Love Note (Men of Sander's Valley Book 3)

by Hayden Wolfe

  Of course, maybe they did. What did she know? His own brother all but described Jack as a “fuck ’em and leave ’em” type of guy.

  “Don’t laugh, Jack. It’s never too late to learn an instrument if you have a natural talent. You should pick up the guitar again. You might surprise yourself.”

  Eliot’s comment cut through the red haze hanging over Blaine and provided the details she’d missed. Or at least enough of them to allow her to slip back into this conversation.

  Blaine rested her elbows on the table, not something she’d normally do, especially at a wedding, but this affair was the most relaxed and natural she’d ever attended. It felt real, much as the people she’d met since coming to Sander’s Valley. There were no hidden agendas, no plans to exploit her, no games.

  Their simple honesty was freeing.

  She cast the thought aside. It didn’t matter what she felt toward this area or the people in it. She was here only a little while longer. The life she’d built on her blood, sweat, and tears awaited her.

  “Eliot’s right. Natural talent isn’t something you can lose.” Blaine grinned. “But it is something that needs to be exercised. Practice turns a hobby into a skill.”

  “Which is why you shouldn’t refer to your ability as something you dabble in. You’ve honed your gift into something that shouldn’t be wasted.” Awe added a twist to Eliot’s words that tempted her to pick up her violin again. Too bad she couldn’t.

  Blaine shrugged. “My life has taken a different path. Now I only play the violin when the mood hits me. Honestly, I haven’t even touched it in weeks. It’ll be just as long until I can pick it up again. It’s in Russia.”

  “There’s a music store in St. Marlowe. I’m sure they’d rent one to you.” Brenna’s eyes widened. “Wait. But you’re from Russia… If you don’t have a credit card they’ll accept, drop my name. They’ll let you pay your deposit in cash…if you have American dollars with you, that is.”

  “Rent an instrument.” Eliot stared at Brenna as if she’d made the most ridiculous suggestion ever. “An artist doesn’t merely rent the mechanism to produce their craft. They own it. Make it the living extension of their body. They learn its secrets as fully and completely as a lover understands what makes their partner careen into an earthshattering orgasm. Then they command it so only they can deliver ecstasy.”

  A tic formed on Brenna’s jaw. She tilted her head slightly. Fire lit her green eyes, giving them a dangerous spark. “But when you’re starving, the wise take any scrap of food offered to them, Mr. Sutherland.”

  “What does starving have to do with playing a worthy instrument?” Eliot studied Brenna with open curiosity while Jack watched his date with pride in his eyes.

  “Nothing. Everything. It’s how you look at it.” Brenna clasped her hands in front of her. “I imagine playing is as essential to Blaine’s personality as baking is for me. Sure, I can function perfectly fine without spending hours in the kitchen, but I’d be suppressing a vital aspect of who I am. Without my outlet, my soul would starve.” She grinned. “Hence my comment.”

  Eliot steepled his fingers and studied Blaine with a speculative look that set her on edge. “You should listen to this young lady. She makes an excellent point.”

  Blaine rolled her eyes. “You could say the same about my singing and acting too. They’re all a part of me.”

  “You act too?” Brenna’s brows shot up. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

  The strained sound that came out of Blaine’s mouth barely passed for a laugh. She forced a smile needed for this moment anyway. “Nothing comes without hard work. Trust me when I say I’ve clawed my way to the spot I’m in now. It wasn’t handed to me.”

  Eliot made a disgruntled sound. “A position that’s sucking the life from you.”

  “What makes you say that? I’ve seen clips of Blaine’s live shows. She’s a force unto herself out there.” Jack spoke for the first time in several minutes.

  Blaine stared at Jack and fought the urge to ask the question his comment prompted. When had he looked up those videos? Before or after they were together? Because if he was judging their encounter on her behavior in those clips, he wouldn’t know how out of character she’d acted with him.

