Carly waved but he didn’t see her. He was smiling and nodding to the audience as people tossed money into his guitar case. Strumming, he said a few words before launching into his next song. Even out in the open with no acoustics he really did have an amazing voice. A couple who’d been walking toward a coffee shop stopped and turned to go onto the Green instead.
“Are you going to go over and say hi?” Frankie asked.
“No, let’s not disturb him,” Carly said, not wanting to add extra pressure.
Already he didn’t need her. The thought gave her a pang deep down inside. Well, good for him. He had no idea how wonderful he was. When he started to fly he would be so far above her she’d never catch him.
* * *
FINN STACKED THE last quarter. The kitchen table was dotted with piles of coins neatly arranged in rows from largest denomination to smallest. He almost felt prouder of these earnings than of his royalties for the Screaming Reindeer song. The money thrown into the guitar case had been longer in coming and harder won.
The front door opened and he recognized Carly’s footsteps in the hall. “In here,” he called.
She was wearing city clothes, a navy pencil skirt, white blouse and stiletto ankle boots. His cheerfulness faltered at the reminder that tomorrow she would be going back to New York. But he was damned if he was going to waste the precious time they had left feeling down.
“Thirty-three dollars and sixty-five cents, one lollipop and a coupon for a free margarita at Pedro’s.” He grinned. “Not bad for my first day as a performer. It will almost pay the fine I got for busking without a permit.”
Carly hugged him. “You were awesome. I was so proud of you. And it was a smart way to ease into performing in public with minimal pressure.”
He leaned back, surprised. “You were there? I didn’t see you.” Not that he would have, with his eyes either shut or staring fixedly at the guitar strings.
“Frankie and I were going for coffee and didn’t want to interrupt you.” She got a bottle of white wine from the fridge. “I think this deserves a celebratory toast.”
Finn raised the coupon. “How about tacos and margaritas instead?”
“You’re on.”
Finn took her hand as they walked down the hill to town in the warm spring evening. The present mood was a far cry from the day they’d roamed these streets looking for Rufus. He was still on a high from successful busking. Carly was in a goofy mood, making up outrageous future careers for the kids they passed.
“That little girl,” she said of a five-year-old in pigtails walking with her mom and a shaggy-headed boy. “She’s going to be a world authority on shredded cheese. Her brother will get work as a Rasputin impersonator.”
“You’re pulling my leg,” Finn said laughing. “There’s no such thing.”
“You would be amazed the weird jobs out there,” Carly said. “Mind you, Rasputin is a niche market. Tough to break into.”
“What about that kid?” Finn nodded to a cherubic boy being towed in a cart behind his dad riding a bicycle.
Carly tapped her cheek, pretending to ponder the matter. “He’ll have a job fishing bicycles out of the canals in Amsterdam.”
“You know these things because?” Finn asked, smiling.
“I’m a recruitment consultant,” she said. “I’m trained to identify people’s special abilities and place them in their perfect job.”
“Okay, then, what makes you believe I’d be a good match with Molto?” Finn asked.
“The wicked glint in your eye when you’re counting up your money. I’m kidding, of course. It’s your songwriting ability.” She glanced sideways at him. “Are you really thinking of calling them?”
“I put in my application last week.”
“Good for you.”
They came to the edge of the historic district and the market set up on the main street. The conversation turned to the contents of the stalls. Finn’s thoughts, however, were on the future. He wanted Carly in his life, not temporarily but permanently and on a daily basis.
The application to Molto felt like a cop-out. He didn’t really want it but he’d figured the only way he could get Carly to even think about moving west to be with him was by proving he was stable and reliable. He couldn’t say that though because he knew all too well what it felt like to be pressured by someone you loved. Assuming she loved him.
She might be more willing to give up her job in New York if they lived in Fairhaven. It was the scene of some of his worst memories but there were good memories, too. Summer days with Carly on Irene’s porch, jamming with Dingo, the woods, the beach, riding for miles on his bike with his friends. He’d grown up here, traveling the years from a boy to a teenager to a young man. The town was home in a way that LA would never be. And it was a great place to raise a family.
“Look at this rocking chair.” Carly came to a halt in front of a display of hand-crafted maple wood furniture.
The chair had rounded, clean lines, a broad leather seat, and a tall back with a design of a sun and moon carved into it. She sat and rocked gently. “It’s super comfortable.”
“Kinda out of the box for a city girl like you.” He was eyeing the king-size headboard carved from the same fine-grained, rose-hued wood. It wouldn’t go in his ultramodern Hollywood rancher but he liked it a lot. Casually he pocketed the woodworker’s business card. “It would be perfect for Irene’s house.”
Dreamily, Carly smoothed a hand over the maple wood arm. “In the kitchen, next to the stove.” She rose and pushed him into the chair. “Isn’t that the most comfortable thing you’ve ever sat in?”
“Not bad,” he said, rocking. “Although it’s not in the same league as my old duct-taped recliner.”
“You keep ruining my image of the hotshot LA creative. Are you sure you don’t live in a biker den or a frat house?”
