Shoving those thoughts aside, she opened the cabinet and debated for a second about serving him in an actual coffee cup with a saucer or one of the mugs that she used every day. Looking back and finding him giving her an easy smile in his black T-shirt — which she now realized featured a carton of milk pouring itself into the Milky Way — and army surplus jacket, Rainey decided on two mugs. Jacques Gilchrist was not the kind of guy to be impressed withsaucers.
He liked candor. She could alreadytell.
She poured their coffee, handed over his, and stood across from him, leaning against the kitchencounter.
With his eyes on her, he brought the mug to his lips andsipped.
“That’s good,” hemurmured.
“Thanks.”
She sipped hers while her cheeks colored again, and she wondered what they could talk about after his declarations and her contrasting silence. And then there was the rest of her life to consider. How quickly would he figure out that she almost never left the house? How long until he sensed that she was not okay? Weak… damaged…strange.
“So…” Jacques set down his mug. “You like music, but you don’t like musicians. Is that right?” He raised a brow in a way that teased her, and the tension that had been building in her chestmelted.
She laughed at herself. “I guess that doesn’t make sense, doesit?”
“I didn’t say that,” he offered, but even though he smiled, Rainey could tell he was waiting formore.
“Musicians are fine in the abstract,” she tried to explain. “I mean, I love musicians. I would totally fangirl over The 1975 or The Neighborhood or TheLumineers…”
She took another sip of her coffee and watched to see if this satisfied him. By the look in his brown eyes, itdidn’t.
“It’s just that I’ve lived up close to that world, and it isn’t a pretty one. The famous musicians I’ve known in person — not just my dad — the headliners, the big names…” She shrugged, struggling to sound diplomatic, not like some complaining brat. “…so many of them are too caught up in themselves to be very good for otherpeople.”
Rainey knew this wasn’t a universal truth, but it was the experience that had shaped her. And she didn’t fool herself. Dylan Reeves’ absence from her life — as much as his presence in it — had done much of thatshaping.
“You don’t like talking about this,” Jacques said evenly. It wasn’t a question; he soundedsure.
She laughed again nervously. “You’reright.”
“We don’t have to talk about it.” The left side of his mouth came up, his lopsided smile showing up again. But something in that smile lookedguarded.
Rainey stood up straight, realization striking without mercy. “Oh myGod.”
“What?” He frowned ather.
“You’reamusician.”
His eyes went wide, and then his lopsided smile wobbled into laughter. “Iam.”
“Oh God.” She joined him, laughing, but she did so covering her face. “I’m such amoron.”
She could still hear him laughing when she felt hands close around her wrists. “No, you’re not,” he said, gently pulling her handsaway.
At his touch, the skin of her wrists hummed with feeling. It was as though a bow, silken and white, dragged over a steel-cored cello string. The sensation echoed down her arms and into herchest.
“…I should have said something sooner,” he was saying, his hands still on her, her skin still awash in feeling. Thank goodness he kept talking because she certainly could not. “I was just testing the waters… making sure it wassafe.”
Rainey gulped a breath. Safe?Hewas perfectly safe. She was the one in peril because now that he was touching her she didn’t want him to letgo.
“I-I should have known,” she managed, shaking her head. “I mean, that voice ofyours…”
He brought her wrists down to the countertop, but he didn’t release her. “I grew up with music — maybe not the same way you did — but it was a constant,” hesaid.
And because he hadn’t let go and his hands now lay on the insides of her wrists, she let her fingers spread under his, feeling the warmth of his skin, the hint of tendons and veins underneath that made up the landscape of his arm. She watched his eyes dart to their hands and come back to hers without missing abeat.
“My grandfather taught me how to play the guitar, the accordion, and the Cajun fiddle, and my dad taught me how to play thebanjo.”
