Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five

by Alexa Padgett

  Hayden put his fingers back on the keys. “Something like that. Though, both my parents played piano. It’s how they met.”

  I moved forward, leaning on the gleaming edge of the instrument. With the lid up, I could see all the strings and hammers moving, a juxtaposition to the smooth motion of Hayden’s fingers on the keys.

  “I’ve never heard that piece before,” I murmured, trying to redirect his thoughts.

  “That’s because I just made it up.” Hayden slid the bench back and stood. “Reminds me of you.”

  I blinked, shocked, but Hayden’s gaze drifted around the room.

  “This is a great setup,” he said. “The guys and I are playing a show here later this summer. Will you be in town?”

  Bill pursed his lips, considering. “We’re doing mini-tours this summer, mostly up and down the Pacific coast. Carl’s getting Seth settled at Northern University and Asher doesn’t want to leave Lia for too long.” Bill grinned. “My guess is he’s worried Mason will drive her crazy and she’ll run screaming back to Iowa.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Idaho.”

  Bill shrugged. “Whatevs.”

  “Mason is Asher’s son,” I said. “Asher was awarded full custody of him a few months ago.”

  Hayden nodded. “I met the Supernaturals a few years back in Sydney. Asher showed me a picture. Cute kid. Glad Asher’s getting to be the dad he always wanted to be.”

  Bill narrowed his eyes. “Hayden and his band played a gig at this tiny pub while we were in town. We’d heard all about this piano prodigy we had to check out.”

  Hayden shuddered. “Prodigy is a strong word.”

  “Bri, have you let Asher know Hayden’s in town?”

  “I told Lia. I’m sure she’s told Asher.” I shook my head, mystified by Bill’s boundless enthusiasm. Hayden’s band, Jackaroo, was growing in popularity thanks to a song titled “She’s So Bad,” but Asher and Bill were indie-rock royalty. They’d been around for twenty years and wore the scars—both mental and physical—to prove it.

  “I’m texting Ash now. He’s going to go apeshit when he hears I have Hayden in the studio and he’s not here.”

  “I’d love to meet up with some musicians while I’m in town,” Hayden said. “Might make this waiting game feel more productive.” His eyes shone, his face more animated than I’d seen it all day.

  “I get you. I’m always happiest wailing out some riffs. Yep. Knew it. Asher’s excited. He said Lia mentioned you were hanging out with Briar. Said they’ll be here tomorrow, day after at the latest.” Bill looked to me, annoyed, and asked, “What’s the holdup? Ash loves to jam.”

  “They’re settling Abbi’s school situation, getting Lia’s house ready to sell.”

  Bill nodded, the frown easing. “I forgot. Seth’s glad Abbi’s going to be closer.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “I don’t want to think about my niece like that,” I said.

  “Wait—how old is your niece?” Hayden asked.

  “Seventeen.”

  Hayden blinked, then nodded. “Does she play an instrument?”

  “No. She refused. Doug—her dad—was a guitar player.”

  “There’s a story there,” Hayden said.

  “Always is with you musicians,” I mused.

  “So Asher wants you to come by again and jam with him,” Bill said. “Now, show me that melody again. I want to see if I can get the chords.”

  Bill pulled the strap of his guitar over his head. I stepped back to the windows, looking out into the deep sky and replaying Ken’s comments over in my head. I turned back, smiling when the guys laughed at Bill’s wrong note. This was what Hayden needed. Maybe what I needed, too.

  11

  Hayden

  Part of the reason I’d felt so off today was because I hadn’t played the piano. While in college, I’d play for three, sometimes more, hours each day. Between the flight and visiting my mum, I’d gone nearly two days without touching the ivories. Music was my escape. I’d needed it. Briar had known, sought out the opportunity so I could settle my head and my emotions.

  Bill had called me a prodigy, and I guess to some people I was. I’d shown talent early and spent most of my childhood in music camps and private lessons. My first big recital was at the age of fourteen at the Enmore Theatre. Granted, that venue was much smaller than Sydney’s Hordern Pavilion, where the Supernaturals played a sold-out show when they came Down Under, but performing at the Enmore was still a respectable notch in any musician’s belt. And I’d played to a packed-out Pavilion just last month with Jackaroo.

