by Jae Dawson
I made my way out of the store, chuckling to myself. Bella would make me pay for this stunt, no doubt. And I didn’t mind one bit.
I tapped an imaginary watch at her from the window, reminding her that I had a date with Gramps and a pin-up puzzle girl. She threw her hands into the air once more and then stomped toward the entry door. I couldn’t stop my laughter and busted even harder when she shoved me down the sidewalk and away from her mother’s shop, an angry rhythm to her steps and a slitted glare turned my way.
Who knew putting up fliers could be so much fun?
Chapter Twelve
Bella
I was a sucker for a guy with a guitar. I couldn’t resist the draw, the way my gaze wandered over to wherever Cade sat, his head bent down, eyes closed, his hair falling over his face, his fingers lightly strumming a minor key melody. Ever since Cade started bringing his lovely, dark, chocolatey-delicious Taylor to rehearsal, I struggled to focus.
Not wanting to get caught staring, I smiled at my students who were passing by Cade toward the exit after another stellar but draining rehearsal.
Cade’s fingers paused on the strings and his head lifted. A soft smile tilted his lips up. As they ambled by, Cade gave fist bumps or up-nods, along with personalized praise by name.
“Brittany, you are killing that high E—”
“Bryce, way to nail every single line today.”
“Paloma, Broadway is quaking in their boots right now!”
When the last of my students trickled out the back doors, grinning and chattering, I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall by his chair.
He turned and blinked, smoothing back his hair in an unconscious motion I recognized as a nervous tic. “What?”
I tilted my head. “You know, if you get sick of the music industry, you should embrace the glamorous lifestyle of a teacher. The all-day staff meetings are lit. The teacher lounge is an endless curriculum planning party. So hot.”
“Too hot of a scene for me.”
“Seriously, though. You’re so good with the kids.”
“Nah. It’s the celebrity status.” He leaned back into his seat. “What you do, how you have to earn their respect? Way harder.”
“As a mere mortal?” I arched an eyebrow.
He closed his eyes for a long blink and sighed. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Mr. Owens, you’re too easy.” I winked and his lips twisted into a mock ill-humored smirk. “Still . . .” I continued, dragging out the word. “I think you’d make a good teacher. Just look at Jeremy, especially this past week.”
Jeremy began emerging from behind the AV booth to interact with other students—helping to move sets between scenes, picking up props, even assisting with curtain duties. Plus, he was killing it with the lights and sound.
Cade fingerpicked a couple of strings and murmured, “He just needed someone to give a shit.” A crease appeared between his brows.
What was that look about?
My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I nearly jumped.
It was Casie, my friend who worked at Maple Lane. Cade continued to lightly strum a melody, and so I walked up the aisle a bit, to give myself privacy, in case Casie didn’t have good news.
I slid “answer” across my screen.
“Bella?” Casie’s voice was cheerful, as usual. I smiled. My spunky, spritely redheaded friend always lifted my mood, even if I was already soaring high. Her endless sincerity, optimism, and humor were infectious.
The day we met, I had stumbled into the Sweet Flower Bakery, desperate for a warm cinnamon roll and espresso to ease my new school year jitters. I had just moved to Hartwood Falls the week prior and everything in my life was a mess: my house, my classroom, my heart. The next thing I knew, I was sitting with the friendliest person I had ever met—so sweet, my cinnamon roll tasted bland in comparison. As a New Yorker, I’d been so startled by her friendliness that I hadn’t even questioned her insistence to chat over coffee with a perfect stranger. And the very next weekend, I had joined her and her girlfriends bike riding along the Ironhorse trail, all the way past Silver Firs. Those women quickly became my best friends in Hartwood—Casie, Holly, and Gabby.
“Hey Casie,” I said quietly, knowing my voice could easily carry in the auditorium. “How’s it going?”
“I have some good news for you!” she cooed. “Well, for that sexy-as-hell man you get to canoodle with.”
“Who uses the word ‘canoodle?’” I looked back at Cade, hoping he couldn’t hear Casie’s voice from where he sat. Or mine. But his head was bent over his guitar again, his fingers softly strumming across the strings. “We’re not,” I lowered my voice even more, “canoodling!”
“Not yet,” Casie giggled.
I rolled my eyes. In my dreams. “What’s your news?”
“Right. There’s a resident with a two-bedroom apartment who’s looking for a roommate. His name is Walter and he’s really wonderful. Cade’s grandfather could live with him and be first on the list to get his own apartment when one opens up.”
“Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack,” Casie said, and in a way that made heart attacks sound delightful. “Cade and his Grandpa could visit any time on Saturday, to tour the facility and meet Walter. I’ll be working, so I can show them around too.”
“And meet Cade?” I grinned. I suppose I didn’t blame her.
“If I happen to meet Cade Owens as part of my professional duties, then I shall bear my heavy responsibility with honor and dignity.” She paused a beat. “And keep all my naughty thoughts to myself.” I could hear the struggle to keep a straight face in her voice.
“You’re terrible. Hold on. Hey Cade!” I called out, putting my hand over the phone receiver. “You free Saturday to check out Maple Lane with your grandfather?”
