The Romance Dance: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance

by Burton, Allie

  The piano wasn’t his mistress anymore, Quinn was. Or, he hoped she’d be. He hoped she’d be more than a mistress. Once she’d forgiven him, he’d sweep her off her feet and into a romantic marriage proposal.

  Picking out a scale, he recognized certain attributes from his piano. Even out of tune, the piano sounded familiar. With some love and attention, she’d be as good as new. He could move the piano into his new house when it was ready. He’d convince Quinn to move in, too.

  With hope soaring, his fingers glided across the keyboard. The possibilities for the future, his future, their future, played in his soul.

  * * *

  Quinn had pounded on Reed’s apartment door. No answer.

  She’d called his cell phone. No response.

  She’d even texted his brother and sister to ask where he might be. No idea.

  Frustrated, she flopped onto her lonely bed and glanced out the back window.

  A light was on in the detached garage. A glimmer lit her mind. With hurried steps, she went down the stairs and out the back door. She put her hand on the garage door knob and turned.

  The large tarp was gone, and beneath it stood a black grand piano. The dusty piano had scratches on its legs and was bigger than the one she owned. Professional and well-loved. That’s not what her eyes were drawn to.

  From his seat on the bench, Reed’s fingers flew across the keyboard. His curly, dark hair flopped in front of his face with the movement of his hands. His expression appeared vulnerable, and he poured his agony into the song. Her heartstrings tethered to him.

  The melody changed and slowed. Went from anguished to a tune she recognized from sitting on the stairs night after night listening. “Is that my song?”

  His fingers stilled. His chest moved up and down. “Yes.”

  The song was amazing. Hearing the music and knowing the lyrics hit her hard. She couldn’t believe she’d argued over something so beautiful. Her throat went dry. “It’s beautiful.”

  Stretching to her toes, she stayed by the doorway. He’d been in the wrong. And even though she’d struck back with unkindness, he needed to apologize. To accept responsibility.

  He lifted his head and stared. She could get lost in those emerald orbs.

  “I’m sorry I helped my brother in the beginning.” His tender expression and round, sorrowful eyes tugged. “Once I realized something was developing between us I stopped. I should’ve told you right away what I’d done.”

  He must’ve read her mind. His forthright and honest apology was a spring shower, cleansing and enlightening. Unable to hold onto her anger, she rushed to the piano bench and sat beside him. She’d missed his scent, and his warmth in dance class and in bed. She loved the sensation of him at her side or in her arms. Of him always being there for her.

  “I didn’t give Dax the music sheets with your song.” Reed’s voice held a plea. His expression begged for forgiveness. “The sheets were lying on my coffee table this morning.”

  Her rigid stance from this morning had already softened and his words melted her to mush. She wanted to forgive. And she wanted to forget, to move past their argument. “I was so upset about being fooled. I should’ve asked you, not been cruel.”

  From this point forward, if she doubted him she’d ask.

  “Dax must’ve texted you before I told him about our relationship.” Reed took hold of her hand and their fingers intertwined automatically, as if they were meant to be together.

  Her heart soothed and swelled with hope. “What did you tell him about us?”

  She knew what she wanted Reed to say—that they were a couple, that this was more than dating, that it could lead to something permanent.

  He lifted their entwined hands and kissed her knuckles. “I told him we were together.”

  Her shoulders dipped. She’d take together for now because the lyrics in the song said so much more, told her so much more about his emotions. “The lyrics are amazing.”

  “Thank you for forgiving me and for being my inspiration.”

  She liked being his inspiration.

  He turned to her and placed his mouth on hers in the slightest movement of a kiss. A yearning grew inside her for him and only him. She teased her tongue along the seam of his mouth, needing to taste him.

  “I wasn’t ready to share the song with anyone yet,” he murmured against her mouth.

