Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
He picked up his favorite guitar, the rare 1962 Sunburst Fender Stratocaster that always traveled with him, and began to feel his way through a new melody he’d been working on. Within seconds, he was deeply engrossed in coaxing out the new rhythms and harmony, his callused fingers moving with fluidity and precision. He fixated on the strings as if they held the secrets of the universe, and then he closed his eyes. He’d always worked hard, practicing and refining his music, and it had paid off with the career he’d dreamed of. He had dozens of hit songs at his fingertips, but this was what he liked the best: working on something new.
As the melody shifted, Damien moved from the strings of his guitar to the keys of a keyboard set up beside him. The change in instrument brought a different energy to the air, and he stopped to write down a couple of new chord sequences that sounded better.
Lost in the mechanics of songwriting, Damien had no idea how much time had passed when he suddenly felt he wasn’t alone. Fingers still hovering over the keys, he lifted his gaze and found Crystal smiling softly. In an instant, the air shifted. Recognition sparked between them like an electric current, and the gentle happiness that filled her dark eyes made his heart race.
“I buzzed myself through the gate,” she said. “I thought I’d find you here. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
He rose from the bench, the keyboard forgotten, and approached her with open arms. The hug that followed was tentative at first, but there was also a comfort, a rightness in the way their bodies aligned. As they pulled apart, an awkward silence settled—a shared awareness of something deeper than friendship simmering beneath the surface.
Crystal looked gorgeous in a pair of skinny Levi’s and a white T-shirt, her black hair hanging in a shiny sheet, silver hoops dangling from her ears. “Is this a new piece you’re working on?”
“Yeah, it’s… something different,” he admitted, the words trailing off as he glanced back at the keyboard, then at her. Damien ran his fingers through his tousled hair, suddenly at a loss for how to explain his new direction. “Just a bit of improvisation.”
“It sounded great.” Then, after a pause, “Different. I liked it.”
The sincerity in her voice grounded him. “Yeah?” he asked, suddenly feeling shy and a little protective about his new music. But before she could answer, he said, “It’s something new I’m playing with. Anyway, enough about that—everyone’s been talking about the birthday bash the other night. I even received a thank-you note from the birthday girl.” He cracked a grin. “I wonder if she has any idea how much her hubby shelled out for the event.”
Crystal laughed. “Billionaires buy the best and know it doesn’t come cheap.”
“They sure got the best when they hired you,” he told her. “I’ve been to Grammy afterparties that weren’t as well coordinated, or as much fun.”
“Thanks,” she replied, her cheeks turning pink at the praise. “But having you there is what made the party special, you know that.”
He chuckled, grateful for the shift back to their usual friendly banter. “Did I make ice sculptures that featured the birthday girl as a mermaid? Or design a menu that even the hardcore foodies are still raving about?” Damien scoffed playfully. “You nailed it. Made the front page of the Sea Shell. Written, of course, by my sister.”
“Erin definitely got the scoop, being that… and one of my oldest friends.”
“Shall we head into the house?” he asked. “I can make you a coffee.”
“You still remember how to make a cappuccino?”
He laughed. “Yes, I know my place. It’s always my job to make the coffee when I’m home. In my parents’ house as well as my own.”
Together, they walked back to the main house and Damien took his position at the fancy barista machine Howie had installed in his kitchen. When the milk was perfectly frothed, he handed Crystal the cappuccino and made himself a green tea. They took a seat at the table outside, where the fruit salad was waiting. Now he felt the pink rose was a cheesy gesture, and hoped Crys would imagine his staff had placed it there.
Without asking, he served her a generous portion of fruit salad and then went to warm up the pancakes.
Crystal sipped her coffee slowly, looking as though she was really savoring its taste as her dark eyelashes fluttered across her cheeks. He smiled to himself, glad he hadn’t lost his touch. And then her fingers traced the rim of the cup and something tugged deep inside him. For a crazy moment, he imagined those fingers tracing his lips. How would it feel for her to touch him that way? He shivered.
After he brought over the plate of warmed pancakes and slid a couple onto her plate, he put a jug of pure maple syrup on the table.