“Swimmingly,” Micha said, grinning at me. “We’ll just…uh…get these decorated and bring them up front.”
“Sounds lovely,” Maple agreed, turning on her heel and heading out again.
“Oh my God,” I laughed as I looked around once more.
“We’ll get it cleaned up,” Micha promised. His heated gaze bored into me, sending waves of pleasure to my center. “Have dinner with me again tonight?”
“I thought we already had a date?”
“We do,” he agreed. “But I’ll cook you dinner, play you some songs, and we can talk.”
“I’d like that,” I said, smiling shyly at him. “But we’d better get a move on with these.” I gestured to the chocolates. “I don’t even know how to decorate them.”
“It’s pretty much how we decorated ourselves,” he answered with a laugh. “Just take the white chocolate in that pot and drizzle them. Easy peasy.”
Easy peasy? Like falling for him? Because…that kiss! I was in trouble.
Oh God, what had I gotten myself into with him? I was supposed to be going home in a few weeks. Dating a handsome, famous, sweet, and funny composer was not in my plan.
But as we decorated and cleaned together, each of us using any excuse to touch as we brushed past one another, I realized leaving Majestic Falls would be a lot harder than I’d originally imagined it would be.
Six
Micha
Though we’d planned on dinner the day of the reopening, it hadn’t happened. In fact, it had been four nights since then.
The shop had been packed the first day, and the host of people to meet, all expressing condolences, had taken a huge toll on Jessica. She’d been dead on her feet, so we’d postponed our evening. We hadn’t been able to see each other the next couple of nights, either, since I’d had to make a quick trip to California to meet with the movie studio.
I’d seen Jessica on the morning before I’d left. And this morning after I’d gotten back. Now that we’d kissed, I needed my morning fix, and I’d missed it when I’d been on the west coast. I’d itched to get back to her. Somehow, without either of us trying, she’d gotten under my skin. And I hoped I was under hers. There was something special about Jessica. Something that resonated in my center, like a perfect melody.
Now, days after we’d initially made the plans, Jessica and I would finally have dinner.
Once this piano lesson was done.
“You’re doing fine. Just keep going,” I encouraged, when my student, Marcy Baker, hit a wrong note. She really was doing well, and I hoped her mom, who was sitting over on the couchwhile I taught, wouldn’t be too hard on her. She tended to be one of those parents who expected perfection—something you weren’t going to get without a lot of practice and a lot of mistakes along the way.
I glanced quickly at my watch. Five more minutes until the lesson was over and until Jessica arrived.
As if I’d conjured her, her car pulled into my driveway.
I could easily see her through the large windows lining my living room wall on that side. As she got out of the car, our gazes connected, and I waved her inside, hoping she’d understand she didn’t need to knock and could just enter the house.
Another thing Mrs. Baker was a stickler about…time. She’d insist I make up the two seconds it would have taken for me to answer the door. The woman was an honest-to-God headache. I sometimes questioned why I still taught when some of the parents were such a pain in the ass. The kids. That was the reason. I was committed to bringing up the next generation of musicians. Too many schools had discontinued their arts and music programs. It left many gifted students without an avenue to pursue their talents.
I gave Jessica a chin lift and grinned when she came inside. She leaned against the living room door jamb and watched the lesson. Her arms were wrapped around a container she’d brought with her. A small smile curled her lips, and my heart raced, wanting to hold her in my arms again. I forced my attention back to my student as she finished the piece she’d been working on.
“Good job, Marcy. You’re really improving. Mozart would be proud. For next week, keep working on this piece up to where we’re at and add in the next page, okay?”
“Okay, Mr. Parsons! Thanks!” The girl hopped off the piano bench and practically skipped over to her mom. Mrs. Baker smiled down at her, which was a relief to me. I’d seen her barely veiled disapproval way too many times after a lesson. I’d hate it if the poor kid’s enthusiasm and talent were squashed by parental pressure.
As soon as the pair headed out the door, I gave my full attention to Jessica. Taking the container from her hands, I set it on the baby grand’s closed lid then pulled her into my arms.
“Hi.”
She leaned into me, her palms on my chest. “Hi.”
“I’m glad you found the place okay. Does that box need to go into the fridge?”
