Dancing on a Moonbeam (Bedford Falls Book 1) (14 page)

"No." She shot a look that clearly stated she thought her mom was lame. Inspecting the fruit basket, she chose a banana and peeled it. "He didn't, you know."

Eleanor shook her head. "Who didn't what?"

"Max next door. He didn't file the complaint." Lily rolled her eyes at Eleanor's blank look. "His friend Liam filed the complaint."

"Liam?" The nice actor? She made a face, confused. "How do you know?"

"I just do." Her daughter shrugged as she sauntered out, eating the banana.

She stared after Lily. Should she believe the brat?
 

Lily had no reason to lie. Plus, it explained Max's surprised reaction to the notice.
 

Why hadn't he told her? She felt relieved knowing he wasn't as much a bastard as she thought. Still, she wasn't taking any chances. She was taking no prisoners.
 

Pursing her lips, she marched outside, across her yard to the Reynolds' back door. She banged on the door, and then she opened it without waiting.
 

The sound of a piano sang through the house. She stopped, caught in its haunting tune. Nonetheless, it struck her heart, making her want to sway and twirl in rhythm to its cresting melody.
 

Now wasn't the time, though. Focusing, she squared her shoulders. "I want to talk to you," she yelled into the house.

The piano music stopped abruptly. The next moment he appeared through an archway. "Come in," he said with a lift of his brow. "Make yourself at home."

She ignored his sarcasm. "I've come to bury the hatchet."

"In my head, I bet."

"Tempting." But she shook her head. "No, I really mean it. I've come to make peace and ask that you drop the complaint again."

He shook his head. "Listen, I don't like holding up your project. I really don't. It's just self-preservation on my part. I need quiet to figure out my movie score."

She felt a ping of sympathy in her heart. "How much more do you have to write?"

"All of it," he said, his shoulders slumping.

She blinked. "All this time and you haven't done anything? You're still having trouble with your soundtrack?"
 

"Yes." He didn't sound pleased.

She nodded thoughtfully. "So it'd be safe to say that the quiet days you've had didn't actually help you."

His gaze narrowed. "Why do I feel suspicious?"

"Because you're untrusting," she replied with a sunny smile as the idea took hold. "But I can work with that."

"Work with what?"

"You." She pointed at him. "Since the quiet hasn't helped you write your music, I'm going to."

"You're going to do what?"

"Help you write your score," she said slowly, because obviously he was having a slow morning. "In return you're going to let me remodel the shed into my dance studio. Win-win, see?"

"No, I don't." He crossed his arms. "What do you know about writing music?"

"Absolutely nothing," she said happily. "But I understand movement and rhythm, and I have timing. I can do this."

"No, you really can't." He shook his head. "It's not going to help. This is what I do, and I'm having trouble coming up with anything that works. There's no way you'll be able to help me write anything."

"I'm not going to help you write. I'm going to inspire you."
 

"What do you know about being a muse?"

"As much as I know about writing music." She grinned. "But I'm sure I can read up on it on the Internet."

He rubbed his neck, studying her. "You're really serious," he said after a long pause.

"I am. This is as important to me as your music is to you. You're going to let me finish my project so I can open my dance studio." She held out her hand. "Shake on it."

He took her hand, but instead of shaking it he used it to tug her against him.

She gasped as she came in contact with the firm length of his body. "What are you doing?"

"Testing how inspiring you can be," he said as his mouth lowered to hers and he took her in a kiss.

Dancing on a Moonbeam

Part 2

To Jenn.

A friend is someone who offers sympathy when your life unexpectedly crumbles.
 

The very best of friends offers you her fire pit so you can burn your wedding dress on your anniversary.
 

Jenn is the very best of friends.

I love you.

Chapter 1

Even fairy tales couldn't do the kiss justice.

Snipping wheatgrass from her window planter box, Eleanor relived yesterday's kiss over again for the millionth time. She remembered the way Max had lowered his head to hers, his lips warm and firm, sure of what they were doing. It was the only place he'd touched her, but she'd felt him all over her body nonetheless.
 

Sighing, she leaned against the counter, hand to her chest. That kiss hadn't just opened her eyes, it had opened her heart. She wasn't sure how she felt about that yet. Historically, her heart hadn't been the most reliable source of wisdom. Hindsight made that loud and clear.
 

Looking back, Eleanor saw that there were signs that her husband wasn't the best man, even if she chose to ignore them. She'd been stupid, she scolded herself as she stuffed the wheatgrass into the juicer. She never should have given up dancing for him.
 

But she was rectifying the situation. Soon, the construction on the shed at the back of her house would be finished, and she'd start teaching ballet in her new dance studio. It wasn't the same as dancing herself, but it was the best she could expect to accomplish at forty-one years of age.

Which brought her to that kiss again, which sealed the deal she'd made with her temporary next-door neighbor.
 