  Eliot leaned forward. “Performing is a powerful high. Even I feel it when I stand in front of my orchestra. I’m not talking about Blaine’s skills in playing to a crowd. I’m talking about this.” He tapped a balled fist over his heart. “She’s starving here, exactly as your lovely date has pointed out. Soon, Blaine will burn out, and the career she’s built on the backs of her competition will crumble.”

  “You mean just as yours has?” Blaine glared at Eliot. Her tone matched her nasty jab. It was below her to bring up his past failures. She recognized how impolite she was acting, but his comment spurred her retaliation.

  Eliot’s thin lips pressed into a hard line. “No. I recognized my own failings as a composer and chose to focus on the talents that set me apart from the crowd and that will make Eliot Sutherland’s name as famous as my father’s.”

  More likely his mother had stepped in and told him to stop embarrassing the memory of his father, who was a famous composer. Or at least that was the rumor Blaine had heard.

  She raised a brow, letting the truth show in her eyes. She knew he lied. “Really?”

  “Yes, and if you were honest with yourself, you’d do the same.” Eliot’s gaze mocked her.

  Blaine took a sip of wine. Eliot would label the deliberate move for what it was, a stalling tactic. She didn’t care if he knew his prediction mirrored the one she’d been battling this past year. As long as Jack didn’t read fear in her expression, she’d consider the moment a win, however.

  She met Jack’s gaze over the rim of her glass. “What Eliot’s saying is that I’m not twenty-one anymore, but he’s not taking everything into consideration. I’ve made deliberate moves to ensure I appeal to a wider range of fans going forward.”

  “Are you talking about your last album that was met with equal amounts of praise and disdain?” Eliot asked with a raised brow.

  “Yes. My music’s changing to match the woman I’m becoming.”

  “A woman looking to embrace the softer side of love. Right?” Jack’s focused look held a challenge as if he expected her to deny the words she’d spoken the first night they’d met.

  “Yes. I can see it now.” Blaine bit her lip to hide her smile. With the dark, confusing emotions this night elicited within her, she feared her grin would look too evil for this conversation. “The high of falling in love and the utter low of losing everything. It’ll be soul wrenching. My longtime fans will love it, and it’ll draw them in to my more mature music.”

  “Don’t you believe in happily ever afters?” Brenna asked.

  Blaine slid her gaze to Jack’s date. “No. I don’t.”

  “Why not?” Jack’s question held a demand she couldn’t refuse.

  “The moment you put another person’s happiness before your own, your life morphs into a ‘we’ not a ‘me.’ You lose your identity and become this extension of your partner, as if you can’t exist without them.” And the moment the truth came out of her mouth, the coldness of her view on life hit her. She was jaded. She wasn’t quite sure how it had happened either. Her heart had never been broken. You had to fall in love with someone before that could happen.

  Without breaking his stare, Jack inclined his head. “And in the end, we die alone, leaving this other person to walk through the years without a piece of their heart.”

  “But don’t you fear you’ll regret not loving someone, even if it doesn’t turn out the way you expected?” Brenna looked as if she couldn’t imagine such a thing.

  “Love’s not necessary for women like Blaine.” Eliot snorted as if the idea of her in a tender relationship amused him.

  “What is?” Jack turned his head slowly to focus on him.

  “Fame. A music hall full of screaming fans.” Eliot lea
ned forward. “And what I’m offering her will put her name in front of the world, not just the youth of Russia.”

  “And that offer would be?” Jack prompted.

  Blaine sighed. No use hiding this. “Eliot wants me to join a charity orchestra that’ll travel the world.”

  “And everyone who writes a piece for the original performance will get to choose a charity that will benefit from the tour.” Eliot leaned closer to Blaine. “And how is your symphony coming along, my dear?”

  Blaine glanced toward the patio. A few guests lingered in the gardens. She didn’t recognize any of them. She wasn’t above lying, though. Anything to get her out of this conversation. “Is that Iona?”

  “Where?” Jack looked over his shoulder.

  “Outside.” Blaine stood. “Excuse me. I want to catch her before she disappears again.”

  She didn’t give anyone a chance to call her on the obvious lie. Blaine dropped her napkin on her seat and slipped out the patio door.

