Tricks(28)

The air between us was charged, so much so that it practically vibrated my skin.

I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to press myself as close her as I could get.

A bright light turned on us and caused the moment to break. Both of us squinted and looked around for where the hell it was coming from.

The guy at the piano was holding a spotlight on us. A freaking spotlight.

His voice boomed over the microphone that was attached to the piano. “You know it’s that time of the night for me to take a break and for someone out in the bar to entertain us all.”

Seriously?

“And I couldn’t help but notice the love birds sitting over there,” he said, flickering the light on us once more. “So how about it? We need some entertainment!”

I glanced at Charlotte. Her eyes looked like saucers and she was shaking her head adamantly. “Oh, no,” she said, and I could tell she was ready to bolt.

I wasn’t ready for her to leave.

I disengaged my hands from her and pushed back from the table. Everyone in the bar screamed and whooped.

Nothing like a bunch of drunk people to give a man confidence.

I heard Charlotte call my name and I shot her a grin, then walked toward the piano.





14




Charlotte

I was drinking beer.

In a piano bar.

On a weekday.

Not only that, but I was enjoying it. Like really enjoying it.

His presence was exciting, like being around him was somehow an adventure. And the way he looked at me… I’d never seen that look before. It was like I was a giant candy bar and he wanted to peel away the wrapper so he could inspect every inch of the chocolate.

It made me feel naked, yet I was fully clothed.

It also loosened my tongue.

Or maybe that had been the beer. Or the wine. Whatever it was, I just told him things that I only ever kept to myself. I never let anyone know how much I wondered about my father and what he would think of me now. I never talked to anyone about coming home from school that day and finding him lying dead on the carpet.

Those things affected me. Affected me in ways I still felt to this day. And I never spoke of them because it made me feel weak. It made me feel self-conscious.

But his touch acted like Miracle-Gro to a flower. I felt my petals, my feelings unfurling from deep inside me and opening up, blooming right in front of him.

And he didn’t look at me like I was weak. He didn’t look at me like my feelings were silly.

He looked like he understood.

How had we never had a conversation like this before?

I wondered what else we would have talked about had it not been for the piano man that, up until this moment, I actually enjoyed. Until he suggested I get up and sing, that is.

I did not sing.

As far as I knew, Max didn’t either.

Did he?

I watched in fascination as he strode up toward the small stage. The navy dress pants hugged his butt a little more tightly than usual and his back muscles strained beneath the white dress shirt.

A few of the women sitting around whooped and whistled, and the burning sensation of jealousy scorched the back of my throat like acid. It was the first time I ever felt jealous that a woman was checking out Max.

Usually I found it flattering.

Tonight I found it annoying.

He stopped beside the piano and spoke briefly to the man who called him up there. He smiled and then crossed behind the large wooden instrument and bent, picking something up from against the wall.

Max draped a thick strap across his shoulder and swung a guitar up across his middle.

People in the audience cheered as he stepped across the stage and sat down, letting his feet hit the floor. A hush fell over the room. Even the singing drunk guy shut up (Thank God for that).

Anticipation coiled through the room like a deadly snake, and I found nerves fluttering around in my stomach for Max, wondering what in the world he was going to do.

And then he started playing.

His thick fingers strummed the chords on the guitar with perfection. A song I wasn’t familiar with but he seemed to know with ease.

And then he started to sing.

The bottom dropped out of my stomach. His voice was absolutely stunning. Entrancing. Tunnel vision claimed me and it was as if I were staring through goggles that only pointed in one direction.

His.

His voice was raspy and jagged, like a broken piece of glass. There was so much emotion behind the words—which were about love and loss—that my heart began to ache. Every single person in the bar was completely ensnared.

I don’t think anyone looked away; no one even dared to breathe.

My God, how had I lived with this man for almost a year and never seen him this way? Should I start stocking the fridge with beer?

The song dropped a little in tone and his voice slid down into that deep and smooth place that literally lifted the fine hairs off my arm. I hung on his every word.