“Ask her, then.” Reed ran fingers through his hair, staring at the shelved walls of the storage area.
Quinn had filled it with snacks and office supplies and an emergency blanket. She was stamping the place with her own personality, as she’d done to the apartment upstairs.
“She’s busy right now. I’ll text her.” Dax pulled out his phone. “What should I say?”
“Where are you going to go?”
“Dancing.” His tone rubbed in the fact he’d slept with Quinn.
Agony spasmed in Reed’s chest. He didn’t want to think about Quinn being in his brother’s arms. “Her ankle is better, but she shouldn’t push herself.”
“Right.” His brother jerked his head down, his thumbs poised above the keyboard. “I’ll take her to dinner. What should I text?”
He ran fingers through his hair again. “Just ask her to dinner.”
Dax’s head jerked up. He assessed Reed. “I can’t just ask her to dinner. Too boring.” His brother whipped his phone around. “She’s from New York. I need to make the ask good. Flashy.”
“Whatever.” He was done with this conversation. He shoved the ladder into place and headed out of the storage area.
“You’re good with words. You’re a lyricist.” His brother held out his phone. “You text her.”
Realization pulsed behind his temples. “That’s the only reason you didn’t go outside and ask her out to her face, Lazy Dax. You wanted me to do it.” He’d thought the Cyrano game was finished. “I won’t help.”
“Come on, Reed.” Dax knocked his upper arm with the cellphone. “I know how well you spoke to her the night by the window. She mentioned how eloquent she thought I was.”
“You mean I was.” The pulsing picked up tempo. Reed was tired of being used by both of them. Dax to help ask her out and Quinn putting him on display.
“It’s a text. You’d be helping my broken heart and Quinn’s need to meet people in town.” His brother’s cajoling nudged. “Please.”
The pulsing slowed as his resistance waned. Taking Quinn out on the town wasn’t something Reed would do anyhow. He didn’t do socializing. Sure, he’d gone out to dinner with her once, but he enjoyed quiet nights alone. All alone. Freaking-quiet alone.
He snatched the phone. “Fine.”
“What’re you going to say?” His brother peered over his shoulder.
The music playing in his head tapped out through his fingers and onto the phone. Lyrics from the same song hummed in his head. Lyrics he’d created. Hitting send with a trembling finger, he shoved the phone at his brother. “She might say no.”
The phone buzzed.
Dax’s face lit. “She said yes!” He danced around, doing a poor imitation of an Irish jig.
Each step stomped on Reed’s chest. Glad his texting had been effective, yet mad, too. What had the kiss on the cheek and the heated glances meant, if she’d said yes to a date with his brother? “Congratulations.” To me.
His brother’s dance came to a stop. “You know her better. What should I talk about on our date?”
His jaw dropped. He did know her well. Knew how she used softener on her sheets. Knew how she stretched up on her toes while thinking. Knew she’d loved her grandparents. He couldn’t talk for his brother. “I won’t be going on your date.”
Dax’s expression fell. Then, his eyebrows wiggled and he gave a jaunty smile. “We can double.”
Except Reed wanted to date the same girl his brother was taking out. Sleeping with.
His heart thumped in a tortured rhythm. He hadn’t had a date in forever. Why would his brother believe he could conjure one? He didn’t date.
“If I had a date.” Sarcasm leaked.
“Don’t worry.” Dax patted him on the arm. “I’ll find someone for you.”
You already have.
Chapter Ten
Music thrummed through Reed’s brain. A juxtaposition of rhythm and lyrics. A siren’s song, calling him farther and deeper. A depth he hadn’t traversed in years. His fingers went from the keyboard to the scrap of paper and back. Tapping out chords, scratching out words, hearing and hearing and hearing the unique song holding him in its grasp.
It was always this way when he composed. At first, a nagging note needing to be played. Then, notes stringing together in his head. He didn’t even need a piano at the beginning. The notes gathered and swelled, and his mind would burst if he didn’t let the music pour out of his head through his fingers. His ears yearned to hear what his brain created. Would the composition sound as good out loud as it did in his mind?
The song was about unrequited longing and passion. About seeing and wanting. About something, or someone, out of reach. The complexity of his feelings strummed through him first in harmony and then clashing like cymbals. Awakened and unwanted desire.
Quinn.
She’d awoken feelings in him he thought he’d never experience again. Attraction and lust and just liking other people. He didn’t want to hide himself away from the world. She’d awoken the music inside his mind and his heart.
His fingers shook, writing the notes on paper. He was composing. Really writing music and lyrics for the first time in years. The shaking traveled up his arms and throughout his entire body. The thrill of creating something new and artistic hummed through his bloodstream.
More than being a pianist and playing in front of hundreds of people, he’d loved the artistic aspect of creating new music. He’d gone to New York to play the piano, and learned so much and met so many interesting people. First, he’d collaborated on projects, helping compose the music. Then, he’d composed a full song. And finally, words flowed in his head along with the music. He’d become a songwriter. Even after a partner had stolen a song, pretending it was his own, Reed still heard music. The betrayal hadn’t taken the music away.
One of the most devastating things about his accident was losing this ability to compose. And now it was back.
