“You know.” She lowered her voice in an imitation of him. “No sauce on anything. Foods shouldn’t touch. Keep your flavor to yourself.”
“I don’t have a food deal,” he said, fighting off a smile.
“I’ve always wondered what made you hate good food. Was it that time Liv tried to make pad Thai and we all got food poisoning?”
Noah groaned. “That certainly didn’t help. I don’t know. It’s just the way I eat.”
“You can’t seriously like a plain burger with nothing on it. There’s no way that’s enjoyable.”
“I don’t eat for enjoyment. I eat so I won’t be hungry.”
“That is blasphemy. Good food is one of life’s greatest pleasures. It’s right up there with music and sex.”
Her smile hit him square in the chest. Just like it had that night six years ago.Shit.He needed a distraction, something that wouldn’t give his brain space to think about how full her lips were or the adorable dimple in her chin or the fact that now he was wondering what Callie considered good sex—No.No good could come from any of it.
He cleared his throat and forced the conversation to a safer topic. “Livi said you’ve been running more programs at the library lately.”
“Yeah. The new director has really let us try all kinds of new things, and the patrons are loving it.”
“Like what?”
She twisted up her lips as she thought, a spark flashing in her eyes. “Like last month I ran a workshop on how to build the perfect playlist to listen to while reading a book in any genre. And a few weeks ago, I started a young adult romance novel book club for teenagers where they’re going to eventually write their own book. Oh! And I even get to throw a costume party next month to celebrate Fall Into Reading. I’m hoping to make it an annual thing.”
Her whole face lit up as she talked, her hands gesturing wildly as she ran him through her plan to teach the kids in her book club how to analyze the story structure so they could write their own novella. “The director even said she’ll put a copy of their book into circulation.”
“That’s amazing,” he said.
She shrugged off the compliment. “Libraries aren’t just book repositories, you know? They’re part community center, part learning annex. If I can help people feel more connected to their community and get them to read a few more books in the process, that’s a win.”
He was stunned, blindsided by how damn passionate she was about this. It reminded him of all the times they’d talked about music, the late-night phone calls when she was too excited about some snippet of a melody to wait until morning to play it for him. It had been years since he’d heard her talk about music that way, though.
Callie shook her head as if coming out of a trance and leaned back in the booth, taking a long sip of her milkshake. “My mom keeps badgering me to take a job at one of the local colleges. They pay better but I wouldn’t be teaching teenagers about the joy of romance novels or helping octogenarians learn how to video chat with their grandchildren.”
“You love it.”
“I do.” She focused her attention on her lunch, cutting her omelet into smaller and smaller bites. “I’ve just talked your ear off,” she said with a self-deprecating smile. “Tell me about your work.”
“There’s not much to tell,” he said, taking a bite of his burger and frowning at the lackluster taste.
“Oh, come on. What are you working on?” She swiped a French fry through her Thousand Island dressing. Her eyes practically rolled back in her head when she took a bite, her face frozen in a moment of pure pleasure.Nope. Not thinking about what else puts that look on her face.
“I’ve got an article in the works for theAmerican Journal of Score Analysisexamining the way Korngold reuses themes from his film scores in his classical compositions.”
“Okay…that sounds very…impressive.”
“What about you? Have you written any songs lately?”
“Don’t try to change the subject. We’re talking about you, not me. Tell me about what you’re composing.”
Noah took another bite of his burger. He hated this question, which was damn inconvenient considering he was a professional composer. Teaching was always meant to be secondary, a way to support himself while he waited for his big break. He enjoyed teaching and he loved working with his students, helping them discover their own musical voices, but lately he spent more time on the trappings of academia than he spent behind a piano. When Wolf MacMillan had first called him about submitting to be the composer for his new documentary, it had seemed like the job he’d been waiting for—something he could really sink his teeth into. But judging by the things Uncle Stu had said the day before, it was unlikely to ever be more than a dream.
“Mostly exercises for my sight-reading classes,” he said.
Callie’s brows drew down, her nose wrinkling. “I thought you were working on a documentary.”
“I’m in talks with the producer, but he has…reservations.”
“About your music? That’s insane.”
