Page 53 of Impossible Love

He stares at me, chin lowered, frowning as if he’s not sure he can believe me. And rightly so. “Cal, seriously. I’m good.” To prove it, I gather up my stuff and walk to the guest room. I don’t look back. Closing the door behind me, I take a deep breath.

This is crazy. I can’t deny what I feel for Cal, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he feels the same way. Our combined sexual energy is a blast of searing heat, even when we’re rain-soaked. It shimmers off us like waves of desert roadway under the summer sun. And I know that at some point, we’re going to surrender to it or spontaneously combust.

I go into my bathroom, strip down, and take a hot shower. I towel off and put on a pair of jeans, a long-sleeve T, and warm socks. I carry the damp towel to the entranceway to dry the floor, and as I’m wiping up the water, I start to think…

Giving into our animal desires might seem like the only possible path, but then what? We might put out the fire for a while, but what do we do with the complications surrender creates? We’re working at cross purposes. I need to acquire the land, and he wants to keep it. And we live in two completely different worlds. Building a healthy relationship seems impossible.

I wander around in search of a laundry room, eventually finding it behind the kitchen pantry. I know I should get some work done while I have peace and quiet, but as I walk back toward the guest room, my eye catches Cal’s piano.

I notice it every day but haven’t had an opportunity to appreciate it. It’s a concert grand Steinway, elegant and expensive. Any concert pianist would be thrilled to play it.

I can’t help myself. I need to take this beauty for a spin. But as soon as I sit on the bench, I feel eyes on the back of my head. I spin around, expecting Cal. Instead, I see a blinking Sarah and a yawning Ripley. I must have woken them up.

“Hey, girls. Come see me.” They do as I ask, which strikes me as miraculous after my earlier animal experience. They bury their fuzzy heads in my lap and wait for me to pay the toll of ear rubs; then they wander off to the other side of the house, where Cal’s room is. I return my attention to the piano.

The storm rages outside, and Cal will surely be out there for some time. I brush my fingertips along the keys and play my scales to learn what I’m working with. “Yowzah,” I whisper. The tuning is spot-on, and the action is perfect. I wonder if Cal plays it. He has to—it would be a sin to waste such a magnificent instrument.

I should return to my room, but I can’t leave without at least playing one song. So I start with “Lovesong.” I’ve always swooned for the lyrics and music, especially Adele’s version, though the O.G. ’80’s recording is wonderful in its own way. Adele’s take on it, though… it sends shivers up my spine. As a rule, I do my singing in the shower, away from prying ears. But I can’t let the moment slip away. I don’t know when I’ll have the chance to play this Steinway again.

The opening chords flow like honey, not a hint of flutter or echo. The acoustics in this corner of the great room are glorious, and I wonder if Cal is aware of this or if it was a happy accident. I let the thought go and allow myself to be carried away by the minor chords.

The music allows me to drift off. They say the secret to happiness is being in a flow state, and for me, there’s no more reliable way to find that than singing while playing the piano. I get lost and become unaware of my surroundings.

That’s why I jump when the last chord is greeted by applause. I don’t know how long he’s been here, but he’s standing on the other side of the living room in a pair of sweats and a Navy T-shirt, roughing up his wet hair with a towel.

I stand in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you come in. I couldn’t resist the piano.”

He walks toward me. “Are you kidding? That was… you play beautifully, and your voice is incredible, Victoria. No one’s played that piano in a very long time.”

“Really? It’s perfectly tuned.”

He nods. “I know. I have a tuner come out on the regular, though nobody plays it. This may be a stupid question, but do you know any other songs? I’d love to hear more.”

I laugh to myself. I may have been an abject failure as an equestrian, but my years of piano study evens out the scales. “Any requests?”

He gestures for me to sit again and slides in next to me. “Just play something you like.”

So I do. Since he enjoyed the last tune, I decide on something sweet and old-school, one of my all-time favorites. I begin to play Carole King’s “You Got A Friend.” And even though Cal sits next to me, which makes me nervous, I soon return to the flow state. The piano music and my singing allow me to take myself out of the equation and disappear into the music.

But there’s no applause this time when the song ends. I assume Cal isn’t a fan. But when I turn to see tears welling in his eyes, I’m stunned.

“That was my mother’s favorite song.”

“It’s one of mine, too.”

We sit together in silence, the rain pounding on the roof and thunder rolling. Cal’s breath is shallow. His eyes are filled with desire and locked with mine. I feel an impossible need for him to possess me. Heat pools between my legs, and I’m desperate for him to make a move.

He doesn’t disappoint.

He cradles my face in his hands and brings my mouth to hover near mine. I feel his heat and revel in his layered, concentrated scent. With a soft, tender touch, his lips meet mine. Cal’s body hums with the effort it takes to restrain himself. But he keeps the kiss gentle.

Even though I don’t want gentle. Not anymore.

Chapter 28

Cal

I carefully lift my lips from hers and put some distance between us. The moment has me frozen, and I’m not certain I can name everything I’m feeling because it’s all jumbled together in my mind. My heart.

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