Finally, he sits back, wiping tears out of his eyes with his thumb and shaking his head. “You’re good. I haven’t laughed like that in ages.” He plants his elbow on the table and leans his face on his fist, like he’s settling in. “Tell me about yourself, Lauren.”
I shift in my seat, not sure what to make of his order. “What do you want to know?”
His eyes flicker over me, down then up, lingering in a few places along the way. He points one finger at my neck. “You have that mark. Like Gabby. The hickey. Violinist?”
I nod.
“You like it?”
“I love it.”
“But?”
I lean my hand on my fist, mimicking his posture. “But what? Who said there’s a but?”
He smirks. “Oh, there’s a but.” His voice is soft, almost a caress, barely audible over the noise of the reception going on around us.
With a sigh, I give in. “But I’m struggling right now. I recorded an audition for a concerto competition a couple weeks ago. And I really really want to move on to the next round. Well, what I really want is to win. But one thing at a time, right?”
He nods when I glance at him, and I continue. “Right. But it was rough. I had to do a bunch of takes to get a satisfactory recording. And even then, I could hear the wobbles and the places where the pitch wasn’t quite centered, you know? And Damian, this guy I know who’s a cellist, he played the best ever for his recording. He’s probably going to win. He’s amazing.”
Brendan simply stares at me, taking me in as I ramble about all my fears and doubts and worries that I’m not good enough. How I want to perform, be a soloist, but I don’t think I ever will. And since I’m a performance major, I can’t even fall back on teaching school orchestra. I’ll probably end up being a secretary somewhere so I can pay my bills while playing for a community orchestra a few times a year and teaching a few local violin students in Yakima.
I’ve never said any of that out loud. To anyone. Ever.
And it all comes tumbling out in the face of his impassive expression and those eyes that see right through me.
Finally, I stop and distract myself by picking at the napkin on the table.
“Wow,” he says at length, and I look up to find a tiny smile playing over his mouth. “That’s quite a but.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
He picks up his glass, but it’s empty, so he sets it back on the table. “What else?”
“What do you mean?”
He gestures at me with his free hand. “What else? Tell me more. What else do you want to do besides play the violin? Travel? Adopt orphans from Africa? Climb Mount Everest?”
I shake my head, smiling. “Climbing Everest would be murder on my hands. How would I ever be a soloist then?”
He shrugs. “Then what?”
I think about it for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “You know? I’ve always wanted to go ice skating in Rockefeller Center. Like they do in the movies. Just once. I think it would be fun.”
He stares at me for a moment, his face unreadable as his gaze falls to my lips then climbs back to my eyes. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter Three
Brendan
“What? What do you mean?” Her pink lips open in shock, and I have to tear my eyes away from them. That weird possessiveness rears up again. I don’t understand why I feel this draw to her.
But her dream is so simple. And easy for me to make come true. I want to. I want to give her this one little thing, something fun for her to hang onto while she battles her demons with the violin. An escape before she has to dive back into the grind of school.
Sitting back, I feign unaffectedness. That’s my schtick. My brothers and I each have our thing. I’m the quiet one who stays out of the mess. Unaffected by all of it. Even though right now my gut’s all twisted up, hoping she’ll agree to go with me.
“What I said.” I pick a pretend piece of lint off my cuff like I couldn’t care less if she agrees to my impulsive plan or not. “I drove up here from LA. We can leave after the reception. Or wait till morning. Whichever.”
She chokes on her astonishment. “You want to drive there? From California? In December?”
I raise my eyes to hers. “Do you have other plans?” I lean forward, deciding to show a few of my cards. “Personally, I could use the distraction. Something to fill the downtime between now and when I start my internship in five weeks. Otherwise I’ll just be bored at home, and my mom will come up with all kinds of ‘projects’ for me to work on for her. With her. Take your pick. We’ll have plenty of time for that after I get back from taking you to New York.” With my luck, so soon on the heels of my brother’s wedding, her “project” would probably be trying to find me a girlfriend. She’s happy to have Colt traveling around with Jonathan, but I know she wants one of us close to home. If she finds me a girl to tie me down, then I’m locked in, right?
Not interested.
Lauren searches the room, clamping her mouth closed over more spluttering, her nostrils flaring. When she returns her eyes to mine, she’s calm and composed again. A mirror of me. Interesting.
“I need to be home by Christmas. Otherwise, no.”
“Where’s home? You didn’t say.”
She studies me for a beat. “Chelan, Washington.”
I nod like I have any idea where that is.
“Don’t worry.” She gives me a condescending smile. “I’ll point it out for you on a map sometime.”
“I’m sure I can Google it myself.”
She shrugs and looks away again. I have to hand it to her. From stunned disbelief to cool as you please in seconds. She’s good.
I wonder what else I can get her to mirror. I squash that thought before it can take root. Yeah, she’s pretty. Gorgeous. But she’s volatile and unpredictable, and tempting as it might be to give in to the stereotype of banging a bridesmaid at a wedding, making a move on my new sister-in-law’s best friend seems like a dumb idea.