  The warmth of the late afternoon pressed in on her. She dragged in a lungful of the muggy air and moved to the side of the building, far away from prying eyes.

  Bringing Eliot had been a mistake, but finding a date at the last minute when she had nobody else in her life who’d drop everything for her had tipped her into desperation. Besides, she had wanted to ask him about the tour. Depending on the time commitment, she might be able to squeeze in a couple of shows.

  “It is a little nauseatingly happy in there, isn’t it?”

  Alex’s voice didn’t offer any hint as to his ethnicity. He had a knack of matching the accents of his surroundings. The lazy edge to his tone mimicked Jack’s, but coming out of Alex’s mouth, it seemed fake. Actually, everything about Alex came off as phony. Eliot respected him, however. And Eliot surrounded himself with those he adored, which would include her too if she ever gave in to his persuasions.

  “It’s a wedding. Of course it’s a happy occasion.” Blaine met Alex’s eyes from inches away. He was too close. He always stood too close. She eased farther away from him. “But it’s quite chilly. They have the air conditioning cranked up.”

  “And you get cold easily.” Alex nodded. “Do you need a shawl? I have one of your favorites in the car.”

  She forced herself to blink and glance away. Staring at him in confusion would be rude. She coughed into her arm. “You have one of my shawls?”

  “You left it the last time you visited Eliot.” Alex closed the small space she’d put between them. “When I heard we’d be meeting up with you, I brought it.”

  The last time she’d visited Eliot had been at his flat in England.

  “Did Eliot lie to me? He said he was in New York on business when I called.” Smiling, she narrowed her eyes. “You know, I wouldn’t put it past him to have flown in from Europe. He’s been pushing his charity tour quite heavily these past few months.” Ever since the paparazzi started labeling him the embarrassment of the royal family.

  “And you’d be wise to give in.” Alex lowered his voice. “Eliot gets what he wants. At all costs.”

  The unspoken threat sent a chill down her spine, even though she knew there was no reason for it. Eliot was the gentlest man she’d ever met. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. Her career, however, was a different story. She could see him sabotaging it, at least subtly. He wouldn’t want anything malicious traced back to him to shadow his name any more.

  “Don’t be silly.” She playfully swatted at Alex’s arm. He grabbed her wrist and held it. Instead of yanking it from his grasp, she swallowed hard. Appearances mattered, even if the people gathered here today didn’t care how she acted. “If Eliot decides to play dirty, he’ll lose.”

  Alex drew her close and lowered his voice. “Losing means he’ll bring even more embarrassment to the Sutherland name and, subsequently, the throne. Losing isn’t an option, Ms. Zima.”

  “It’s a concert.” Blaine rolled her eyes. “Not even a concert yet. It’s in the planning stages. The throne won’t be tarnished if it never gets off the ground.”

  “It’s been announced. If it doesn’t happen, Eliot will be blamed.” With a smile on his face, Alex eased back. “And as Eliot has already explained, this will be a wonderful opportunity for you too. That silly singing career won’t last forever.”

  She glared at Eliot’s “gets things done” assistant. “Threats won’t work, Mr. Smith. I have a substantial trust fund waiting for me if my singing career flops. Once I claim it, I’ll never have to work another day in my life.”

  Alex stroked his thumb over her wrist. “But that would involve you settling down with a baby and a husband. And aren’t you the one who flat-out refused to ever meet those conditions?”

  Blaine extracted herself from Alex’s grip and moved her hand behind her. “True, and I won’t have to. Once I turn forty-five, the money defaults to me.” The age clause was the only thing making the trust fund managed by a New York City bank legal.

  “A lot can happen in twenty years, Blaine. You might decide that a husband is the better option, especially if something happens to your singing career.”

  “Doubtful.” Blaine’s cheeks hurt from her wide smile. “I’d sooner spend my days playing violin on a street corner.”

  Blaine hurried to the main part of the garden, leaving Alex behind. Jack caught her as she stormed through the patio doors. His hands settled on her waist. “Hey, what are you running from?”

