, you aren’t thinking of joining the band for a number, are you?”
Number? What was he talking about?
“No. I was just talking to Luke.”
Mr. Branford looked Luke over, sizing him up in a less than complimentary manner.
“You do know who my daughter is?” he asked, condescension oozing from the man.
Glancing at the woman again, it struck him. With a name to go with the face, he recognized Cassie. He might not be part of the music scene anymore, but he wasn’t dead. Still, with her hair up and wearing a dress that hugged her curves, she didn’t portray the confident woman from pop magazine pictures. Her signature braid, a different color always running through it, was missing at the moment, which had thrown him off.
“Dad. Not now.”
“Well, if you’re going to play he should know. Let you take the lead.”
“Know what?” He should have been paying better attention to the vibe around him, because a sinking feeling warned him all was not right.
Cassie shifted and said, “I’m not playing with the band.”
“You should.”
Luke met her gaze. Read the discomfort there.
“So you’re a professional musician?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Cassandra is a successful popular music artist,” her father boasted. “You both have many things in common.”
Heat flushed through Luke. The protective wall he’d cultivated over the years to keep his old life locked away rose as Cassie’s uncertain smile returned. As much as he tried to maintain a low profile, people from the industry found him from time to time. Granted, Cassie was merely a guest at her father’s wedding, but old habits were hard to ignore. Better to stop this intrusion before it went any further.
“I doubt it.”
Cassie flinched at his tone. “I only wanted to ask about your ca—”
“I’m not part of the industry any longer. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”