  A twinge of guilt doubled in her midsection. His fiancée Elizabeth had gone behind his back and messed with his career. Quinn wasn’t messing with his career, though, she was giving him a push in the right direction by emailing the song. Music executives were busy. By the time her friend got around to reading the email, she and Reed would be in sync about his future.

  About their future.

  “Are you ready to share the lyrics with me now?” She untucked his shirt and ran her hands up his strong back. Her fingers electrified with contact.

  “With you? Yes.” His mouth whispered on the corner of hers. Kissing her neck and behind her ears, he slipped his hands under her shirt and cupped a breast.

  The electricity spread a sizzling shock through her system. “I’d love to hear you whisper the chorus while we make love.”

  Imagining the words of desire being blown into her ear as if she was an instrument and Reed the musician, she groaned. He was a musician. A virtuoso with the piano and his songs. A virtuoso with her body.

  “Quinn-tessential.”

  She sighed at the meaningful nickname.

  He pushed open her blouse and kissed a trail from her neck to her chest. “I trust you.” He nipped a nipple between his teeth and she stopped thinking and imagining. She only felt. “I trust you with my words and with my heart.”

  * * *

  Reed installed new lighting in the lobby of Castle Ridge Lodge. He’d done a lot of work for the lodge, and yet the owner wouldn’t even consider a bid from him to remodel the restaurant kitchen. The man wasn’t taking local bids.

  He wouldn’t let that get him down. Things with Quinn were going spectacularly. They spent every free moment together talking, laughing, dancing, making love. His music had returned, and with it, his spirit. He trusted her and believed in her. She’d become the other half of his soul, making his life complete.

  The other night they’d attended the Castle Ridge Snow Festival. The local event celebrated the ski season before the tourists arrived. He and Quinn had strolled hand-in-hand through the festival. He’d introduced her to old friends he hadn’t spoken to since his return, and she’d handed out brochures for her studio.

  He might’ve been introducing her, but he was the one being reintroduced into society. His strut past the booths and carnival rides picked up pace. He liked being out in public with Quinn. Liked the recognition and camaraderie. Liked getting to know his old friends and neighbors again.

  “I can’t believe how crowded this event is. I didn’t realize how many people actually lived in Castle Ridge.” Quinn’s smile never left her face. Her happiness brightened his world.

  “Between the people in town and the people who live in the surrounding backcountry, we’re a good-sized area.” A perfect size. He’d always thought of Castle Ridge as small. He realized now it was perfect. The population, the location, the local attitude. He was happy here. “Add the skiers from down the mountain, and the people who come from all over the world to ski, and our size triples.”

  “Probably why we never met as kids.” Her voice quieted. “I was only a visitor staying with my grandparents for a week or two.”

  “You said their house was on Pearl Street, right?”

  She hadn’t shared much about the place, just how devastated she’d been when she’d had to sell. His house could be on the same block.

  Her smile faded. “That’s right. It was several blocks from Main Street, because the house had been built on a larger lot.”

  He should show Quinn his house. How he planned to restore the home to its former glory. How maybe someday they could…. He sho
ok off the thought unsure of where she believed their relationship was going. He knew what he wanted but he didn’t want to rush. They’d only known each other three weeks.

  She spun in front of him and gave him a kiss. “How about a ride on the Ferris wheel?”

  “You won’t get cold?” His concern for her overtook everything else.

  Giggling, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “We’ll cuddle and you’ll keep me warm.”

  His body heated and he agreed. Then, he’d bring her home and get her even hotter.

  Buzz. Buzz.

  His phone ringing brought him back to the present. The light he was working on was only partially attached, and he couldn’t let go. His hands were full. “Can you tell me if it’s Quinn calling?”

  Danielle sat behind the reception desk reading a college textbook and grabbed his phone off the counter. “It’s a New York number.”

  “Would you mind answering for me?”

  “Sure.” She picked up his phone. “Hello. Reed O’Donnell’s phone. May I ask who’s calling?” Totally professional, she paused and listened. “Hold on a sec.” She placed her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “It’s a Mr. Stewart.”

