Page 53 of The Perfect Melody
“You thinkI’mannoying?” I ask, my brows shooting towards my hairline.
She smirks. “I saidalmost.” Her expression turns serious. “Believe me, I’ve spent enough time around musicians to know skill when I see it. You’re talented, Austin. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“Thanks.” Pushing aside the irrational jealousy I feel over Cassie spending time with random musicians, I decide to reciprocate her attempt at friendly conversation. “I’m a little rusty. Most of my attention has been on the bar lately, but your performance on Saturday reminded me how much I enjoy playing.”
Baby-blue eyes sparkling with delight, she gives an exaggerated gasp, hand to her heart. “Austin Bowman, are you saying I, the bane of your existence, inspired you?”
Unimpressed with her antics, I give her a flat stare.
She giggles, then takes a deep breath, sobering. The toe of her trainers lightly taps against my shin. “I’m glad you’ve started playing again. It’s important to make time for the things you love.”
Our eyes meet, and the silence that follows makes it hard to breathe. Our unspoken agreement not to discuss what happened between us on Saturday leaves the air thick with tension in the resounding quiet.
Cassie clears her throat. “When did you start learning to play?”
“When I was ten—Thomas at the B&B taught me.”
She smiles. “Esther mentioned he used to teach. Apparently he stole her heart with a song he wrote just for her.”
“I believe it.” That man’s got charm to spare, and he adores his wife. “Have you ever written a song for anyone?”
“No. People like to speculate, but all my love songs were inspired by the kind of love I hope to find one day.”
“People?” I ask, head cocked.
Her eyes widen. “You know, after gigs and stuff. Sometimes I hang around for a bit afterwards to chat with people. It’s one of the questions that always comes up. ‘Who’s the song about?’” There’s an edge of panic to her voice that I don’t understand.
“OK. Maybe I’m just not the curious sort, but I wouldn’t have thought to ask who your songs were about if I didn’t know you. It’s not like they’ll know the person you’re singing about.” That doesn’t mean that I’m not interested in knowing who inspired the original song she played on Saturday night, but that’s different. Cassie and I are… friends now. It’s only natural for me to want to know who hurt her so badly. I find it hard to wrap my head around why strangers would care who her love songs are about unless… A light bulb goes on in my mind. “Are you from a small town like Pine Grove?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Afraid not. I’ve always been a city girl, though I’m beginning to see the appeal of small-town life.” Her smile is small, and there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes as if we’re sharing a secret. “So, did you keep up your lessons all through school?”
I shake my head. “Not quite. My dad left when I was eleven and we couldn’t afford them anymore, so I stopped for a while.”
“That sucks. I’m sorry.” She reaches out to lay a sympathetic hand on my arm.
“We were better off without him,” I assure her. Cassie doesn’t need to know how hard it was at first. How much responsibility I had to take on. “Anyway, when I started secondary school, I would pick Aria up from the primary school, then we’d walk over to the B&B and hang out there for a bit in the afternoon while Mum worked. Thomas and Esther had a soft spot for us. They made sure we got a snack and did our homework, then Esther would keep an eye on Aria and the front desk while Thomas gave me a free half-hour guitar lesson in the dining room. We stopped our lessons after I turned sixteen and started working at Bowman’s after school instead, but I kept playing.”
“I’m glad you did. You’re a real talent.”
I raise my brows, showing my scepticism.
Not having any of it, Cassie locks her gaze with mine. “Hey, I mean it. You have a gift, Austin.”
Taken aback by her intensity, it takes me a couple of heartbeats to find my voice. I swallow thickly. “Thank you.”
Her head dips slightly in approval. In this moment, she’s not an employee who’s eight years my junior. She’s a woman knowledgeable in her chosen field, sharing her informed opinions with someone who has considerably less experience. I may have been playing for years, but I’ve never performed for anyone other than Thomas and my sister. Cassie knows what she’s talking about, and she’s not the type to give false compliments. If she says I’m good, then I’m good. Warmth fills my chest as I look at her. Something intangible passes between us, and I reconsider bringing up what almost happened between us the other night.
Without warning, Cassie hops to her feet, a bright smile pasted onto her face. “I should grab those napkins before someone thinks I got lost back here.”
Before my brain finishes processing her words, she’s gone. Something unnervingly close to disappointment trickles into my bloodstream. The guys are right. I need to get out more if I’m so easily turned inside out by a beautiful woman and a sincere compliment.
Shaking out my hands to dispel any lingering sense of… whatever confusing cocktail of emotions Cassie’s interruption has left me with, I take a centring breath then refocus on my guitar. There’s enough time for me to settle my nerves by playing one more song before I need to get back out to the busy bar. The bite of the metal strings beneath my fingertips is barely noticeable thanks to the callouses I’ve developed over the years, but the sensation grounds me all the same.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Austin
It’s beena couple of days since Cassie walked in on me playing in the office at Bowman’s, and we’ve not run into each other since. She’s only part-time and our paths aren’t due to cross again until the weekend. Yes, I checked the rota even though I already had her schedule memorised. I try not to think too hard about why that is. It’s not that weird—I am the one who made the rota. Unfortunately that justification crumbles when my inner voice helpfully points out that, aside from my own, I don’t know anyone else’s shift schedule by heart.