  She glanced into his face. Her body relaxed. She pressed her hands to his chest. “Running to, not from.”

  “Well… I can’t blame you for running to me. I am pretty amazing.” Jack’s mouth curved into a knowing smile. “But I hate to break it to you. I’ll be unavailable for the next few hours. I have another date.”

  His playful words chased away the iciness Alex had left with her. She waggled her brows. “What about after the reception?”

  “Once we leave here, we’ll be going back to the farm. That’s when the real celebrating will start. Doubt I’ll be able to walk in a straight line come midnight. I’d be a horrible date.”

  “Tomorrow, then?”

  Jack lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a closemouthed kiss to her knuckles. “Sorry. I can’t.”

  Blaine swallowed past the lump in her throat. Rejection didn’t feel good. “Do you have another date?”

  “Yes.” Jack nodded solemnly. “With Levi.”

  Blaine snorted. She pressed the side of her hand to her mouth but couldn’t dim her smile. “You have a date with your twin?”

  “Yep.” Jack drew her hand down and skimmed his finger over the skin by her eye. “Every Sunday, we take a full inventory of the pub, then play cards with our brothers.”

  “You’ll be down one brother this week.” Maybe next week too. Iona hadn’t mentioned how long her half sister would be in Hawaii.

  “We’ll survive, but I’m not so sure Iona will. Maybe you should keep her company since we don’t plan on letting Wyn skip out on tradition again.”

  “Maybe I will.” It’d be nice to find out more about the Sander family. Blaine wanted to make sure Iona was going to be well cared for once she left for Russia.

  Iona deserved a happily ever after, even if Blaine didn’t want one.

  Chapter 8

  The bonfire behind Kyle’s house and tiki torches around the lake lit the valley below. Blaine cast another glance at the evidence of the second reception she’d passed on attending. Eliot had barely tolerated the formal reception and the local DJ. Forcing him to endure the music blared from speakers around the lake would’ve been cruel. Besides, the events of the night had unsettled her. She’d needed solace.

  She needed her violin. Too bad she’d left it in Russia.

  Blaine tore her attention from the lit windows of Jack’s house and focused on the notebook in front of her. The piece of music she’d been working on since Eliot had first mentioned his charity tour stared back at her. It didn’t qualify as traditional classical music but set to an
array of horns, flutes, clarinets, and drums, it’d be an emotionally charged piece that would leave a lasting impression on everyone who heard it.

  She could almost feel the beat in her bones. The racing tempo and heart-wrenching lows spoke to her, reminding her of the journey of love she’d briefly described to Jack earlier today. Love in its highest, most exciting form, followed by the heartbreak that hit once reality destroyed the promise of forever. The only thing left to write was the ending.

  Utter misery? Or the happily ever after most people sought?

  Her pencil didn’t move. She couldn’t decide on the next note.

  The revving of a four-wheeler drew her gaze to the woods. She’d heard several ATVs on and off all evening, but never this close. Who’d be coming to see her? The excuse she’d dropped about being tired should’ve kept everyone away.

  She set her notebook and pencil on her lounge chair and walked to the side deck, allowing her an unobstructed view of the road leading to the cabin. No sweeping arcs of headlights announced a visitor. After a few moments, the sound grew softer. Whoever had ridden this way had driven by. Fine by her. Dressed in a tank top and undies, she was in no condition to be greeting anyone.

  Blaine returned to the spot she’d chosen at the back of the cabin and slipped on her headphones. The inspirational music she’d been listening to drew her back to the task at hand. If she joined Eliot’s tour, her name would be attached to the music she was composing. Kings, presidents, and diplomats from around the world would attend such an elaborate affair, especially with the Sutherland name attached to the event. Her contribution to the tour needed to be perfect.

  The familiar pressure to succeed settled over her. She recognized it for what it was: an obsession. If she let it consume her, Eliot would get his way.

  Was that such a bad thing? Maybe, maybe not.

  She couldn’t decide and had no one to bounce her thoughts off. Iona would tell her to follow her heart, and Avery’s only contribution would pertain to her safety. Success and happiness meant little to him.