Sweet Harmony (6 page)

“I need to get going,” Maria said.

“Can’t you stay for a while?” Pete asked, but reluctantly removed his hand. There was a time when his pride would allow him to plead and it had cost him big-time. “You still have the rest of your martini in the shaker.”

“I’m meeting up with Rick Ruleman a little later. I know we’ve already bounced around some ideas about doing this but needed to run this by you first to make sure you’re still on board.”

“I understand,” Pete said, but then, needing to touch her, reached over and covered her small hand with his. “I’ll pick you up at six Saturday, or do you prefer later?”

“Six is fine,” she said with a small smile and then stood up. “Oh, how much do I owe you for the martini?”

“You know better than to ask me that,” Pete said gruffly.

Maria nodded and the smile she gave him this time was bigger. She started to turn around but then said, “Oh, and Pete?”

His heart thudded. “Yeah?”

Maria pointed to his face. “I like the clean-shaven face. It takes years off you.”

“Then I’m keeping it shaved,” Pete promised.

I did it hoping to please you
, Pete wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat. “Like I said, I needed a change,” he replied with a slight shrug.

“Ah . . .” Something flickered in her eyes, making him wonder whether she’d guessed the truth. When he opened his mouth to confess, someone called her name and she turned to greet them.

When the customers started coming up to the bar, his lack of beard was going to cause quite a stir. Good. It would take his mind off wishing Maria would come behind the bar and help him serve and then get up and sing just like the old days before he’d told her she needed to give up her pie-in-the-sky songwriting dream and raise Clint. He’d been so damned wrong. “Maria, wait a minute.”

“Okay.”

Pete hurried from behind the bar and pulled her in for a quick hug. Her floral scent washed over him and it was all he could do not to drag her into the back hallway and kiss her, but he knew he needed to go slowly, tread softly. “It was good seeing you,” he said in her ear and then stepped away.

“Same here.” Maria nodded, but when he would have said more she quickly turned away. He stood there and watched her walk out the door and felt an immediate sense of loss. But she was having dinner with him Saturday night. It might be about business, but it was at a restaurant and not here. It was a start and Pete planned on taking full advantage, pulling out all the stops to get her back. If he didn’t win her love again, his heart would be forever broken, but this time he wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Hey, baby face, could you quit yer daydreamin’ and get me a Kentucky Ale?” Jack Kemper shouted to Pete. “By the way, you’re lookin’ kinda girly without the beard,” Jack added. He pointed to his own bushy growth of several inches. “Now this is the face of a real man.”

“Here ya go.” Pete slid a cold longneck down the bar with an expert flick of his wrist and Jack deftly caught it. “And if ya care to arm wrestle I think I’ll prove who’s the real man, beard or no beard,” Pete challenged.

“Maybe later,” Jack replied with a wave of his hand. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass ya.”

Pete chuckled. Other than his son, Clint, or some of the Cougar baseball team players, there were few men in Cricket Creek who could best him in arm wrestling. He listened to more jokes about his clean-shaven face. Some patrons didn’t even recognize him and when he went to the bathroom in his office and looked in the mirror he was momentarily startled. He did look much younger without the beard—and physically fit too, thanks to Clint. Pete reached up and rubbed his hand over his chin. Did Maria find him attractive? Damn, she worked with countless famous singers. How could he begin to stack up next to the men in the circles she ran in?

Pete shrugged his wide shoulders and then leaned his hands against the cool edge of the sink. “All I can do is give it my best shot.”

Pete sighed. Seeing her in passing when she popped into town had been tough as hell. But now that Maria lived in Cricket Creek and he’d been seeing her on a regular basis—if only for business—he had to wonder how in the world he’d managed to live without her for all these years without going completely crazy. If she’d dated, he didn’t know about it and never asked Clint anything more than about her well-being. Imagining her in the arms of another man was just too much to bear, so he never let his brain go there. Pete shook his head. Damn, just seeing smarmy John Jameson touch her was enough to make his blood boil.

Pete gripped the sink harder and then pushed back. Although they’d been divorced for years, he’d never really stopped thinking of Maria as his wife. And he’d never even considered dating, because he knew no one would ever be able to take her place in his heart. So why even bother?

Pete felt a zing of excitement at the thought of the romantic setting on the patio at Wine and Diner. Maria might think this was all business, but to him it was so much more. He wondered whether he should show up with flowers, or would that seem like a date? Would the prospect of a date scare Maria away or was it what she’d been waiting for all along?

