Sun & Moon: An Inspirational Contemporary Romance (A Guitar Girl Romance Book 1)

by Hope Franke

  Katja did as instructed, scraping the sliced vegetables from the cutting board into the pan.

  “You just need to keep stirring them so they don’t burn.”

  Katja nodded and gave the vegetables a whirl. “What about the tomatoes?”

  “Those go on top, later. Fresh, not cooked.” Micah pulled a bottle of wine out of one of the bags. “For the lady.” He opened it and poured Katja a glass.

  She raised an eyebrow. “You were pretty certain I’d say yes to this invitation?”

  He shrugged while pouring himself a glass of sparkling water. “I figured I had a fifty-fifty chance.”

  The frying pan sizzled and Micah instructed, “Keep stirring.”

  Katja did as told. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Did your mother like Greta?”

  Micah paused until she looked at him. “No, she didn’t. If that makes you feel better. My mother is always rude.”

  It did, in fact, make her feel better. She was glad to know she wasn’t the only one on the receiving end of Frau Sturm’s disapproval.

  “The water’s ready for the pasta,” Micah said. He opened the bag and handed it to Katja. “You may do the honors.”

  Katja smiled, despite herself, and poured the contents in. “How long do you cook it?”

  “About ten minutes,” Micah said. He checked the package and nodded. “Italians like to undercook it by three minutes and then cook it with the sauce for the remaining three. The pasta captures the flavors of the sauce, that way.”

  Katja was impressed. “How did you learn to cook?” She couldn’t imagine his mother stepping foot into a kitchen.

  “We had professional cooks. I wanted to learn, so they taught me.”

  He had cooks. She had a mother who could barely pull herself out of bed.

  “It helps to set a timer,” Micah added, winking. “Especially if you find yourself distracted by a song demanding to be written or a picture insisting on being sketched.” He set the timer and then handed her a spoon. “You need to stir it once in a while.”

  Micah pulled the foil lid off a small plastic container. “Now to add crème and a bit of salt and pepper to the vegetables.”

  Katja found it increasingly difficult to pull her gaze away from her teacher. Men who knew their way around a kitchen were titillating. Her pulse jumped as she watched him, and she felt herself flush. “So, what’s left?” she asked, trying to distract herself.

  “The cheese. Many people like Parmesan, but I prefer sheep cheese. It adds a nice tang.” He sliced a piece off the block and handed it to Katja. “You can grate it.”

  Micah produced a grater, and Katja began the process of shredding the cheese onto a plate. Micah made no attempt to hide the fact he was staring at her.

  “Don’t do that,” she said.

  “Do what?”

  “You know what.”

  “I want to kiss you.”

  She dropped the cheese and dared to glance at him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  He stepped closer, forcing her to back up against the counter. “I think it’s a great idea.”

  Oh, Lord, she really wanted him to kiss her, but it was still a really, really bad idea. Her pulse raged, and her body flooded with warmth. Her throat grew dry. Maybe just one kiss. She heard herself say, “Perhaps it’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

  Yes it was! What was she thinking? It was a terrible, terrible idea!

  He pressed his mouth to her ear, his breath causing tremors that would break the Richter scale. “Admit it. It’s an incredible idea.”

  She gulped, wanting nothing more than to grab him by the shirt and pull him to her. “Maybe it’s not so bad,” she whispered.

  “Not so bad works for me.” Micah’s lips found hers, and Katja was sure the kitchen floor had cracked open. She was falling, helpless. She grabbed his head and returned the kiss, urgently taking him in.

  Then she remembered her oath to leave.

  She’d told him he had until Tuesday to change her mind, and here she was madly kissing him on Monday night.

  Did she have no willpower at all? Had she changed her mind about what she should do so easily? Tomorrow, she’d still be the poor girl chasing a dream, and he’d still be the rich boy with every advantage. And with a domineering mother who scared the crap out of her. Frau Sturm would always be trying to break them up, and eventually she would win. She and Micah had too much working against them.

