Heat washes over my face, and I’m sure I’m red to the roots of my hair. “Please. Like you don’t know that you’re attractive.”
Shifting his weight to one foot, he crosses his arms, his grin spreading. “Well, yes, I know there are women who think so. I’ve even been called pretty a time or two. But there’s a difference between that and knowing thatyouthink so.”
I roll my eyes and flip through the pages of my gig book, newly stuffed with solo violin pieces I pulled from the depths of my repertoire and piano sheet music I found online for free for the standard processional and recessional music. I’ve scribbled on it to make it an arrangement I can play on the violin. “It’s time for me to start,” I murmur. “So if you’re going back to your car, now’s the time to make your escape.” I finally meet his eyes, doing my best to keep my face calm and polite. “If you want, you could even leave. I’m booked for an hour, so just be back by then.”
He cocks a single eyebrow, his expression almost disbelieving. Holding my gaze, we’re locked in some kind of weird staring contest. It probably would’ve lasted a lot longer, but it’s broken by one of the ushers bringing me a chair.
I smile at the young man. “Thank you so much,” I murmur, and when I glance back at Jason, his posture has relaxed, and he’s scratching his cheek.
“Right. I’ll let you get to work, then.” He wrinkles his nose. “Part of me wants to stick around and listen to you play.”
“But the rest of you wants to run away from Julie. How about this—I’ll play for you afterward. We can go back to your house, or find a park somewhere, and I’ll give you a private concert.”
Something sparks in his eyes at that, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s heat. Like the idea of a private concert is some kind of sensuous treat or code for sexy times.
At my quizzical look, he shakes his head and straightens, taking two steps back and pointing to me. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“Let’s do a park,” I say, disconcerted by his reaction to the private concert idea. “I can call it busking. Make a few extra bucks while I’m at it.”
This time, his eyes light up like that’s a fun idea. “Ooooh. Could we make a duo?”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I dunno. Do you play anything?” When his brows furrow and lips purse in thought, I wave him off. “We’ll talk about this later. Go!”
With one last grin, he waves and heads back toward the car, going the long way around so as to avoid Julie, who looks like she wants to intercept him but has more pressing matters to attend to with the guests beginning to arrive.
“What kind of duo does he have in mind?” I mutter to myself, but I don’t have any more time to think about that because it’s time to play.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jason
I decideto drive around and scope out nearby parks while I wait for Hailey to finish her gig. When I asked her to play for me, I’d really intended for us to go back to my parents’ place. I was thinking a song or two, really. Nothing special or lengthy that would require a particular venue. It’s just … I haven’t heard her play since she was constantly scratching away at “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” I remember Hunter complaining about her practicing all the time, but I thought it was pretty cute that she was working so hard.
Plus,wepracticed all the time. We spent our off-seasons cross-training, running, and doing other things to help make us the best athletes we could be. At least until Hunter couldn’t anymore. Why shouldn’t Hailey spend her time working to be the best musician she could be? I never thought it was all that different.
She has a degree now and gets paid to play. I’m sure she’s amazing, and I’d really like to hear how different she sounds now versus what I remember.
If she wants to busk in a park, though, who am I to say no? I had to Google the term to discover it’s when street musicians play for money with their open case or a tip jar. I also saw some advice about putting a few bills and maybe some coins in the case to encourage more people to toss some money in, so I also make a quick stop at a convenience store and buy a snack to get some cash back in small bills. This wasn’t planned in advance, so I doubt she has the seed cash she’d need on her.
I spot a couple of likely places that seem to have a good amount of foot traffic—one with a splash pad nearby, so there are a lot of families, and another with a shady playground that also seems to attract a lot of people. I’m not sure how big families are on tipping musicians, but worst case, she keeps the money I toss in her case to get things going, and she’s still up by a few bucks. Plus whatever she’s making from her gig today.
The hour goes by surprisingly fast, and I stand next to the car as I wait for her to finish up and head my way. I spot the wedding coordinator and quickly turn to face the other way so I don’t make eye contact.
I saw the way she was looking at me—like she’s some kind of predator and I’m a scrawny little mouse just waiting to be gobbled up.
While I’m more than capable of turning down a woman I’m not interested in, I don’t want to make things awkward for Hailey.
Fortunately, the coordinator’s busy enough that she doesn’t come over and insist on getting my attention. At least not before Hailey arrives, all smiles.
“How’d it go?” I ask, pulling open the back door for her to stow her gear.
“Great! And I got a big tip on top of my usual fee.”
“That’s awesome.” I hold up my hand for a high five, she gamely smacks it, and I grin. “Remember when you were little,and you used to try to hit my hand as hard as you could when I’d ask for a high five?”
She chuckles, straightening and brushing a piece of hair out of her face. “Vaguely. That sounds like something little kid me would do, though. Especially to one of Hunter’s friends.” She shakes her head slowly. “And you werealwaysaround.”
Hands in my pockets, I shrug, unapologetic. “He was my best friend.”
