“Where did you hear that?”
He laughed a little. “I ran into Bear Country Gifts the other day when I was in Thunder Mountain. I wanted to pick up a little something to send to my sister for her birthday. The owner—Dorothy Vaughn—started up a conversation about you. She says she watches the little one on occasion.”
Reva groaned inside. “Yeah? What else did she tell you?” Dorothy seemed to have taken far too much interest in her budding love life.
“Nothing, except to tell me how loved you are and that no one in Thunder Mountain wants you to be hurt. Seems your constituents are a protective bunch.”
“That they are,” Reva admitted. “So, be warned. They are all watching. My most avid guardians are my girlfriends.”
This brought a slight smile to his face. “Noted.”
She turned to check on Lucan. “Oh, my goodness! Is that a cello?” She pointed to the instrument in the corner of the living room.
Kellen nodded. “Yup.”
“You play the cello?”
“You sound surprised,” he said, turning for the stove. He lifted the lid on the simmering pot and stirred the stroganoff.
Her surprise was evident, a stark contrast to the initial impression she had formed of Kellen, a mechanic with grease-stained hands and a straightforward demeanor. In her mind, the worlds of auto repair and classical music seldom intertwined. Yet here was Kellen, embodying a bridge between these disparate realms with a casual ease that intrigued her.
“I guess I am,” Reva admitted, her gaze shifting from the cello back to Kellen. “It’s just that…you don’t meet many mechanics who play the cello.”
Kellen chuckled, a sound that seemed to carry a hint of pride. “Well, my mom was a music teacher. She believed that music was essential for expressing emotions and understanding the world. So, she made sure I learned.”
The cello poised next to a table stacked with Popular Mechanics magazines cast a new light on this man—a revelation that made Reva recognize there were often very unexpected facets of people.
As Kellen returned to his culinary task, Reva found herself drawn to the idea that Kellen was multifaceted—and was capable of nurturing both the practical and the artistic aspects of life.
After they’d finished the main course and enjoyed a dish of ice cream smothered in fresh strawberry puree, Reva urged him to play for her. “I’d love to listen.”
Kellen wiped his hands on the dish towel. With a modest smile, he said, “Sure, what do you want to hear?”
She carried Lucan into the living room and sat on the sofa, kissing the top of the sleepy little boy’s head as he nodded off. “You choose.”
Moving gracefully to the instrument, he lifted it with a familiarity and affection that only years of practice could bring. The room filled with an anticipatory silence as he positioned the cello between his knees, the bow poised above its strings.
Choosing a piece that seemed to hold a special place in his heart, Kellen began to play “The Swan” from Saint-Saëns’Carnival of the Animals. The notes flowed with a gentle, melancholic beauty, filling the space with an ethereal quality that seemed to suspend time. The melody, both elegant and deeply emotional, spoke of longing and serenity, of delicate strength.
Reva watched, utterly captivated. The music enveloped her, weaving a spell of tranquility and wonder. It was as if the cello’s voice, under Kellen’s expert guidance, was narrating a story too profound for words. She found herself moved by the performance, her earlier intrigue blossoming into a deep appreciation for the man before her. His ability to express such vulnerability and grace through music revealed layers of sensitivity she hadn’t anticipated.
How could one man masterfully navigate both the gritty world of socket wrenches and the emotional depths of a musical composition, playing with such beauty and heartfelt expression?
As the lastnote lingered in the air, a heavy, satisfying silence fell. Reva, her eyes shining with emotion, broke the quiet. “That was beautiful, Kellen,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “I’ve never heard anything quite like it.”
Kellen’s eyes found their way to hers. The room seemed to hold its breath as he laid the bow aside and moved to her. He gently lifted the sleeping toddler from her arms and nestled him onto the sofa cushions, then pulled a blanket over him. Then he held out his hand to Reva.
She stood, and he pulled her into an embrace, his face nestled against her hair.
Reva pulled back and looked up at him, her heart thrumming in her chest. Kellen paused, just a breath away, his gaze searching hers for permission, for a sign. In the quiet, Reva’s soft, affirmative whisper barely broke the silence. “Kellen.”
As she said his name, he gently reached out, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch sparking a trail of warmth down her spine. Reva’s eyes fluttered closed, anticipation tingling at the very tips of her fingers, her breath hitching as she sensed him drawing nearer.
Kellen’s lips met hers, a soft, hesitant contact that spoke volumes, a question and an answer all at once. The world seemed to stand still. The only reality was the sensation of his lips against hers, tender yet full of emotion. Reva responded in kind, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. It was a kiss that unfolded slowly, exploring, and affirming, a gentle claiming of mutual desire and recognition of the connection that had sparked between them.
As they finally parted, breathless and with hearts racing, their eyes met again, holding onto the moment, the unsaid words hanging between them like stars in the night sky. For those few, precious seconds, everything else faded into the background, leaving only the profound realization of a bond that had been irrevocably formed.
Just then, Reva’s phone shattered the silence, its ringtone slicing through the air. She blinked, pulled abruptly from the spell, and fumbled for her phone. Glancing at the caller ID, she saw it was Lila. With a reluctant sigh, she answered, her heart still racing from the moment before.
