Dancing on a Moonbeam (Bedford Falls Book 1) (25 page)

"I thought so," Liam said, not sounding convinced. "Likely you'll come back to LA and forget all about her."

He grunted. That thought pissed him off.

His friend chuckled. "That's what I thought. Maybe give her a call."

"And then what?" he groused.

"Ask her out to dinner. Or a drink. Or just invite her over and play the piano for her. I don't know. I've heard you have moves. Use them."

He didn't want to use moves on Eleanor. "It's too late to call. It's after midnight here."

"Jesus, Max. Go throw pebbles at her window then." The exasperation in Liam's voice was loud and clear. "Or call your dad. Leo always has good relationship advice."

He winced, thinking of what his dad would tell him. Likely that he needed to man up, or write Eleanor a song. "You've been a real help, Liam."

"And if you can't figure it out, call me back. I can fly out and help you."

"
That
I don't need." The mere thought of Liam's "help" made him shudder.
 

His friend laughed as he hung up, the diabolical sound echoing in Max's head after the call ended.

"Throw pebbles at her window," he repeated, snorting. As if she'd be able to come out and go for a walk—or whatever. Even if she wanted to, which seemed farfetched, why would he do throw pebbles when he could text her?

Because it was in the middle of the night, and she was probably asleep with her phone off.

Because throwing pebbles was more romantic.
 

Because he was insane.

He got up and went to get his shoes.

Outside the air was cool and refreshing. The crickets chirped loudly as Max scrounged on the ground for small rocks to throw at Eleanor's window. Fortunately, the moon was full and bright so there was plenty of light.
 

He shook his head—he was actually doing this.

With a handful of rocks that he was pretty sure wouldn't break her window, he faced the house. Which room was hers?

"Fuck it," he murmured, getting out his phone to text her.
Are you awake?

Her answer came back right away.
Yes. Why?

Turn your light on
, he replied.

A light went on in a room upstairs.

Bingo. He walked closer to it and threw the little rocks a bunch at a time until she came to the window and opened it.

Leaning out, she looked down at him. She had that robe on that she had answered the door with one time, and he tried not to think about what she might—or might not—have on under it.
 

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

He had no idea. "Come down," he said simply. "Put clothes on," he added, because he didn't need more temptation.

He'd expected her to argue, but she stared at him silently for a few seconds and then went back in without a word. The light went off, and he waited.

And waited, for what seemed like forever until the front door opened, and she stepped out. She had on yoga pants and a long sweater tied in front. Her hair streamed around her shoulders, and her lips glistened in the moonlight.

His entire body exhaled in relief. "This isn't a bootie call," he told her.

"Bummer," she said, standing before him. "Then why are you here?"

He took her hand. "I wanted to look at the stars," he improvised.

Her lips curved sweetly, and her fingers wrapped around his. "Okay."

He looked around. Where should they go?

"You don't have a plan, do you?" she asked, sounding amused.

Shaking his head, he looked down at her. "The only plan I have is to steal a few kisses from you."

"It's not stealing if they're offered to you." She gave him a sidelong glance and tugged him to follow her.

For kisses, he'd gladly trail after her to the end of the world.
 

Eleanor led him to the back of her house, past the construction site and a line of trees to a pond. It took him a moment to realize it was the same pond where he usually sat, only on her side instead of Liam's.

She sat on the grass and pulled him down next to her before she lay on her back, one arm behind her head. "I love clear nights like this," she said softly. "Even with the moon so bright, you can see all the stars."

"Do you know the constellations?" he asked as he reclined next to her.

"A few. That's Orion." She pointed up to the sky. "He's easy to spot because of his belt. How about you?"

"I think I can pick out the Big Dipper." He turned his face to her. "But I can name any symphony in two notes."

She curled onto her side, toward him, and took his hand. Her fingers were cool and soft, and he resisted the urge to hold them against his heart.

"I had fun dancing," she said. "I was surprised to see you out with Bernie and his cohorts."

"They're nice guys. Anya was something."

Eleanor chuckled softly. "That's one way to describe her. She's encouraging me to choreograph a program for her."

He faced her. "That's great."

"I can't do it." Her expression darkened with doubt. "I'm so far out of that realm that I wouldn't know where to begin."
   

"Maybe you're underestimating yourself."

"Maybe." She glanced at him. "How did you do with your music today?"
 

"I made some headway, but I'm having trouble focusing, and without putting the tutu on."

"Just think how much you'd have gotten done with the tutu on." She faced him, her expression becoming serious. "It's been hard for you. Is it always?"
 

He glanced at their hands. "No, not at all."

"Why do you think you're having so much trouble with this score?"

"Honestly?"

She grinned. "No, lie to me."

Sighing, he looked up at the sky. "I don't know. I usually take critique and run with it, but this time it's almost like I've lost my motivation to fix it."

"What are you motivated to do?" she asked.