  She had to be stronger than this.

  She placed a palm against his chest and pushed gently. “Micah…”

  He tapped a finger to her lips. “You promised me until Tuesday.”

  “That’s tomorrow.”

  “Then I have you until tomorrow.”

  She quivered under his touch. She would leave tomorrow, but she knew beyond a doubt that Micah would have her heart for much longer. She ran fingers along the roughness of his jaw, drank in his face, his eyes, the curls on his head. She was memorizing him. Something told her she’d be living in this moment forever.

  “I love you, Katja.”

  Her heart stopped. Then she kissed him again and didn’t quit until the timer went.

  They ate dinner by candlelight and spent the night curled up together on the sofa bed. Micah remained in control, and she was glad he’d enforced a slow pace. Especially since she still didn’t know if staying with him was the right thing to do.

  Tuesday arrived, and even though she went through the motions of packing, she didn’t leave. It wasn’t a clear win for Micah, and they both knew it. Despite their passion, Katja wasn’t convinced she’d made the right choice, yet the longer she stayed the deeper she sank. By the weekend, she knew she was a prisoner to Micah, no matter what his rules were, no matter how torn her heart would be when the end came.

  Saturday brought a welcome diversion from her emotional torment in the form of Jonas’s art festival. It was held outdoors at the foot of the pedestrian zone called Neustädter Markt by the Golden Horseman statue. Katja had gotten hired to play music on a small stage while people meandered through the artwork and crafts displayed there.

  It was within walking distance from their flat, and Micah insisted on carrying her guitar. “It makes me feel cool,” he joked.

  Katja laughed. “It makes you look cool.”

  He purposefully bumped into her. “Then I’ll just have to carry it for you all the time.”

  It was a warm, sunny day with clear blue skies, and the fair was full of people taking in the show. Jonas waved her over when he saw her.

  “Hey, Jonas,” she said. “How’s it going?”

  “Pretty good.” Jonas beamed his boyish grin. “Already sold one painting.”

  “That’s great,” Katja said. She motioned to Micah. “This is …” Again, she didn’t know what to call him and settled for just his name. “Micah.”

  They shook hands and Katja looked around for Renata. “Is your mother here?”

  “Not yet. She’ll stop by later.”

  Katja took a moment to look at Jonas’s work before setting up. “He’s good,” she said to Micah. He nodded his head. “Who knew there were so many talented people in the world?” He squeezed her shoulders. “Here I thought you were the only one.”

  She swatted his arm. “You’re such a sap.”

  He laughed. “Do you need any help?”

  “It’s just me and my guitar. I think I can manage, but thanks.”

  The small stage had a sound system set up. The guy managing it ran her through a short sound check. “It’s all yours,” he said.

  “I’m going to be here a while,” Katja said to Micah.

  “I’ll have a look around and then go home,” he said. “We’ll meet up later?”

  She nodded and took the stage, sitting on the stool provided there. She’d play mostly instrumentals, unless a group gathered wanting to listen to her sing. She was fine either way. She smiled as she watched Jonas cha
tting up admirers of his work. Though young and geeky looking, he had a self-confidence and charm that would go a long way. Renata had done a good job.

  Micah caught her eye and pointed at a canvas. Katja nodded and mouthed, It’s good. Micah smiled and surprised her by picking it up and handing several bills to Jonas.

  She watched as he walked away with a new painting under his arm. She loved that he supported Jonas by purchasing one.

  She loved him.

  It was true. She was hopelessly snared. Ignoring the truth wouldn’t change it. She felt surprisingly light about her admission. A smile threatened to take over her face. She chewed on her lip ring and tried to stay focused on her playing.

  She spotted another familiar face in the crowd. Maurice was there, checking out the pottery. It was strange to see him around town milling about. She only ever saw him at the Blue Note. He followed the music and eventually spotted the source. He drew closer.

  “Ma Cherie,” he called out. “I should’ve known it was you. You play exquisitely.”

  She laughed and blew him a kiss.