And then another thought hit him. Just what in the hell was he going to wear? His wardrobe had never been much to write home about in the first place, and the recent weight loss made the selection even smaller. He ran a hand over his smooth cheeks. If he wanted to put his best foot forward, he was going to have to enlist some help or end up on Maria’s doorstep looking like a big-ass dork. No, he wanted to have her look at him with admiration and perhaps desire.

Pete closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He’d gotten a hug out of her here and there but he wanted more. How would Maria react to a kiss?

God, Pete’s heart thudded at the mere thought of having her mouth pressed to his. But the big question was, would she fall into his arms or shove him away?

“Ah, boy.” Pete inhaled a deep breath and looked at himself in the mirror once more. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

C
AT LET THE SERENE BEAUTY WASH OVER WHILE SHE followed the worn path through the woods. Spongy moss cushioned her feet and the clean, earthy scent of nature filled her head. She didn’t plan to hike very far, and Jeff had advised her that she’d be fine if she stuck close to the path. If she did happen to lose her way, all she had to do was follow the gurgling creek that fed into the river and it would lead back to her cabin. Her sense of direction was sketchy at best but this was simple enough . . . right?

As Cat hiked, snippets of lyrics slid into her brain, and if she’d had a pen and paper, she would have sat down on a rock or fallen log and started writing. The quiet, the solitude, felt so peaceful and helped ease the stress of knowing she and Jeff were going to perform “Second Chances” at Sully’s on Friday evening.

Cat knew that Jeff’s band wanted nothing to do with her. She’d overheard a phone conversation about jamming at some place called Big Red and she wasn’t invited. While she understood that South Street Riot didn’t
want Cat and Jeff to become a duo—they thought it would change the dynamics of where they wanted to take their music—Cat knew they were talented musicians and she wouldn’t be opposed to going on the road with them. Because, like it or not, after a couple of days of rehearsal it was completely clear that her and Jeff’s voices blended together and complemented each other perfectly. Cat had been in the business long enough to know they had that elusive special
something
that would set them apart from others. Maria certainly knew it, and she wasn’t shy about reminding Cat whenever she got the chance.

Cat stopped to catch her breath. A light breeze cooled her skin and brushed her hair across her cheek. She gazed up at the tall pines reaching toward the blue sky. The treetops seemed to be poking toward puffy cotton ball clouds snagging at them as they lazily drifted by without a care in the world.

Although she’d never admit it to Jeff since he remained so stubbornly opposed, the idea of becoming a duo was kind of growing on Cat. She nibbled on the inside of her bottom lip and thought about it for a moment.

Or maybe Jeff Greenfield was growing on her.

Cat closed her eyes for a moment, trying to chase away the vision of Jeff, but it failed to work.

Okay . . . there was no
maybe
.

Cat was totally attracted to him. She kicked at a jagged rock with the toe of her hiking boot and sighed. Jeff represented everything she ever wanted in a man. He came from a solid background and made no bones about how much he cared about his farm and his family all the way down to his dogs, especially Little John, who was evidently as big as a horse. Cat tilted her head to the side. What would it have been like to be raised in a big, sprawling farmhouse filled with laughter and chaos? Cat knew they still shared a big family Sunday dinner; Jeff had spoken of it, and Cat secretly wished he’d invite her.

And during a break when Cat had heard Jeff chatting on the phone with his mother, begging her to bake an apple pie, she’d all but melted. His gentle, teasing tone had been laced with love. Jeff might not have realized he’d been grinning the entire time he’d spoken with his mom, which Cat found endearing and oh so very sexy.

Cat took a sip from her water bottle and then started walking again, this time at a slower pace. She loved her parents dearly, and while she was so very proud of the charity work they did, Cat missed them so much. A little ache settled in her chest, and she sighed. Sometimes she just felt so alone.

While people might envy Cat’s wealthy family, all money had done was make her childhood lonely and then isolated after a kidnapping incident left her parents shaken to the core. Eventually, Cat’s parents sold their sprawling estate in South Carolina and moved to Chicago, where they’d poured most of their time and money into doing good works. Cat smiled softly and then shook her head at the memory of what her mother had disclosed on the evening before Cat had left for Cricket Creek.

“Mom, whatever made you and Dad decide to devote your lives to charity work?”

A shadow had passed over her mother’s face.