“Shh, I’m creating right now.” He closed his eyes and pictured himself in the rocker, strumming a guitar and watching the sunset over the bay. “I’d rather have it on the porch.”
She placed a hand warmly on his shoulder. “We could get two chairs. One for me, one for you.”
He placed his hand atop hers. Side by side, rocking through life. With his eyes still closed, he smiled. These few weeks with Carly had been the best.
When he opened his eyes Carly was watching him, a wistful smile on her face. Rocking chairs, huh. Carly was after a fancy office in downtown Manhattan.
He pushed that depressing thought aside. All too soon they would both have to return to reality. Let tonight be about romance.
Surging to his feet, he whirled her into his arms and danced her away in an impromptu polka, dodging pedestrians and dogs on leashes. Laughing, she let herself be twirled, leaning into his supporting arm and letting her head fall back. At the end of the block, he picked her up by the waist and spun her around, letting her slide down his body.
“What was that about?” Her face was flushed and her eyes sparkling.
“Just feeling good,” he said.
“Silly.” She put her hand in his and they walked up the steps of the Mexican restaurant.
Pedro’s was Saturday night busy so they had their margaritas in the bar while they waited for a table, surrounded by colorful pottery and posters of Cabo and Baja.
“Are you excited about open mike tomorrow?” Carly dipped a tortilla chip in salsa.
“Equal parts excited and scared.” He spun the bowl-shaped margarita glass around to get more salt. Good for the throat.
“A few nerves aren’t necessarily a bad thing.” Carly wiped her fingers on a napkin and got out her phone. “I thought I’d tell a few people about the open mike. Are you okay with that?”
“Go ahead,” he said, still on a high. “The only thing worse than playing to an audience is playing to an empty room.”
“T
here, I’ve sent a mass text to everyone I know in town and posted on social media.” She reached for another chip. “At the Village Green were you anxious at all?”
“Sure, a little, but it went better than I expected. My confidence wasn’t all it could be but I felt as if I really connected to the audience. Reminded me of what I’ve been missing.”
It had also made him realize what the future might hold. If all went well at open mike and then at the bar and at RockAround, who knew where he could proceed from there? With the band or on his own. He had no illusions the road ahead would be easy but suddenly his world had opened up. He wouldn’t need Molto.
“That’s great,” she said. “So, you feel ready to play tomorrow? You really want to do this?”
Was she seeking reassurance that he wouldn’t bail? Fair enough. That concert twelve years ago was tough to live down. “I really want to play. I promise I won’t run out of the café again, no matter what happens.”
The waitress showed them to a table and not long after, plates of enchiladas and tacos arrived. Finn joked and teased Carly, who complained that he’d given her a side ache from laughing. But like a somber note anchoring the lighthearted melody was the thought that the minutes were ticking away till the time he would lose her.
Impulsively he reached for her hand across the table, felt her smooth skin beneath the calluses on his finger pads. “Don’t go back to New York. Don’t sell the house. Let’s finish what we started.”
Carly only seemed to hear the last sentence. “Not that again!” Laughing, she rubbed her ankle up his calf. “I’m going to make you eat those words.” She leaned forward, showing her cleavage above her V-neck blouse. “When we get home, you’re going to give me an all-over body massage until I get a happy ending, if you know what I mean. Finish what you started.”
He kept smiling, hiding his disappointment that she’d completely misread him. A happy ending to him meant home, family, lasting love. Whereas he’d been speaking seriously of the future of their relationship, she had reduced their connection to a sexual fling.
Well, they had been joking around all night. He knew he meant more to her than just a roll in the hay. But a seed of uncertainty had been planted. She’d said from the beginning that she didn’t want anything complicated. If he started over as a performer he could be struggling for a while. Would Carly take him seriously as a relationship prospect, or would he always be the bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks? Even a job at Molto might not be respectable enough for a woman who operated in the high echelons of the business world.
“Finn?” she said.
Pushing aside his dark thoughts he smiled lasciviously and rubbed small circles in her palm, letting her know he was thinking about doing the same thing on a completely different part of her anatomy. “I’m all about happy endings.”
Sexual chemistry and humor, these were things they were good at. Safe things. He would never make Carly choose between him and her dream job. But like the bite of chili on his tongue, the fear that this was all there was between them stung his heart.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SUNDAY MORNING CARLY rose before the birds, unable to sleep. Finn had gone out early for a run with Rufus to shed any last nerves. Word was spreading that he was going to be at open mike today. Someone had reposted her tweet onto the Fairhaven Facebook page and added that Finn was the songwriter behind the Screaming Reindeer hit. When she zipped down to the grocery store for milk for breakfast she’d overheard the woman in front of her at the cash register talking about him. Apparently she’d known him in high school and remembered his and Dingo’s garage band.
As she left the supermarket she called Nora to remind her. “Don’t change your mind, please. Finn would be so disappointed if you didn’t come.”
“Will he come is the question,” Nora said.
“Of course he will. Yesterday he was busking on the Green. He had the crowd eating out of his hand.”
Nora made a noise that might have meant anything, approval or the opposite. “Bob and I will be there. What time?”