He hoped it was back forever. Fear froze his fingers on the piano. What if the music left him again? What if Quinn left Castle Ridge? What if he returned to his stagnant life?
Because he hadn’t moved forward in years. Sure, he’d worked through his tough physical therapy, he’d found a new career, he’d settled.
S.E.T.T.L.E.D.
Each individual letter sank and settled in his gut. He wasn’t willing to settle any longer.
Knock, knock, knock.
He swiveled toward the glass window facing Main Street. Izzy’s nose pressed against the glass. Her wide eyes showed shock.
His ribcage concaved and he couldn’t breathe. He’d been caught. He should’ve closed the blinds he’d installed on the large windows facing Main Street. Quinn had confessed to hearing him, but she didn’t know his background. His sister did, and knowing his sister, she wouldn’t leave.
Limping to the front door, he battled with himself. He didn’t want to talk to her about playing and composing again. He didn’t want to admit anything or face the real demons plaguing him. If he did his sister would realize he had hope and if he fell flat on his face or the music abandoned him again, she’d understand his devastation.
He unlocked the door and Izzy launched herself into his arms. She’d always been a hugger and always ignored his wishes to be alone. Letting her hug linger, he tried to put off the inquisition.
“You’re playing again.” She sang. “I spotted you through the window.”
He swallowed the anxiety. “Yes.”
She pulled out of his arms to stare. “Why do you sound so sad? It’s wonderful.” Unbuttoning her coat, she studied his expression. She squinted at the piano. “You’re composing music again? Can I hear?” She must’ve spotted his handwritten notes.
His lungs shredded with panic. He didn’t know what to say. “Yes. No.” His raw emotions were part of the song. He wasn’t willing to share. Limping back toward the piano, he snatched the sheets moving them out of her target range.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.” He wasn’t ready to expose himself. What if she figured out who the song was about? She understood his process and how most of his music was related to his emotions. What if she realized the song was about Quinn? What if Dax found out? “No.”
Izzy placed her hand over his on the piano. “You haven’t written anything for five years.” She used an it’s-a-miracle voice.
In a way it was. The block in his mind had been a solid concrete wall. One no one could chisel through. And yet, Quinn had managed. She’d chiseled through his need to be alone, through his music block, and through his heart.
“When did you start playing again?”
He shrugged and tried to be vague. “A few weeks, Nosy Izzy.” A few days.
Studying him, assessing him, his sister’s green gaze lit. “Since Quinn arrived.”
He sunk onto the piano bench. The want and desire he’d poured into the song tangled like mixed up sheet music with the fear and uncertainty of being no good or losing the music again. Sharing would open him up to sympathy and possibly news leaking out. He could deny, deny, deny. Except his sister was smart.
“I thought I saw something between you two, but…”
He glanced sharply in her direction. “But what?”
Izzy’s face went soft, her eyes swimming with sympathy. “I was at the pub, and I saw Dax and Quinn together.”
Reed’s chest constricted, even though he’d known. Hell, he’d asked her for his brother. “They had a date.”
Izzy’s brows furrowed. “I thought I saw a spark between you and her.” She sounded disappointed she’d been wrong.
Her sympathy had him jumping off the piano bench. “Ridiculous.” Quinn had already slept with his brother. “Who would want to date me?” He limped toward the back of the studio. Each drag of his foot dragged on his heart.
Izzy rushed to him and grabbed his arm. “Don’t you be ridiculous.” Using her stern-lecturing voice, she tugged on his arm with emphasis. “So you limp. Big deal. You have so many qualities a woman would love.”
He mellowed, until he realized she was his sister and had to say nice things. Flattening his lips, everything hardened. His back, his midsection, his attitude. He couldn’t be weak on this point. Every time a small hope ignited about being with Quinn it was quickly doused. “Dax and Quinn are on a date.”
“You’re sure it’s a date?” Izzy didn’t want to believe him.
Reed snapped. “I know it’s a date because I’m the one who asked her out for him.”
“What?” Her laughter mixed with the question. “That’s brilliant. Dax, the professional womanizer, doesn’t know how to ask someone on a date?”
“He’s getting over his break up with his ex-girlfriend.” Reed crossed his arms.
Her gaze roamed him at a rapid, calculating pace. She was putting a sharp note with a flat note and figuring out the wrong composition. “So he suckered you into helping him.”
He hung his head. He’d been a chump. What kind of man asks out the woman he’s attracted to for his brother?
* * *
Early the next morning, Quinn sat behind the counter of her dance studio. Anxiety arabesqued in her stomach. Her studio opened for free classes Monday. The studio itself looked great, only a couple of small fixes. Unfortunately, the list of people signed up for the free classes was dismal.
Reed shuffled down the back set of stairs. He halted when their gazes met, and he glared. She wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong.
“Morning. Everything okay?” She studied him wearing his uniform of jeans and flannel shirt. It was a style she’d begun to appreciate.
Dark shadows under his eyes. Unshaven cheeks. Messy hair. And yet, he still looked good. Marvelous, really. The roughness drew her in.
“Fine. Everything’s fine.” He plowed by her and toward the other side of the counter, where a couple of lights needed to be installed.