“I’m sorry. Did I ask something wrong? I’m totally proud, but I’ve never really completely understood.”

Her mother had stared down at her wineglass as if the rich red liquid held all the answers, and then glanced at her father, who nodded as if to say,
Tell her
. “I . . . We made a promise.” When she swallowed hard, Cat’s father reached over and took her mother’s hand.

“Jules . . .” he’d said in a gruff voice. “You don’t have to speak of it,” he added.

“It’s okay, Daniel,” she’d assured him with a shaky smile. “Cat, when . . . when there was the . . . the kidnapping. I promised God that I’d devote my life to good
works if he’d . . . if we got you back safely.” She sniffed and then smiled at her father with such love in her eyes that Cat had felt her own throat constrict. Her parents were completely devoted to each other and it showed. “Nothing mattered to us but your safety.”

“We wouldn’t relive that horror for absolutely
anything
,” her father explained. “But the result was living a rich and rewarding life helping others. We were forever changed, but for the better.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” Cat had asked gently.

“I never speak of it,” her mother had said, “because it brings back that horrific fear.” She’d put a hand to her chest and shuddered.

“Well, I don’t remember anything,” Cat assured them. But that wasn’t entirely true, even though she’d been only two years old when the incident occurred. Every so often she had nightmares about a small dark space and she suffered from claustrophobia. To this day she slept with a night-light. The smell of car exhaust sometimes made her break out into a cold sweat, making Cat guess that she’d been locked inside of a trunk. Although she wanted to know whether that was the case, the stark look of fear on her mother’s pale face always made her refrain from asking more and she’d turned the subject to something else.

Deep in thought, Cat climbed a rather steep incline, grabbing on to branches for support. She wondered whether the kidnapping had been the reason her parents had never had more children. Although she had friends, she’d never been allowed to spend the night at anyone’s house, and her parents had been understandably overprotective. And while her childhood hadn’t been unhappy, there were times when she’d felt isolated. In her loneliness Cat had often turned to reading, losing herself in stories as if she were the main character. But after learning to play the guitar, she discovered that music
soothed her restless spirit in a way nothing else could, and that remained true to this day. With her guitar in her hands, melodies filled her head and the rest of the world drifted away, leaving her in peace.

When she reached the top of the hill, the first thing Cat noticed was the sheer beauty of the view. “Oh, wow.” She could see the creek in the distance, and judging by the color of the sky, the sunset was going to be spectacular.

Wait . . . sunset?

How long had she been walking? And the creek was way down . . .
there
. When her ADD kicked in, she often got into a zone, a daydream kind of state that made her lose track of time. She wasn’t hyperactive, just scatterbrained and often had difficulty staying focused. She was forever losing things but tried to overcome her ADD by making lists and trying to keep organized. Smartphones with alarms and calendars certainly helped, but now, without a personal assistant, she had to be particularly careful.

Cat pulled her cell phone from her jeans pocket. “Oh, damn, it’s going on seven.” A little flutter of panic hit her in the stomach when she realized she’d been hiking for over an hour instead of the thirty minutes she had allotted to clear her head. An hour back meant it would be dark before she arrived back at the cabin.

Wait. Where was the cabin? She turned in a complete circle thinking it would somehow help, but all it did was make her feel slightly dizzy.

“Okay, calm down.” She lowered her palms downward and inhaled a deep breath. “I’ve got this. Just follow the creek. Damn!” When her mouth went dry, she took a few gulps of water and then had a wild thought that she’d better conserve the rest. She told herself she was being silly and then turned to make quick work of the huge hill she’d climbed. Quick, however, wasn’t the smartest move. She slid and then with a yelp grabbed for
an overhanging branch that stopped her precarious progress. Cat dangled from the branch trying to regain her composure. The toes of her boots grazed the ground, so she was only inches from safety, except she might start a downward plunge if she let go. Maybe if she just eased her grip oh so slowly. “Yes,” Cat whispered.

And the branch broke with a loud snap that sounded like a gunshot. Or was it a gunshot? She’d seen
Justified
. Shit got real in the Kentucky woods.