I like Gabby. Don’t want to piss her off before she’s even been part of the family for twenty-four hours.
“What do you say?”
Lauren locks eyes with me. “Let’s do it.”
We leave the next morning while it’s still dark, heading toward the faint glow on the eastern horizon. We’ll miss brunch this morning, but it was optional anyway. I told my parents I’d be missing it last night after the reception, once Lauren and I nailed down our plans.
Lauren sits in the passenger seat, silently cradling a to-go cup of coffee from the hotel as she stares out the window. She insisted on getting pastries and coffee before we left, a small suitcase and a thin garment bag her only luggage. She’s dressed in leggings and an oversized long-sleeved shirt that clings to her curves, highlighting them more than it disguises them. As soon as she settled into the car, she kicked off her Toms and curled her feet under her.
We’re about twenty minutes into our trip and haven’t spoken other than to say good morning.
I don’t mind, but from what I’ve seen of Lauren, it seems like strange behavior.
“Not a morning person?”
She glances at me, amusement flickering across her face. “Not particularly. This is even earlier than I get up for classes. And you care because …?”
“Who said I did?”
She snorts and faces the window.
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. “Look, you seem like a talker. I don’t want you holding back on my account. We’re going to be in the car together for a while. Might as well both be comfortable.”
This time when she looks at me, she turns her whole body, settling against the car door. I check to make sure the lock is engaged. Don’t want her accidentally catching the door handle and tumbling onto the freeway.
She holds her coffee cup up in front of her face and taps one finger on the lid. “Would it make you more comfortable if I talked?”
“I don’t care either way.”
/> For some reason that makes her laugh. “Trust me, I don’t think either of us would be comfortable if I gave a stream of consciousness narration of our trip.”
If she’s trying to convince me that her thoughts are boring, she’s doing a terrible job. “Oh yeah? What makes you say that?”
A half-smile pulls up one side of her mouth, but she only shakes her head as her answer.
“No. Now I want to know. What uncomfortable thoughts are you having over there?”
Sparing her a glance, I catch her eyes sweep down and back up my body. She’s attracted to me and thinks that will somehow make me uncomfortable? I smirk back at her.
With a shrug, she sips her coffee. “Just wondering how you’re going to fit in your backseat when it’s my turn to drive.”
“I’m sorry, what now?”
Her half-smile turns into a soft laugh. “Surely you don’t plan to drive the entire way to New York City. And long road trips mean sleeping in the car. Or do you plan on only driving a few hours and then stopping at a hotel? At that rate it’ll take over a week to get there. Christmas is two weeks from tomorrow. While I don’t object to a few nights in a hotel in New York, I in no way have the budget for two weeks’ worth of hotels. Plus, my parents would be livid if I didn’t get back till Christmas Eve. And if you drive me to Washington after New York, you wouldn’t even make it home by Christmas. Wouldn’t your parents be pissed?”
I shift in my seat, which makes her laugh again, that same sexy sound. That doesn’t help me feel more comfortable either.
Dammit, she’s right. Her train of thought isn’t anything like I expected, and it’s distinctly uncomfortable. Let her drive my brand new Charger? This is my baby. I just got her as a graduation gift from my parents. Everything’s new and shiny. She still has that new car smell. Though I suppose a cross country road trip will take care of that.
But I can’t drive the entire way to New York. She’s also right about that. With a sigh, I concede. “Fine. You’re right. That’s not a workable option.” I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. “But I’ll do most of the driving, only taking breaks when I have to.”
She holds up her hands. “Naturally.”
I give her another narrow look, trying to decide if she’s being sarcastic or not. Not that it matters. “We’ll push through until we can’t, and get a hotel when we need to. Don’t worry about the cost, though, I can cover it.”
“Hey, no. This trip was my idea. We’ll split gas and hotels. And pay for our own food.”
I laugh at that. “I’m sorry, in what way was this trip your idea? All you said was that you had a fantasy of ice skating at Rockefeller Center. I’m the one who suggested we go. All you did was agree to come with me.”
She opens her mouth, then snaps it shut and turns to face the windshield. I wait, eyebrow raised, for her to say something. But she doesn’t.
“Point to me.”
She shoots me a glare and sticks out her tongue. I laugh. Then she starts laughing too, and for whatever reason, I feel more relaxed now. When I glance at her again, she seems more relaxed too, more settled into the seat, less stiff in some indefinable way.
I like it. I don’t know why. I shouldn’t really care this much. But I do. Which is the whole reason I suggested this crazy plan. I want her to be happy. Want to watch her face light up like it did yesterday when she brought up skating at Rockefeller Center. Want to give her this small thing that she believed was an impossible dream.
Her performance aspirations? No one knows better than my family how fickle that can be. Between my mom’s vocal nodes destroying her career and Brash’s meteoric rise and fall, we’re intimately familiar with broken dreams. I can’t guarantee she’ll have any success or even help pave the way for her. I have no connections in the classical music world.
But this? This I can make happen.
Chapter Four
Lauren
I still haven’t figured Brendan out. He’s my best friend’s brother-in-law, and he helped me out last night, so I feel safe with him.