  If only Renata were here. She’d love to introduce them. Maurice and Renata had become two of her most favorite people.

  Katja finished her two-hour set and collected her pay. Micah wasn’t home when she got back, and she felt the emptiness. He hadn’t mentioned his plans for the day, only that they’d meet up later. She put her guitar away and rested on the sofa.

  The art show had inspired her so she pulled her sketch pad out. Her eyes were drawn to the sketch of Micah that hung on the formerly locked door. She lifted herself from her cross-legged position on the sofa and carefully removed the drawing, taking it into the bathroom where she stood staring at her image in the mirror.

  She poised her pencil over the shadowy area beside the drawing of Micah’s head and began to rapidly pencil in the lines of her face. She made her eyes bright and her mouth turned up with amusement. Her image looked mischievous and happy, her gaze directed at Micah.

  She propped up the sketch and stood back to examine it. Yes, it said what she wanted it to say, that she admired and adored him. She signed it: I love you, K, and hung it back up on the door.

  She fell asleep on the sofa and awoke to Micah lifting her legs and sitting down under them.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” he said. He took one of her feet and rubbed it.

  “Oh, that feels good.”

  “I knew you were keeping me around for something.” He switched to the other one.

  “I thought you were keeping me around.”

  Her eyes darted to the revised sketch on the wall, and Micah followed her gaze. He slipped out from under her, walked over to view it and tilted his head. His hand went to his chin and he rubbed the shadow of his beard. “Hmm. It’s charming, yet bold. The artist has a way with a pencil, crafting shadow and light. Brilliant, actually.”

  Katja laughed at Micah’s poor attempt at mimicking an art critic. “I’m glad you like it.”

  His dark, simmering gaze locked with hers. “I don’t just like it. I love it.”

  Katja blushed and pursed her lips to suppress a girlish giggle.

  Micah returned and pulled her up onto his lap. His lips brushed against her ear and he whispered, “I think you should kiss me now. Kiss me good.”

  She reached for his face, tracing his jaw with her fingertip, and met his lips with hers. They were warm and soft, and she trembled as his tongue played with her lip ring. He ran his fingers lightly over her temples, and she responded in kind, holding his head, and running fingers through his curls. She pulled back to gaze at his face and lost herself in the love she saw there. Then she tucked herself under his arm, feeling safe and secure—something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  “Are you getting hungry?” he asked.

  “A little.”

  “I’m starved. Let’s start dinner.”

  They’d been cooking together since her first lesson, and every night Micah taught her something new.

  “What’s on the menu tonight?” she asked.

  “Something simple. Mushroom soup. Just add water.”

  Micah paused at the table and picked up the fruit bowl that was nearly overflowing with coins and bills from Katja’s earnings. “This is not your usual center piece.” He handed it to Katja. “Please take this to your bank.”

  Katja shook her head. “It’s my contribution to the rent.”

  “Katja, I have enough money. I had no problem paying the rent before you came.”

  “What about groceries?”

  “I also ate before you came. And you don’t exactly eat that much. Besides, I prefer your company to eating alone. You’re doing me a favor.”

  Katja sighed and accepted the bowl. “Thank you.”

  Micah smiled. “No problem. I need somewhere to put the fruit.”

  Katja had the morning shift the next day and she made sure to leave with enough time to get there early. She enjoyed having time to make small talk with Renata before jumping into the fray of taking orders, foaming milk, cleaning the display case and wiping tables. She loved the aroma that hit her face as she walked in the door. Sweet scents of sugar and cinnamon combined with the stronger, stark aroma of rich, fresh brewed coffee.

  She greeted Renata as she tied on her apron. “I missed seeing you yesterday.”

  “It was so busy here. I couldn’t get away until later. You were already gone when I arrived, but Jonas said you were wonderful.”

  “Your son’s a good artist,” Katja said.

  “And a good person,” Renata added. “That is the most important thing.” She clasped Katja’s hand. “And how are you?”