The snapping sound collided with her scream, and she did a rapid shuffling of her feet in an effort to slow her forward momentum, which resulted in her immediately falling and sliding on her butt. When she ducked to avoid a low-hanging branch, she started a sideways roll, picking up leaves and sticks along the way. Cat grabbed for something, anything, but only ended up with a fistful of weeds. A rather steep patch had her rapidly rolling at an odd angle that thankfully slowed her descent, and when she saw another branch, she grabbed for it and almost had to laugh when it also broke. She came to an abrupt halt, her heart pounding as she wondered whether she was on a ledge and one slight movement would cause her demise. She slowly turned her head and realized she’d landed at the bottom of a hill that seemed like a mountain.

Cat rolled onto her back, breathing hard and not knowing whether to laugh or burst into tears. She remained undecided while humor warred with frustration. “Maybe I should laugh until I cry and let it all out,” she mumbled and then sat up. The world started to spin and for a wild moment she thought she might be sick to her stomach. With a hand to her stomach she took a deep breath and willed the dizziness to pass. “Damned motion sickness,” she muttered. Everyone thought she was a scaredy-cat (which she was) for not riding on a roller coaster, and she would have sucked it up except that she knew she would throw up afterward.

Cat let out a miserable moan. Remembering one of her near fainting incidents of stage fright, she recalled that she was supposed to raise her knees and dip her head between her legs. Or was it breathe into a paper bag? Wait—or pinch the bridge of her nose? Whatever. She leaned forward and rested her forehead on her knees. After taking deep gulps of earthy air her tilted world started to slowly right itself.

“Holy shit . . . Cat, are you okay?”

“What? Jeff? How did you get here?”

“I took the metro.”

“Ha ha, aren’t you the funny one?” she grumbled.

“I try.”

“
Humph
.”
Humiliation rolled over her in droves. How in the world had he found her? Perhaps he wasn’t looking but wanted to see the sunset from on top of that . . .
that mountain
. Mortified, without raising her head, Cat muttered, “I’m perfectly fine.”

“What in the world are you doing?”

“Meditating.” Cat felt something tug at her scalp. “Ouch! Why are you pulling my hair?”

“You’ve got sticks and leaves poking out everywhere. How did that happen?”

“I like the look. Very bohemian,” she mumbled. “You can go away now,” she said rather testily and then remembered she was lost. She would sneakily follow him. “I’m not Zen yet.”

To her dismay, or rather relief, Jeff sat down.

“Did you trip?” he asked so gently that Cat’s eyes smarted with tears. “No. I kind of . . . rolled.”

“Rolled?”

“Well, maybe it was tumbling with a bit of sliding involved.”

“Down the hill?”

“All the way down the
mountain
. On purpose, of course. It makes the meditation afterward seem much more calming.”

“What?” His tone was incredulous, as if he’d never fallen down a hill before. Okay, he probably hadn’t. “Are you serious?”

“Almost never.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Define
hurt
.” She refused to look up.

“I feel as if we’ve had this conversation before.”

“I’m certain it won’t be the last time. I told you I’m, well, accident prone.” She felt him gently tugging foreign objects from her hair.

“Wow, there’s a feather,” he observed with a sense of wonder.

“Part of the whole Zen thing. Very spiritual. Go ahead and roll down the mountain.”

“Please don’t dare me.”

“It’s like being so close to nature. Oh God, wait—do you think I took out a bird on the way down?” She searched her memory. “Surely I would know that, right?”

“Know what?”

“If I murdered a bird.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. Oh, damn—you’re bleeding.”

“I am?” Cat’s heart started to thud and she raised her head. “Like from a gash or something?” The dizziness must have masked the pain. Or maybe she was just getting tough from always getting hurt and her body refused to register pain any longer.

Jeff reached over and examined a rather nasty scratch on her arm. “Damn, Cat, how’d you do this?” He started to examine her in other places. She wanted to give him a few suggestions.

“I think it’s kind of obvious. I fell down an entire mountain. Look, if this is where you play doctor and ask me to disrobe, it won’t happen,” she said, but then thought it could be fun. She sucked in a breath as she flexed her hand. Her pinkie finger looked a bit odd. She held it up. “Do you think it’s broken?”

Jeff failed to laugh and gently examined her finger.
“Maybe,” he said, looking at her with concern. “We need to get you back to your cabin. Do you have a first aid kit?”

“I . . . I don’t think so.” She looked at the scratch and winced. Why was it that it didn’t hurt until he’d pointed it out?

Jeff shook his head. “You of all people should have one, preferably on you, at all times, maybe hanging around your neck.”

Cat didn’t argue. “Ha. Aren’t you just so very funny today.”