Total mistake—the kiss and the deal. Shaking her head, she put a shot glass under the juicer and turned the machine on. She watched the bright green liquid trickle out and tried not to think about what she'd done.

Only that was impossible. She supposed making a deal with the devil
would
be hard to ignore, especially when the devil kissed like an angel.

"What are you doing?"

She startled, looking over her shoulder guiltily as her sixteen-year-old daughter sauntered into the kitchen.
 

Lily pointed to the counter. "You're dripping."

Eleanor looked down at the counter and saw the bright green juice had completely missed the glass. "Oh shit."

"I don't think you're supposed to curse in front of your child," her daughter said as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice. "It sets a bad example."

"Any damage to you has already been done," Eleanor said as she wiped the counter. Turning around to throw away the paper towel, she froze as she really looked at Lily for the first time. "What are you wearing?"

"Clothes," the brat replied, taking a swig of the juice directly from the carton.

"Are you sure there's enough material on you to be considered clothing?" she asked carefully. She knew her daughter well enough to know that making a negative remark was exactly the way to make sure Lily dressed like this for the rest of her life.

Lily gave her a withering look and set the carton on the counter, a deep purple print on the spout from her lipstick. Without a word, the teenager started out of the kitchen.

Eleanor watched her daughter walk away with a sway that was trying to be grown up but only achieved awkwardness. She tried to remember herself at the same age—God, it was so long ago—but it was like comparing apples to oranges. When she was Lily's age, she danced full-time for the Joffrey Ballet. She hadn't been a normal teenager.

Not that Lily was normal.

Actually, she didn't know what Lily was, except unhappy.

Putting the juice back in the fridge, she ran out after her daughter. "Lily." She called out when she reached the front door.

The teenager was already to the edge of the road. With a visible huff, she turned around, hand on her hip. "I have to go. Madison is picking me up."

Eleanor took a deep breath and tried to smile. "I thought we could have dinner with your grandfather tonight."

"I'm going to Madison's to work on an English project," she said as she continued on her way.

Well, that was dismissive. Eleanor blinked back the hurt, knowing it wasn't personal.

That's what she told herself, anyway. Most of the time she believed it.

She tried not to think about the day, soon, when Lily would go off to college and what that'd mean for their relationship. Eleanor felt alone now as it was; more distance between them wouldn't make their relationship any stronger.

It scared her—to lose her daughter, but also what it meant for her.

She'd have absolutely nothing once Lily left.
 

Which was why it was so important to reinvent herself now, before she hit that point. She shook her head as she walked around the back to look at the shed.

Soon it wasn't going to be a shed any more: it was going to be the dance studio of her dreams. She stepped over building materials, left haphazardly when the building department had shut down the project because of Max's complaint, and walked into the space.
 

Getting out her phone, she texted Max.
You're withdrawing the complaint today, right?

His reply came immediately.
I'll go to the building department in person. You'll be back in business tomorrow.

She hoped so. She texted Travis Scott, her contractor, to tell him he could go today to pull the permits they needed so his team could finish what they had started. Travis had another job he was starting, and getting everything done in the next week and a half was crucial. He'd given her a special rate because of her aunt, and Eleanor wasn't sure she could afford another contractor.

She'd expected a response from Travis, but another text from Max came in instead.
About yesterday…
 

Oh no—he regretted the kiss. Eleanor gripped the phone, wondering if he was going to tell her that they couldn't kiss again. Kissing wasn't part of the deal they'd made: that he'd withdraw his complaint so she could finish her studio and, in turn, she'd help him find inspiration.
 

I just wanted you to know it doesn't have to happen again,
he sent.

She frowned at the message. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she wrote,
Do YOU want it to happen again?

His answer was immediate.
YES. What, do I look like a fool?
 

She smiled slowly, feeling a warm happiness bloom in her chest.
 

Just making it clear it's not a condition of our agreement
, he texted.

Good
, she replied to him. She added that she'd see him tomorrow to start helping him with the movie score he was writing, even though she had no idea how she was going to do that, particularly if kissing wasn't part of the deal.
 

"Here you are," a starchy voice said from behind.

Eleanor turned around, frowning when she saw her ex-mother-in-law, Barbara Fehr, coming around the house.
 

Eleanor had never loved Barbara, though she'd really tried to in the beginning because Barbara and Charles had always had a close relationship. It was hard to get close to someone who wasn't interested though. And Barbara was only interested in three things: money, Charles, and appearances. In that order.

She had no idea why Barbara was here now, stepping gingerly across the yard, likely worried about getting her expensive shoes dirty.
 

"Lily's gone to school," Eleanor said, because that had to be the only reason Barbara came. Not that Charles or his mother spent very much time with Lily these days.
 

Gaze on the shed, Barbara stood a good ten feet away, her lips curled with distaste. She pulled her coat closer around her as if the environment might contaminate her. "That's too bad. Maybe I can come pick her up this weekend to take her shopping for proper clothes."