He faced her. In the moonlight, her eyes gleamed dark and mysterious. In them, he could see inspiration for a thousand symphonies and endless nights talking like this. He pulled her closer. "I think I mentioned kisses earlier."

She chuckled as she let him nestle her partway onto his chest. He felt the percussion of her laughter through his chest, and something in him clicked into place.

Her hand rested right on top of his heart. "Well, I
am
supposed to be your muse. I suppose if kisses are what you're motivated for, then I can help."

"I was hoping," he murmured as he met her lips with his.

Right before their lips touched, she said, "You'll get your music done, Max."
 

He cupped her face, holding her hair back from her eyes. "You have that much faith in your ability to inspire, huh?"

She shook her head. "I have that much faith in you and your talent."

Chapter 17

Eleanor felt great.

She'd stayed up way later than she meant to, talking with Max. And kissing, which was
very
nice.

She'd gone out with a friend,
and
she'd danced. One song, sure, but her partner had been divine.

She'd made an appointment with someone to come look at the remodeling. He'd given her a tentative quote that was within her price range, and he sounded friendly and knowledgeable over the phone. She had a good feeling about him.

And
several people had emailed her regarding classes, for children as well as adults, and that thrilled her. It was promising.
 

Enthused, happy, she sat down to answer emails and finish setting up her website.

Sometime after noon her phone rang. It was a local number, but she didn't recognize it. Maybe someone calling for information about her studio. Smiling, she answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Can I speak to Eleanor Westwood?"

"Speaking." She eased back in her seat. "Are you calling about dance classes?"

"In a way. My name is Mary Delarosa, and I'm with the Bedford Falls building department."

Eleanor sat upright. "Is there a problem with my permits? My contractor, Travis Scott, said that everything was taken care of."

"I'm not calling regarding building permits, although I see here that you have a remodeling project going on."

"Yes." Eleanor frowned. "Are you calling about classes?"

"In a manner of speaking." There was some shuffling of papers on the other end, and the woman muttered something indistinct. "A flyer about your classes was brought to my attention. As I understand, you're planning on operating a dance studio from your house?"

"From the carriage house in the back." She tried to breathe through the pending feeling of doom. "Are you interested in classes? I plan to offer both group and private lessons."

"I love to dance," Mary said with a sparse bit of enthusiasm. "But I'm afraid that's not why I'm calling."

"Do I need a different permit or something to have classes here?" she asked optimistically.

"No, because you're in a residentially-zoned area."

"Oh." She wilted in relief. "That's good then, right?"

"No, it's not, because you can't run a commercial business from a residential space. There are zoning issues."

Her heart stopped, and she dropped her head into her hand. This was
not
happening. "What does that mean?"

"It means, for instance, that you aren't able to increase parking spaces to accommodate the people coming to take lessons. It's in violation of the residential zoning. Your studio will be shut down if you have more than a car or two in addition to your own on a regular basis."

She couldn't operate a studio and make money with only one student at a time. "Is there something I can do? Maybe I can change the status of my property to commercial?"

"Changing zoning isn't an overnight thing, and it requires the planning commission as well as the neighborhood to agree on it. You live just outside town"—there was more paper rustling and mumbling—"I see in your area someone tried to do this a couple years ago, and they weren't successful. That doesn't mean you won't have more success, but it's going to take time."

Eleanor held her forehead. "You're telling me I have no hope of opening my dance studio."

The woman on the other end of the line sighed. "That's what I'm saying."

Tears pricked Eleanor's eyes, and she fought the urge to sweep all the papers and everything off the kitchen table where she was working. She saw the stone Luna had given her and wanted to throw it through the window. "I guess there's nothing else to discuss."

"I'm sorry," Mary mumbled. "I hate this part of my job."

"It's not your fault, right?" Eleanor raised her head. "You said you received one of my flyers. In town?"

"No, it was given to me by another Bedford Falls resident."

Her eyes narrowed. Don't jump to conclusions, she told herself, but sometimes all it took was a minute hop to come to the right answer. "Do you know who it was?"

"The complaint says Barbara Fehr. Is that a neighbor of yours?"

"Or something," Eleanor muttered. She just knew it.
 

Mary said something indistinct about contacting the building department if Eleanor had any questions and then hung up.

She sat and stared at the pretty website she'd been working on. She closed the browser without saving any of it. She wouldn't need it anymore. Her dream was over.

*
 
*
 
*

Lily texted that she was going to stay the night at her friend Madison's house, so Eleanor asked Robbie to meet her for a drink at Mama's Crowbar.

She got there before he did. Fortunately her dad wasn't there—she didn't have any spare patience to give him tonight. She sat at the bar and sulked into her beer until Robbie arrived.

"Hey," her best friend said, pulling up a stool next to her. He exchanged a man-shake with Sean and ordered himself a beer before he angled toward her. "I was surprised you wanted to go out on a school night."