  “Never heard of him.” He screwed in the next bolt for the light. “Do you mind asking what it’s regarding?”

  “No problem. I’m not busy this morning.” She was always willing to help a friend. “Reed is in the middle of something. May I ask what this is regarding?” Her serene-professional expression changed. She smashed her lips together a couple of times, and sent him an unsteady glance.

  Must be bad news. More curious than upset, he knew nothing could ruin his day.

  “Um, sure. I’ll tell him. Hold on.” Her voice was stiff, uncertain. She covered the phone again and squeezed it in her hand. “Reed. This man says he’s a music executive. He received a copy of your song called For Quinn, and wants to buy it.”

  What his friend said blurred together and then slowly, word by word, the sentences processed and re-formed in his head. How could someone from New York have seen his song?

  His mind kaleidoscoped with different options. Dax was the only other person who’d seen the song. He hadn’t recognized what the music sheets he’d copied from actually were. He didn’t know anyone in the music industry. And he hadn’t known what had happened to the sheets after Reed had shoved them in the stereo manual.

  The music of joy symphonizing in his head changed into a tone cluster…or a clusterfuck. His ribcage tightened, and punctured his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stand. His entire body trembled.

  His arms were dead weight. His hands dropped. The light fixture crashed to the ground and shattered.

  Shattered like his trust.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Reed’s heart lay on the floor broken like the light fixture. There was only a single possible way a music executive had gotten the one song he’d composed. And it wasn’t from his brother.

  Quinn.

  He hadn’t planned to send his song out into the cruel, harsh world. Not his baby. The words and chords were for her ears only. For her pleasure. He hadn’t pitched a song in a long time and hadn’t planned on doing it again.

  The sensations vibrated bringing back the time when his partner had stolen his music and passed it off as his own. The betrayal was just as sharp. Sharper this time because he’d trusted the person doing the theft.

  “Reed, are you okay?” The concern in Danielle’s tone didn’t comfort.

  Nothing could comfort. He slouched against the ladder and gaped at the glass pieces lying on the carpeted floor of the lobby, feeling the same way. Smashed and broken into hundreds of pieces. He’d trusted Quinn. Trusted her with his music and with his love. If she betrayed one she could easily betray the other.

  “Mr. O’Donnell will have to call you back. Can I get a number?” He heard Danielle’s voice through a haze. Saw her move around the reception counter and toward him in a fog.

  A fog of disappointment and fractured dreams.

  “Climb down, Reed.” Placing her hands on the ladder, she coaxed him. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  He took one rung of the ladder going down, down, down. Just like his hopes. Sinking into the oblivion of betrayal.

  “Come here.” She opened her arms and he went into them. Her short stature didn’t compare to Quinn’s height, but Danielle’s honesty and dependableness were worth a lot.

  A spike struck his empty chest. The torment wove between his ribs.

  Elizabeth hadn’t loved him. She’d loved his celebrity. He’d believed Quinn loved him for himself. His new self. The one who lived in Castle Ridge and did construction and heard music in his head and played piano only for her.

  Not for anyone else.

  She’d asked about him playing for the New York Symphony again and pushed him about composing.

  He didn’t want to be a professional pianist, and his new music wasn’t ready to be analyzed and reviewed. Why would she send it off without his permission? Without even an acknowledgement?

  His shattered heart froze. Cold anger hardened everything inside him. He was a glacier. Did Quinn only want a relationship with him because he might be famous again someday? Was she as addicted to celebrity as Elizabeth?

  Danielle patted his back. “Did you injure yourself when the light fixture fell?”

  “No.” He choked. He hadn’t hurt himself physically.

  “Good.” She continued to pat his back. He barely felt the touch with the rapid rushing of his pulse. “The light can be replaced.”

  A light could be replaced. Not his broken heart.

  “So, you wrote a new song?”

  “A ballad.” To his love.