“He wants to be the first act, to get it over with,” Carly said. “So about 12:30 p.m. Annie’s going to reserve us a table. I’ll pick you and Bob up at 12:20 pm.”
Carly started the car and headed back up the hill. She passed Finn jogging, Rufus at his heels, and rolled down the window. “Hey, hot stuff. Going my way?”
He grinned and waved. She roared past, glancing in the rearview mirror. His smile had faded and a furrow had creased the space between his eyebrows. A moment of doubt swept over her. Was she making too much of him playing today? A little pressure could be a good thing. But too much and he might fold.
Nah, he was just hurting on his homeward uphill stretch of the run. Finn was just as excited about today as she was, even if he didn’t show it as overtly. He’d said so last night. She believed him. After all they’d been through together and all the soul-baring, late-night discussions, he wouldn’t lie to her.
Yesterday had been perfect, starting from the thrill of seeing him perform on the Village Green, to him dancing her down the street, to the sexy banter at Pedro’s to the swoon-worthy “happy ending.”
She was putting away the milk when he came through the back door all sweaty and sexy in his body-hugging T-shirt and shorts. “Good run?”
“Good to get back into it,” he grunted. “I was getting out of shape.”
“Your shape looks fine to me.” She slid a hand over his tight butt.
He glanced at the clock. “Got to shower and get dressed.”
“I told your mom we’d pick up her and your dad on our way to Rhonda’s,” Carly said. Finn’s face went blank. Uh-oh. Had she gone too far by bringing his parents when he and Nora weren’t entirely comfortable together? “Is that a problem? I thought it would be okay since you were the one who invited her.”
He plucked his damp T-shirt away from his chest. “Thing is, I’m going to Dingo’s first. We’re going to tape my song live and I’m going to help him set up the recording equipment.”
“Oh, okay, sure.” Her breath released in a relieved sigh. For a moment there… “If you were having second thoughts, you’d tell me about them, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m not having second thoughts.” He opened the fridge, took out the juice carton and poured himself a glass. “This is an essential step toward performing at RockAround. I’m committed to that.”
He’d been committed to the concert back in high school, too. She watched his throat move as he swallowed a couple of long gulps of juice. Oh for goodness’ sake, why was she worrying? This was nothing like the same thing. Back then he’d been pressured into performing music he didn’t want to play for a music school he didn’t want to go to. Today’s open mike was him playing his own song, his way.
“Well, good.” She blotted his temples with a tissue. “You’re all sweaty. I can practically smell the testosterone oozing out of your pores.”
He grabbed her playfully around the waist. She squealed and squirmed as he backed her against the counter, pressing into her hips. She slid her hands up under his T-shirt over hot bare skin slick with perspiration. After last night she thought she would have been satiated for a week. Instead she was wet and she could feel how hard he was.
Finn’s gaze shifted and he stilled abruptly. He was looking past her to her packed suitcases sitting in the hall at the base of the stairs. He took a deep breath and released her. The fun had drained out of the moment. “What time is your flight?”
“I’m going straight from the open mike to the airport.” He’d known for weeks she was leaving but she’d deliberately avoided mentioning her departure in the past few days, not wanting to ruin the good times. She’d planned to wait to talk about the future until after the open mike, when he was relaxed. They would find a quiet place, away from the café. She didn’t know what they would decide, only th
at she couldn’t leave without addressing where they went from here. Had she left it too late? “We should talk.”
“I need to shower.”
“Finn, is everything okay?” she asked, touching his arm as he passed her. She had a feeling that if he hadn’t seen her suitcases she would have been sitting on the table right now with him pushing into her, oblivious to the time.
“Fine.” He lifted a hand as he walked away and let it fall—like an ax on a chopping block. “Everything’s fine.”
If everything was fine, why did his voice sound so strained?
“I’ll see you at the café,” she called after him as he ran up the stairs. Then the bathroom door closed and she heard the shower. Carly stood uncertainly in the foyer. “Break a leg.”
* * *
CARLY FELT A twinge of unease when she saw the sandwich board that stood outside Rhonda’s café advertising the open mike afternoon. Underneath someone had attached a handwritten notice in bold letters proclaiming the appearance today of Fairhaven songwriter, Finn Farrell.
Yesterday Finn had seemed absolutely fine with playing in front of an audience, but today with the pressure mounting, she wasn’t as sure of him. Putting on a smile, she opened the heavy glass door and ushered Nora and Bob in ahead of her.
Annie saw her and hurried out from behind the counter, all smiles. She led them to an empty table near the stage and whipped off the reserved sign. “We don’t usually reserve tables but my boss said I could for today. I kind of hyped Finn to them, talking about RockAround and how he’s rejoined his old band and is starting his comeback in his hometown.”
“Great publicity.” Carly hoped Finn hadn’t gotten wind of that.
“See the guy in the green shirt by the pillar?” Annie said. “He’s the arts reporter with the Bellingham Times. Dingo called him.” She took their lunch orders and added, “I’ve got to get back to work. Sunday is always busy but today the café is filling faster than usual.”
Harlequin Superromance May 2018 Box Set Page 95