  Now, as my fingers moved across the keys, my foot pumping the damper pedal, I was home. Centered.

  Briar gazed out the large windows, lost in some deep thoughts. Bill crowed out the worst rendition of Asher’s “Let’s Do it in the Surf” as he strummed his guitar. No wonder they kept the man away from the microphone.

  Crikey, that was painful.

  “Now, watch this—this is what we’re doing on the new album,” Bill said.

  His fingers slid upward, a smooth progression across the frets. Nodding, I slid back onto the piano bench and said, “You mean this type of melody?”

  “Yeah, man. That’s great. Then I could do a layer over it.”

  I stopped playing on an abrupt chord and stood.

  “This has been excellent, Bill. Briar’s got to be famished and I could use a bite myself. Care to join us?”

  “You sure you don’t want to jam more?” Bill kept strumming his guitar, lost in a place I didn’t want to follow again. Not with Briar here.

  “Not tonight. I need to call my manager, let him know I’m still here. We have to set up some promo, get me back on the tour.”

  Bill shook his head, eyes far away, lost in his music. “Y’all go ahead.”

  “Thanks,” Briar murmured as we headed toward the elevator. “Bill’s great, but I think my ears are bleeding. He really shouldn’t sing.”

  “Occupational hazard.”

  “So I have a question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “What does Jackaroo mean?”

  I smiled, brushing my hand down her spine as I held open the elevator doors. “A ranch hand.”

  “But you don’t play country music.”

  “There are influences, especially from Ets.”

  “Ets being?”

  “Murphy Etsam,” I said. “We tried calling him Etso but he wouldn’t answer.”

  “Because that’s a stupid nickname,” Briar pointed out.

  “That’s why we liked it.”

  I urged her from the elevator with a little pressure on her lower back. I was very aware my hand was mere inches from that delectable bum.

  “I need to feed Rosie’s cat,” Briar said.

  Hope took root. Was she inviting me back to her place? I’d been trying to figure out how to invite her to my hotel room without sounding like a perv. I didn’t want to presume past our friend pact. Her asking me over was just . . . well, hot.

  “All right.”

  “She’s probably trashed the place by now. She’s the meanest beast I’ve ever met.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “You may be risking your life entering the apartment.”

  “I think I can handle a tiny tiger.”

  Her gaze was steady but her lips flattened. “You’ve been warned.”

  “Mind if I make a call?” I asked as we got into her car.

  “Of course not.”

  I dialed Harry’s number. He answered on the first ring. “So you are flying back. Good. Ets is pissed at the thought of canceling another show.”

  “Can’t come back yet. That’s why I’m calling.” Hell. I didn’t know if this was the right decision. I glanced over at Briar, thinking about her naked. Well . . . not even Ets would blame me for being late if I was shagging a beautiful woman.

  “This isn’t the time to go walkabout,” Harry moaned.

  “Tell that to my mum.”

  “
I don’t know if I can spin this. We can’t cancel more concerts. Besides the financial headaches, people are asking questions about where you are. How am I supposed to answer them?”

  “Get Pete to come in. He’s a great session pianist.” Even as I said the words, I hated the idea of someone else touching my instrument, playing my melodies in my band.

  “Hayden, you’ve got the world at your feet. Don’t throw this away. She’s dying. Would she want you to mess up your life?”

  “Talk soon, Harry. I’ll text Pete. Let him know to expect a call from you for the last show in Melbourne.”

  “Fine,” Harry sighed. “But Ets is going to throw a fit.”

  I ended the call and stared at the window. Briar didn’t say anything, her eyes focused on the road, and I appreciated the chance to realign my thoughts. Only I couldn’t get past the question Harry’d asked. Would my mum want to mess up my life?

  Briar drove to a nice high-rise condominium complex. After parking in the underground bay, we rode the elevator up to the ninth floor. “This is Rosie’s place. The cat’s name is Princess.”