  Katja had shared some details about the disastrous trip to Berlin and her following encounter with Micah’s antagonistic mother. Renata was also aware of her cautious reconciliation with Micah.

  Katja smiled reassuringly. “Things are fine. Good really.”

  “Ah, I’m so glad.”

  “How are things with you?”

  “Always the same.” Renata rolled her eyes. “Nothing is ever new with me, Schatz.”

  Maybe it was time to change that.

  “Renata?”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s an open mic night at the Blue Note tomorrow. I might play a song or two. You should come.”

  Renata pulled back and stared at Katja with wide eyes. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not? It would be fun. It would be new.”

  “I have to work.”

  “Renata, you’re the boss. You can give yourself time off. Besides,” Katja resisted the conniving smile that wanted to lift up her lips, “you never know who you might meet.” Like a charming French bachelor, maybe.

  Renata’s brows furrowed into a V. “Are you trying to set me up?”

  “No, no,” Katja said too quickly. “Of course not. I just meant, I could introduce you to some of my friends.”

  Renata cocked her head. “Meet your friends?”

  “And hear music. You do like music, don’t you?”

  “Of course. Who doesn’t like music?”

  “Then come with me. Live a little, Renata.” She waved an arm at the shop. “You have to admit you could use a change of scenery.”

  Renata’s lips twitched, considering. “Okay, Schatze. But just because I’m very fond of you.”

  Katja smiled and gave her a quick hug. “Awesome.”

  Katja waited near the entrance of the Blue Note for Renata like they’d agreed. Micah had to work late, so he promised to join her later. Katja checked the time on her phone and frowned. Renata was late. Katja hoped she hadn’t changed her mind and bailed without letting her know.

  She smiled as other people passed by to enter the club, stepping out of the way, trying not to feel strange about loitering on the sidewalk alone. She stretched her neck, peering down the darkening street. The streetlights flickered on and cast shadows against the four-story stone buildings that lined the narrow road. Her eyes ran ac
ross the peeling posters on the wall across from her—band advertisements, festivals and markets. Some coming soon, some long past.

  A woman rounded the corner dressed in jeans and a casual, billowing blouse. Her very insensible shoes clacked on the cobblestone street as she crossed the road. She waved to Katja with a bemused grin.

  Katja’s mouth went slack. She barely recognized her friend. Instead of being pulled back in a low ponytail like she wore it every day at the coffee shop, her shoulder-length, salt and pepper hair hung in soft waves around her face. She wore a little eye makeup and peach-colored lipstick.

  “Renata! You look fantastic!”

  “Thanks. It’s been a while since I put in the effort. I feel a little self-conscious.”

  “Well, you don’t look it. You’re the epitome of confidence.”

  Katja linked arms with Renata and opened the door to the Blue Note to lead her in.

  Maurice stood at his usual place behind the bar. He had that teddy-bear look, rounder in the belly and cheeks, but he had a nice face and a friendly smile. He greeted Katja warmly when she walked in. “Ma Cherie! Good to see you!”

  “You too, Maurice. I want to introduce you to my friend, Renata Beck. She’s also my boss and the owner of the coffee shop near my building.”

  He held out a broad hand, and Renata shook it. “Nice to meet you,” he said. His eyes sparkled with sincerity, and Katja was satisfied to see that Renata responded by blushing.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” she said.

  “Are you up?” Maurice asked Katja. She nodded, and added her name to the list. Maurice left to talk to Holger who was setting up the sound for the open mic night.

  “So he’s the reason you wanted me to come?” Renata asked.

  “No, I mean, sure, but also to hear the music,” Katja said. “Right?”

  “Well, little miss matchmaker, don’t get your hopes up,” Renata responded with a grin and a shake of the head.

  “Why? You’re both respectable, likable and eligible. You both own your own drinking establishments. And you both like to use pet names. Granted, yours are more varied.”

  “Hardly grounds for a relationship.”

  “Fine. But they’re great grounds for a friendship. You could be friends couldn’t you?”