AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He sat down, lifted the fallboard and began to play, letting a melody take shape from the emotions churning through him. Music always settled his soul, and the pure tones drew him into a meditative state.
His doorbell chimed, and his pulse took off. He couldn’t remember the last time his heart had leaped like it did in that instant. Forcing himself to walk at a leisurely pace, he headed to the front of his house and opened the door.
Good thing he’d chosen to dress casually. Theresa wore jeans and a silky T-shirt, sunglasses, and a large, floppy sun hat. She took off her sunglasses and the hat. The deep greenish-blue of her shirt set off her dark brown eyes and the warm tones of her skin. He couldn’t help but stare at the vision she presented. Should he tell her how good she looked? Did friends do that? Don’t tip that scale.
Caleb cleared his throat. “Hello.”
“Hello.” Theresa laughed. “How are you this very fine Wednesday evening?”
“All the evenings are fine in Ventura, California.” His heart settled back into place, and he breathed normally again.
“True. The evening is fine. So, how are you?”
“Hungry.” His face unfroze enough that he could smile. “Would you like to come in for a glass of wine before dinner?”
“Sure. I’d also like to see your studio.”
Theresa walked past him, and the sweet, slightly musky scent of her perfume filled his senses. Not the slight scent of soap or shampoo, but … perfume. Hmm. “Right this way.” He led her to his kitchen. “Red or white?”
She set her hat, sunglasses, and purse on the counter. “Red please. I heard you at the piano as I walked up to your door. The piece you were playing was lovely.”
He took out a bottle of Malbec from the top section of his temperature-controlled wine fridge and set it on the counter. “It wasn’t anything. I was improvising. Sometimes I just let whatever comes flow through me to the keyboard.” He opened the bottle and poured two glasses, handing one to her.
Theresa took a sip and moved to the patio door. She studied his backyard as he fished in a drawer for a rubber stopper for the wine bottle.
“Wow, Caleb. Your garden is gorgeous.”
“Gardening is a hobby of mine.” He gestured toward his flower garden. “What you’re seeing is a haven for pollinators, and all the plants are native to California. It’s for the bees, mostly, but I also get a lot of hummingbirds, moths and butterflies.” He opened the patio door. “Would you like to take a closer look?”
“Definitely.”
Caleb followed her along the flagstone walkway leading through his garden. He inhaled another lungful of the enticing scent she wore, taking note of her lush curves, and the sight of her silky dark hair swaying across her back as she moved. Yep. He needed to rein it in.
“What’s this yellow flower called?” she asked. “The way you’ve arranged your garden seems so natural.”
“Natural is what I’m going for here. The yellow one is called moonshine, and the purple flowers next to the moonshine are called margarita bops. All of the plants have unpronounceable scientific names too, but you’ll have heard of verbena.” He pointed to the reddish blossoms. “They’re all perennials, and I only plant drought-resistant varieties. The white flowers in the back are a kind of poppy. I belong to an environmental horticulture club specializing in habitat restoration. Our focus is on creating refuges for bees and other pollinators.”
“What a great hobby.” She gazed around her, looking impressed. “On to your studio?”
“Sure, but let’s leave the wine in the kitchen.” He led her back through his patio doors.
“Right. A spill could be a disaster,” she said setting her glass on the kitchen counter beside his.
Fighting the urge to place his hands on her shoulders, or one at the small of her back, he pointed the way and followed her down the hallway of his rambler to his studio. “I had the walls soundproofed, and this is all state-of-the-art recording equipment,” he said, gesturing around the bedroom he’d converted into his studio.
Theresa walked around the space, inspecting everything, and Caleb tried to view his studio through her eyes.
“I’ve added a few verses and made the song more story-like. When it’s completely finished, we should record it here in your studio.” She glanced at him. “What do you think?”
“Absolutely.”
“So, I’m guessing you were playing the upright piano in your family room when I arrived.”
He nodded. “It’s an old Faust Harrison I inherited.”
“It looks like the piano our neighbor had in her living room.” She made a clucking sound. “I haven’t thought of Mrs. Foster in years. When I was a kid, I’d sneak over to her house whenever I could. She taught me how to play the piano and how to read music. She also gave me cookies and lots of hugs.”
“So, she gave you your musical start.”