  The place was neat, if a little dusty and neglected. The living room, like the kitchen, was small but functional. The couches, though, were tattered. Both the armrests and fronts were shredded by what appeared to be cat claws.

  The first bite of apprehension tickled the back of my neck.

  Mrrowww.

  “Hi, Princess,” Briar said, her voice nervous.

  Hiss.

  “Don’t be like that, Princess. I want to feed you.” Briar slunk toward the kitchen, her steps tentative. My amusement turned to shock when the cat leapt from the kitchen counter, batting at Briar’s face, claws unsheathed.

  Briar stumbled back, hands up, biting off a scream.

  “Oi!” I charged forward, stepping between Briar and the fluffy feline hellion. The cat ran pell-mell down the short hall. Probably to hide under the bed.

  “She hates me,” Briar said, voice shaky. “Rosie says she likes me but that’s not true. Animals usually like me. Not even my employees hated me.” She rested her head against my back for a moment before heading into the kitchen, where she pulled out fresh salmon.

  “You’re hard to hate. Wait, you feed the fiend raw salmon?”

  “She likes it. It’s the only time she purrs.”

  “Of course she does. Her dinner costs more than most humans’.”

  “She normally settles down after she’s eaten,” Briar said, casting a nervous glance toward the hall.

  “You’re not staying here with that cat.”

  “I have to. I promised Rosie I’d look after her.”

  I folded my arms over my chest. “That’s a promise you’ll have to break for your own safety. Cats carry bacteria in their claws. A scratch can be dangerous.”

  “I’ve heard the song,” Briar said, laughing. “‘Cat Scratch Fever,’ right?” She stood and washed her hands before carefully wrapping the food and putting the plate back in the fridge.

  “You irritate me, woman.”

  “Lia will be proud I haven’t lost my touch. You want something to eat? I know you’re hungry.”

  “Here? With the spawn of Satan on the prowl?”

  “Princess isn’t that bad.”

  I raised my eyebrow and Briar wilted.

  “Okay, she is. I think she’s freaking out that her mom’s gone and I left her alone all day . . . That’s a lot for any dependent to handle.”

  “You realize you’re rationalizing a cat’s behavior?”

  “We can order some takeout or I can try to cook something,” Briar said, looking with nervous anticipation around the kitchen.

  I chuckled. “Seeing as how I can’t make mac and cheese—I’m talking the microwave kind—I’m not about to complain about your lack of culinary skills.”

  Briar smiled. “Oh, another domestically challenged person. You have no idea how happy that makes me. Lia’s a kitchen whiz.”

  “Those people are such show-offs.”

  “I dial a mean Chinese. That okay with you? Or maybe Thai? Hmm, then again we had Korean for lunch—pizza?”

  “I love pizza. Anything on it is great. Well, not squid. Or broccoli. Got any beer?”

  Briar called in an order. She walked back to the shredded couch with a cold can, which she handed me.

  “Asher told me to get this kind. I like to drink lager with my pizza. Reminds me of my dad.”

  I settled back onto the surprisingly comfortable cushion and popped open the can.

  “Cheers.” I took a long swallow. Jet lag settled over me.

  “When did you get into town?”

  “Yesterday. Why?”

  “You’re going to crash hard,” Briar said with a frown. “Your body’s still all messed up from crossing so many time zones.”

  I pulled her down and into my side. “Not till after I eat Seattle’s best pizza, though.”

  The beer probably wasn’t a good idea, but the talk with my mum lay heavy on my mind. Sucking the cold brew down, I managed three slices of the pie, fascinated by the weird toppings.

  “What’s on it again?”

  “Mortadella, nettle pesto, and pistachios.”

  “Only thing I’ve heard of on that list is pistachios.”

  “They’re good,” Briar said as she munched her second piece.

  “Is this the kind of pizza your dad ate?”

  She inhaled to laugh but choked instead. She set the pizza down, struggled to catch her breath. After a sip of beer, she said, “No way. He loved meat.”

  “Good man, your dad.” I yawned hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

  “Yes, he was. A very good man.”

  “You miss him heaps. Still.”