“You seem surprised to see me.” Which she didn’t understand. It was her studio.
He ran fingers through his hair, messing it even more. He had that just-out-of-bed appearance, and it made her wonder how he looked in bed. Naked. His thick, carved muscles would hold his body above hers. His legs would twine with hers. When their skin touched it would erupt like a forest fire. The arabesques twirled faster, making her woozy.
“I thought you’d have a late night. Sleep in.” His tone accused.
The arabesques stopped spinning, confusion making her more dizzy. “Not late at all. I’m still recovering.”
His dark expression cleared. A short smirk appeared on his face before he struggled his mouth into a frown. He picked up the light fixture and stared. “Oh.”
“Are you working on something in the studio today?”
He worked all day long and played piano all night. No wonder he appeared tired.
His cheeks reddened and he stared at the ground. “I was going to play the piano.” He raised his head. “But since you’re working…”
“I love hearing you play.” She slammed her mouth, shut not wanting him to know she’d been listening during the night. She’d admitted it the one time and he’d gotten upset. Best to keep her midnight concert attendance a secret. “I mean, I’d love to hear you play again. After the first time. It would be a pleasant diversion from my nerves about the opening.” In her fear of discovery, she confessed her worry.
“Nerves? What’re you nervous about?” He moved to the piano and sat, seeming so confident and at home at the instrument. The exact opposite from the day they’d met when he’d kicked the piano.
“Opening show. Getting students. Making my business a success.” A million other details.
His fingers tinkled lightly over the keys. The music was easy, soft and soothing.
Her tension lightened, and she leaned against the counter. Closing her eyes, she let the music calm. She’d always loved different kinds of music. Symphonic, classical, pop, and rock. Even ballet music she loved. She could lose herself dancing, forgetting about the aches and pains and politics.
“Tell me about your plans, Prima Dancing Teacher.” His low voice carried across the room on the melody. He was one with the music similar to when she danced.
“Free classes start tomorrow. I have toddlers in the morning, and grade schoolers after school.” She stood tall and stretched her calves and feet. On tippy-toes, she glided toward the piano, drawn by the music, drawn by him. “A few high schoolers in the evening, and even fewer adults later at night.”
“Busy schedule.”
The music soothed. His closeness would soothe more. She wanted to be by him, sit next to him, feel his arm muscles while he played. Swaying forward, she perched on the edge of the piano bench. She took in the heat of his body and his manly-clean scent. “Yet not enough students per session.”
Glancing at her, he didn’t shift away. “What will help?” He continued to play a light melody. Nothing as passionate as what he’d played last night.
He knew the right music to choose for the mood. He ran a successful business. He’d understand her questions and concerns.
“The grand opening showcase needs to be a success. A large audience who will see the fun the participants are having.”
“Who have you suckered into it beside me?” His teasing grin sent butterflies flittering in her chest.
“For adults, I have Izzy and Parker, and a few others. My main business will come from kids, so I need to recruit more for my free classes.”
“I can talk to a few parents I know.”
The flittering changed to warmth. “Would you? You were so great yesterday in front of the studio.”
Playing, his face was free of tension. He played the piano effortlessly, listening and responding without missing a beat. He played like a professional. Yet, he’d never mentioned any experience, and neither had his siblings, when she’d questioned them about Reed. In fact, it was as if the years between his childhood and his return to Castle Ridge didn’
t exist.
“Izzy and I were invited to a friend’s house for Sunday dinner tonight. She has a daughter. And her daughter has friends.”
“That would be wonderful.” Warmth rose to a slow simmer. She stroked his muscled arm, wanting to communicate how he made her feel.
His fingers clattered and he stopped playing. Because of her touch? “Let me text Danielle and ask if you can join us.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to me an imposition.” Although it would be nice to get to know more people and make friends.
“She’s family and she hosts Sunday dinners. She always asks me to bring a date.”
Quinn stiffened. She pushed her lips together, trying to stop the envy. “Do you often bring dates to these dinners?”
“I rarely go. Only when Izzy nags me into it.” He picked up his cell phone sitting on the other side of him.
Quinn peered over his shoulder at his phone. His texts were a stream of sentences, so much longer than one side of Dax.
“Danielle is a single mom, and tries to give her daughter a normal life. She believes a big family dinner is important, and since she has no family living in Castle Ridge, she invites us.” He texted again. “All set. Dinner is at five.”
“Thank you.” Quinn clasped his arm, wanting to touch him one more time, feel his thick muscles, and feel the thrill she got with each contact.
“What other worries do you have?” He asked as if he wanted to lift the weight of the piano from her shoulders.
The sensation of being cared for, of being coddled, lightened her soul. The men in New York she’d dated were involved in the ballet world and thought of her as a commodity. Being seen with an up-and-coming dancer, or positioning themselves for a better role. Her few relationships burned hot and died. She’d never fallen in love. Never met the right kind of man.
She stared at Reed tinkling with the keys. Was he the right man? While she loved hearing him play, she wanted to caress him, hold him in her arms.
“We should practice our dance.” Standing, she held out her hand.
The Romance Dance: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance Page 12