But …
Why?
What does he care if I never skate at Rockefeller Center? And why latch onto that one thing?
He didn’t even seem that interested in me until last night with him rescuing me from that pushy jerk face. And then with all the questions. From anyone else, I’d think maybe this was some elaborate scheme to get in my pants, but he doesn’t give off that vibe. So why decide to take a spur-of-the-moment drive across the country? Is he just a bored rich guy who decided I’m entertaining company?
I mean, I know why I feel like running away from everything. Ditching all the stress of life, the fact that all my friends are pairing up and leaving me behind, that my chances of ever getting the life I always dreamed of are looking grim right now. But I guess of all the possible places to go and things I might want to do, it’s a pretty easy thing to make happen. Especially if he can afford to up and leave at the drop of a hat like this and foot the bill for the whole thing.
There’s another subject I can’t classify my feelings on. On the one hand, I’d rather not spend all my savings from the summer on this one ridiculous trip.
On the other hand, I don’t like feeling like a mooch.
Rather than think about it more, I decide to turn the tables on him. Ask him to tell me more about himself. Because so far I’ve been doing all the sharing, and he’s been a closed book.
I place my empty coffee cup in the cup holder and scootch around to face him again. “What were your plans for after the wedding?”
He gives a careless shrug. That seems to be his thing. Careless shrugs. Careless smiles. Careless interference between me and a guy who doesn’t understand the word no. Carelessly tossing out offers of road trips to make one of my long-held secret fantasies come true.
It’s like he’s out of some weird fairy tale.
But he’s not the prince or the knight in shining armor.
He’s more like the fairy godmother.
I have to bite back my giggle at the sudden mental image of him dressed up in a blue robe with a big pink bow at the neck waving a wand around and singing “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo.”
A slow smile pulls at his lips. “What? What’s so funny?”
I wave him off. “Nothing. Just something I was remembering. Not important. What is important is finding out more about you. Like you said, we’re stuck together for a while. You know my biggest fears and secret fantasies. Tell me about you.”
Even sidelong, his look is scorching. “I don’t remember any secret fantasies being discussed. What kinds of fantasies?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. Threesomes with two hot guys. Having a naked houseboy.” I wave a hand airily. “Nothing to write home about.”
Brendan seems to be choking on his own spit, and I let the smile that’s been fighting to get out take over my face. “What? Do you object to the naked houseboy? Or the threesome?”
Two spots of color have appeared on his cheekbones, and he tosses a glance at me as he changes lanes to pass a slower car. “Ah, no. That’s just not something most girls would say.”
I shrug. “I’m not most girls.”
“No, you’re definitely not.”
He mutters the last comment, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to respond or not. So I don’t. Because what am I supposed to say to that anyway? Instead, I wait for him to navigate past a few more cars before reiterating my earlier question.
“Anyway, we were talking about you, not me.”
“Were we? I can’t say I remember that.”
“Yes, I’m sure. You detoured us into fantasies.”
He gets a thoughtful look. “I can’t say I’ve ever wanted a naked houseboy, but I can see the appeal of a threesome.” He glances my way. “I don’t think I could get down with another guy, though.”
I nod and reach over to pat his arm. “I understand. I know all about fragile masculinity. Remember? We discussed it yesterday.”
&n
bsp; His jaw clenches as I withdraw my hand, and I turn my head to hide my smile. Point for me.
“It’s not about fragile masculinity. Naked guys don’t turn me on, though.”
“So? You wouldn’t be there for the other naked guy. The point is that you’re both there for her. It’s about the girl, not about you.”
He considers that for a moment, and I think he’s about to admit defeat, but he comes back with, “Okay, then if a guy agrees to do that for you”—that heated gaze rakes over me again, and I have to force myself not to squirm, because damn—“turnabout’s fair play, right? You’d be willing to get naked with another girl and make the focus the guy’s pleasure?”
I blink at that question. “Uh …”
He chuckles. “See? Not so easy when you’re the one pushed outside of your comfort zone.”
Folding my arms, I reach up to stroke my chin, ignoring Brendan’s laughter. “No, I see your point. I suppose if I were in a relationship”—I cut my eyes to him—“not that this is ever likely to occur for a wide variety of reasons—but if I were with a guy, and he’d be willing to make a fantasy threesome happen for me, then it would only be fair for me to do the same for him if he wanted.” I point at him. “Again, this is all completely hypothetical and filed under the realm of extremely unlikely.”
His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t quite smile. “Oh yeah? The threesome part or the relationship part?”
Damn him and his perceptiveness. I just give a noncommittal hum as an answer, because I realize that he’s dodged my question again. “So Gabby said you were going to school in Phoenix but you graduated a semester early.”
“She said that, huh? Why were you two talking about little ol’ me?”
“She did say that. What are you planning on doing after you get back from our little adventure? I think you mentioned an internship?”
For a minute, I don’t think he’s going to answer. But then he lets out a long breath. “Yeah. I have an internship.”
Overtones (Songs and Sonatas Book 6) Page 2