“Are you serious?” Cade swiveled in his seat.
“As a heart attack,” I parroted Casie’s line.
“You’re with him right now?” Casie squealed on the other end.
“We are definitely free,” Cade answered.
“They’ll be there,” I told Casie. “Thank you, hon! Gotta go.” I hung up the phone before Casie could pepper me with more questions.
“There’s really a spot for Gramps?”
Gramps?
My heart fluttered right before it melted. I was about to become a complete puddle, so I sauntered down to the row where he sat and quickly explained the situation.
“Bella, I seriously owe you one.” Cade placed one hand over his heart and bowed his head. “Whatever you ask of me, my lady.”
I waved his melodramatic praise away. “It’s nothing. I just called a friend.”
“Still. Thank you.” Fingers of ambient stage lights caressed the planes of his face and spun gold through the locks of his hair. I longed to run my fingers through those strands, down his cheek, his neck, then trace the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. Cade lifted a brow. “Ready to go?”
Yes.
No!
Ugh.
I wanted to prolong our time together. Soak up the vision he made beneath the stage lights, cradling his guitar. Revel in his music, his voice . . . him. What was happening to me? I couldn’t fall for him. I refused to fall for him. He would be leaving at the end of his sentence, anyway. And I wasn’t a hook-up or summer romance kinda gal. Or fall romance. Whatever. My heart was overcomplicating things, like usual. Still, I couldn’t look away.
Cade’s eyes flitted to mine again and his brow lifted higher. Shoot! I hadn’t answered him. Well, that was awkward. A little late to appear natural now, but I would try. Spinning on my heel, I gracefully sank into a velvet seat in the row before Cade’s, and then pointed at his guitar.
“Your guitar is beautiful.”
Cade stroked the curves of his instrument with a loving hand and I hungrily watched the tips of his fingers as they trailed each line. A flush of heat rolled through me and settled in my core. What would it feel lik
e to have those calloused fingertips caress other curves—my curves?
“Flattery will get you everywhere with Bob.”
“Huh?” I started at the sound of his voice. Then his words faded through my dream-hazed mind. “Bob?”
Cade gestured to me, then to his guitar. “Bella, meet Bob.”
Gramps? Bob? He was killing me.
I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back the forming grin. It was cute that he named his guitar. Like a teenager who named their car. “You’ve had that guitar from the beginning, right? Do you ever play anything else?”
“Cheat on Bob? Never. Once you find something you love . . .” He paused, his voice growing softer, “. . . nothing else compares.”
His dark blue eyes fixed on me. My pulse stuttered a beat. I was pretty sure my breath was trembling too.
The man was beautiful.
The kind of beautiful you need to touch because you’re sure such perfection isn’t real. And not just beautiful. But generous. Funny. Intelligent.
Kind.
Well, when he wasn’t being a snarky asshat.
Our days together were skipping away, and my heart squeezed. I would miss having him around. Our rehearsal and our drives home had become my favorite parts of each week.
Cade raised that mocking eyebrow of his at me—again. “You know, only a Burning Umbrage fan would know that I never play anything but Bob.”
My face heated. I did not want to admit that Burning Umbrage was one of my favorite bands. “Do I get to hear what you’re working on? Seems like a small payment for babysitting you for six weeks.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I could swallow them back. I hadn’t made a pointed joke like that since our first week together.
Hurt flashed in his eyes, but he covered it with a lazy grin. “Not much to share.”
“Cade, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. You’ve been so helpful—”
He held up a hand. “It’s fine.”
I bit my lip, feeling like a jerk. “So, your song. It’s not done?”
“It’s almost done.” Cade tossed me a half-smile. “I just need the first verse, second verse, chorus, melody, and bridge.”
“Ugh. Writer’s block.”
“Yeah, ever since Gran . . .” His smile faltered. “My muse has quit.”
“How have you dealt with stuff like this in the past?”
He shrugged. “My songs have always flowed pretty easily.”
Ah, that explained why he was struggling. “My composition teacher told me to get moving. Physical movement increases blood flow to the brain. When I’m struggling with a mental problem, I dance. It always shakes something loose.”
He grinned. “You want me to dance?”
“Ballet, yes.” My lips twitched. “In a leotard for better flexibility.”
“What?” He threw his head back and laughed.
“I’ll even play the piano for you. No time like the present.” I nodded toward the stage, somehow still keeping my face schooled.
Cade rested his chin on the body of his guitar. “And kill the fantasy for you?”
“Fantasize about you?” I rolled my eyes. “You wish.”
“Maybe I do.”
My pulsed stuttered a beat once more. And I couldn’t meet his eyes. Wouldn’t. I didn’t want to know if he was teasing or if he was gazing at me the same way he had after confessing his love for Bob.
Get a grip, Pagano.
Of course, he was teasing. He was Cade Owens. Flirting was second nature to him.
I needed to break this imagined attraction building between us, and now. Before Mamma felt my ovaries bursting with just a simple glance his way. And she would. I know it. I couldn’t stomach another sex advice chat from her.