  A numbness seeped through his bloodstream and hardened his veins into ice. An ex-love who’d betrayed his trust and shared a gift she’d had no right to exploit.

  “That’s wonderful.” Danielle’s voice shook, unsure where to take this conversation. “I take it you didn’t send it to the music executive.”

  “No.” His tone was frigid.

  “Who did?”

  “Quinn.” He spat the betrayer’s name.

  After all they’d done together and shared. After the dancing and him playing the piano for her. He’d told her the song was only for her. After the lovemaking and the promises, she’d gone behind his back and betrayed him.

  * * *

  Reed had charged out of the lodge with a promise to pay for the light fixture. He’d jumped in his truck and careened through town. His subconscious drove him to turn right and left. He ended up on Pearl Street and pulled into the driveway. Staring blindly through the windshield at the house he’d believed would become a home, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to an inner angry beat. Being at his home should’ve soothed him. It didn’t. A crescendo of notes clashed in his head.

  He was too infuriated. Too embittered. Too lost.

  Jumping out of the truck, he slammed the door and stomped up the front porch. A front porch made for relaxing evenings and visiting with neighbors. He wouldn’t have any of it now, because he wouldn’t sit out here, he didn’t care to meet the other people who lived on the street. He’d go back into his cave.

  Quinn had made him believe in himself again. Believe he could make music and he could love and be loved. By breaking his trust, she’d broken that belief. She wanted him to be famous, or make more money, or have celebrity, so it would shine on her. He should never have come out of his self-imposed exile.

  It was safer. No love, then no hurt. No music, then no rejection.

  He shoved the key in the door and tromped inside, glad he’d never told Quinn about the house. Glad he hadn’t brought her here and shown her around. Glad her presence would never taint the hardwood floors or the large living space meant for a family.

  His head pounded with furious, unessential notes. Unessential because he didn’t plan to ever play or write them down. To his amazement, the music hadn’t stopp
ed, even though he was broken and shattered. He hadn’t gone mute. The music played on and on and on in his mind.

  A blessing or a curse?

  Even without Quinn, he’d hear the agony of the music in his head forever. The agony of lost love, of betrayal, of abuse of trust.

  The noise echoed in his chest, shouting and clanging and causing chaos. Before when the music wouldn’t stop, the sound had been calm and less noisy. Not filled with fury. Because Quinn had caused this firestorm in his head and in his heart. The only way to calm the fury was to never see her again. He trembled. Never see her again. The best choice. The only choice.

  He gripped the wooden banister and slid his hand over the smooth surface he’d spent hours sanding. With the holiday season approaching, he’d pictured Quinn helping him decorate for the first time, starting their own traditions.

  There’d be no traditions. No baking or decorating. No fun.

  Hobbling toward the fireplace, he rested his forehead against the hearth, letting the cold hardness of the stone cool his ire. The imagined cold nights cozying up by the fire with Quinn sputtered out. His chest emptied to nothingness. His head banged on in a slow, slow rhythm.

  The tune might be a death march, but it was music. The music hadn’t died. The music flourished with an agonized, tortured melody. A melody that would haunt him.

  Unless maybe he figured it out by playing and writing it down. He couldn’t listen to the terrible noise in his head getting louder and louder. If he composed and wrote the notes, maybe the beats wouldn’t drive him insane. And then he’d burn the music sheets so no one else saw them, or claimed them as their own, or sent them off to music executives.

  Back at the Victorian house on Main Street, he ignored the pull toward the dance studio and went up the back stairs. He didn’t want to see Quinn. He had nothing to say. The music in his head would speak for him. It would flow out in the anguish and heart break.

  The song would sit on sheet music, useless except to exorcise his demons and kindle his fireplace.

  Opening his apartment door, he found Izzy and Dax sitting on his couch. Both sat with their arms crossed and identical expressions of unease. Understanding he was being attacked by a loving army, Reed hunkered his shoulders and waited for the blows to fall.