  She nodded, her eyes darkening with an old pain. That I understood all too well. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help cupping her far cheek and settling her head onto my chest. I rubbed the ends of her silky, chocolate-colored hair between my fingers just like I’d wanted to all day.

  “Your hair reminds me of a mink. I always liked those animals. Like the color on your head more though.”

  “Flatterer.”

  “Not so much. Just tell it as I see it.”

  “My dad used to say that.”

  She nestled in a little closer, and I could just make out the rapid blinking of her lashes. Damn, she was going to cry. I was very uncomfortable with tears.

  “My dad liked to play really esoteric composers,” I blurted. “Weird, almost nonmusical music. I hated it, would cover my ears. He told me I didn’t have an ear for minor progressions.”

  “Is that true?”

  “I was seven at the time. But I matured and learned the importance of tension in a piece. Just not as much as my dad preferred. Music should speak to the listener, not bash her over the head.”

  Her chuckle was watery, but I’d take it.

  I closed my eyes. When she slid her arms around my waist, contentment and sleep washed over me.

  12

  Briar

  I didn’t have the heart to wake him. I cleaned up our dinner, putting the leftovers into the fridge, then brushed my teeth while I debated what to do with Hayden. He couldn’t sleep on the couch. Besides it being too short, half the stuffing was now missing, making it way too uncomfortable for an extended lie-down.

  Princess was curled in a corner in the small dining nook. She blinked open an eye when I tiptoed back to the bedroom, hoping she’d let Hayden sleep for a while longer. I put on my shorts and cami set. While not overly revealing, the outfit was soft, and the hot pink was a good color for me.

  But when I came out of the bathroom, face washed and hair tied up for sleep, I gave in to the inevitable: he’d stay the night.

  I’d only fantasized about it three thousand times today. Thank goodness I’d made time earlier this week for a haircut, waxing, and mani/pedi. I’d stewed in self-pity in Rathdrum, letting every part of me fall into disrepair. The timing for my beauty salon overh
aul couldn’t have been better.

  Not that I expected Hayden to—screw it, I did want him to make love to me. Lying wouldn’t change the yearning building in my core and spiraling out toward my breasts.

  I padded back down the hall, keeping my distance from Princess. She rumbled from her corner but didn’t try to shred my leg. Progress.

  I slid my hip next to Hayden on the couch, and ran my finger down his nose and over his firm top lip. His warm breath slid across my hand, and I moaned. He was sinfully good-looking. His lashes rested on his cheeks, as sun-kissed as his hair. I leaned in, noticing a few faint freckles on each cheek. I bit my lip and turned away, barely resisting the urge to fan my overheated cheeks.

  Who knew freckles were so sexy?

  “Hayden?” I said, keeping my voice soft, soothing.

  “Mmm.”

  “Hayden, come on. Time for bed.”

  His lashes fluttered, his pupils dark and large, nearly overpowering the lighter brown of his irises as his eyes opened. “Shit. I fell asleep.”

  I smiled, amused as he ran a hand over his face. “You’ve been out for a while.”

  “You should’ve woken me. I need to get back.” His fingers were in his hair, tousling the waves.

  “Well, I put on my pajamas now, so you’ll just stay here. With me. If that’s okay.”

  “Is there a bed?”

  “Yes, I have a bed.”

  “Great.”

  He wasn’t completely awake so I offered him my hand, helping him up off the sagging couch. He stumbled around the coffee table and bounced off the wall as I led him down the hall to the only bedroom. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing.

  “Bathroom’s in there,” I said, pulling him forward. “I put out a toothbrush for you. I found a new one in one of Rosie’s drawers.”

  He nodded, blinking, then yawned. His jaw popped and his Adam’s apple was more visible as he stretched.

  “Brush your teeth.”

  “Right-o.”

  I clambered into the bed and turned on my e-reader. I listened with half an ear to Hayden’s pre-bed ritual, and I wondered what it’d be like to brush our teeth together sometime. That thought led to another: us, getting ready to go out. Ken used a completely separate bathroom—the master one, natch. But with Hayden, I imagined him watching me brush my hair and maybe coat my lashes with mascara, enjoying the sight as we prepared for a night out together.