“All right.” I jumped up and clapped my hands. “Come on. It can be as simple as walking.”
He sighed, setting Bob down gently in his case, then stood.
“Follow me.” I started walking backwards up the aisle.
He obliged.
“Okay, so where are you with your song? Where are you stuck?”
“I think I have the melody.” He hummed a little six note lick in a minor key, lovely and haunting. “And I have the start of the first verse.” He cleared his throat, hesitating.
“Come on, out with it.” I looked behind me and turned right, now walking backwards across the back of the auditorium.
Cade sang out and goosebumps prickled down my arms. His voice. That smokey, emotive-filed voice quivered inside me and shuddered through my heart.
“Falling in my dark, it was you I found.
Moon touched angel, you brought the light crashing down.
Trapped in a cage, fighting to be free
You’re my silvered poison and my gilded key.”
I blinked, trying to slow my rapid breathing. Oh gawd. I hope I wasn’t panting. It felt like I was panting.
“I like it,” I said, my voice a pitch higher than normal. And embarrassingly breathy. “Dark becoming bright. Something about seeing? Maybe a chorus lead-in here?” My mind flitted over words and lyrics.
“A blinding vision
Illuminated
My heart is shouting
Obliterated.”
I chuckled nervously. “Or something like tha—”
“Woah, watch out!”
Cade grabbed my waist, spinning me against his body. My hands gripped his hard shoulders, my face flush with his chest. The breath left me. Truly, dramatically left me this time. This close, I could see the rings of silver around his sunset blue eyes, the blond stubble on the planes of his cheeks. He smelled of warm rain and cool moonlight. Of falling leaves and promises and . . .
Heartbreak.
“You almost tripped over the projector,” Cade said softly.
“Right,” I whispered. Then I remembered myself. “Right!” I patted his chest, trying desperately not to think about how firm and delicious his pec felt under the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “Thanks.”
“Sing that lead-in again? I liked it.”
I started walking once more, facing forward this time. It definitely would not do to trip over something and go tumbling like a moron in front of Cade. I tried to remember the words I sang before Cade’s presence totally bewitched me. “Um . . .
A blinding vision
Illuminated
My heart is shouting
Obliterated.”
Cade sang it all together and jogged down the aisle to grab Bob, slipping the guitar strap over his head. He strummed a chord and then picked out the little melody, striding up onto stage while singing. He did it as naturally as breathing. Me, however? I was still struggling to find my breath. And that struggle was growing harder by the second.
Falling in my dark, it was you I found.
Moon touched angel, you brought the light crashing down.
Trapped in a cage, fighting to be free
You’re my silvered poison and my gilded key.
* * *
A blinding vision
Illuminated
My heart is shouting
Obliterated.”
He looked up from the guitar, his eyes shining. “Bella, that’s brilliant. What else you got?”
I walked up the stairs on shaky feet and, by the Universe’s good will, made it to the piano and eased onto the bench. I was playing music with Cade Owens.
No.
I was making music with Cade Owns.
A forming knot in my throat grew tighter and I squeaked out, “You need more verses?”
What the hell was wrong with me? It wasn’t him, the celebrity who had me all worked up. It was him, the man whose eyes were now blazing with creative fire, whose face was flushed from breakthrough excitement. Stretching my fingers, I rested them on the keys and then plunked out a haunting chord progression I thought would go nicely with his minor key melody. “Does he get the girl, or is this a song of unrequited love?”
I glanced up to find Cade’s lips slightly par
ted, his stare intense and heady. My fingers faltered on the keys. “Cade?”
He looked away and stared into the dark auditorium, a little too quickly, as if he’d been caught. The fingers of his left hand danced over the strings—though he wasn’t playing. Working out something in his mind, then. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his eyes closed for a few wild beats of my thrumming pulse. Finally, he looked up, and there was a strange tone in his voice when he replied, “I don’t know if he gets the girl.”
Breathe . . .
I replied with forced levity. “A mystery then. We can work with that. How about looping the pattern from verse one?” I played the chords again and sang.
“Lost in the spotlight, it was you I found.
Moon touched angel, you brought the night crashing down.”
Cade’s voice joined with my last note, an aching harmony that made my stomach clench.
“Trapped in a nightmare, fighting to be free
You’re my silvered poison, my gilded key.”
Cade started strumming his guitar, adding chords and a more complicated melody on top of the basic lick he had laid out. I joined on the piano, grinning as we both sang the verses and chorus lead-in again, this time with me taking the harmony.
When the notes fell silent, Cade gave a gentle “huh” under his breath.
“What do you think?” I asked lightly. I couldn’t account for how badly I wanted him to like it. How badly I wanted to keep playing with him. How badly I wanted him.
“My muse has returned.” He offered me an easy grin. “Got any more lyrics for me?”
I grinned back. “On one condition.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re never to visit my mother’s store again.”
Cade laughed. “But she’s so fun.”
“Say it.”
His lips curved into a devilish smirk.
“Won’t work on me, Mr. Owens. Say. It.”
He drew in a long-suffering breath. “Fine. I won’t visit your mother’s store again.”