Page 13 of Coast to Coast

I had to find something to do. Sitting around all night was going to push me over the edge. I only realized I hadn’t had dinner when my stomach growled as a reminder. Knowing that my refrigerator had nothing that would remotely be considered a meal, I resolved to sit alone at the bar a few streets over, eat dinner, and possibly suck down a few beers. Maybe, if I were lucky, I’d be able to catch some live music.

I ran my hands through my hair, changed into a more appropriate T-shirt and my favorite pair of jeans, and headed out. The bar was crowded, but I could still find a seat. Single seats were always easier to come by, which was another reminder of my loner status.

It turned out that tonight was open mic night, and several groups gathered, waiting for their friends to perform. Okay, it looked like I would get my live music, but would it be good?

I ordered a burger and a light beer, reminding myself I needed to tighten my diet once the season started. Crew loved dinosaur nuggets, and it had been easier for him to eat what I had made for him. On the nights I was alone, I often forgot to eat until it was late at night and then not making the best choices. My body wouldn’t be as forgiving when the season started and the physical rigors set in.

I washed down the first bite of my burger with a swig of beer and distracted myself with my phone, ignoring the people around me. I liked Boston but wasn’t sticking around much longer. Maybe the next time I was in town, I would put more effort into meeting people, but this summer had been all about spending time with my son.

The bartender checked on me as the first performer took the stage. I’d finished my first beer, and without any reason not to, I ordered a second. Three songs later, I caught a flash of a mop of dark hair and unruly curls and turned my attention back to my phone, ignoring my urge to investigate those curls. Curls were my kryptonite, always had been.

And then I heard her voice as she played guitar and performed a cover of Taylor Swift’s Clean, and I couldn’t focus on my phone anymore. When I sought her out, I did a quick double-take. Was that Calliope? But she had pin-straight hair, and yes, her Instagram had those videos, but I hadn’t imagined that she performed outside of there. Granted, there hadn’t been a reason for her to mention it, but her voice, fuck, she was incredible. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

As she worked her way through her second cover, performing Zac Brown Band’s Highway 20 Ride, she locked eyes with me. Her voice was like a balm as she sang about the heartache of leaving your kid behind. My heart beat painfully in my chest as I felt the lyrics. The tone of her voice was sweet with a growl. When she finished her set with a cover of Silver Spring, I knew her voice would haunt me, and I’d never wronged her.

I watched silently as she packed up her guitar, leaving it on the side of the stage before making her way to where I sat stunned on my barstool.

“Hey,” she rushed out, still flushed from her performance.

“Curls?” I asked, my hand reaching out of its own volition and twirling it around my fingers. Shit, that was smooth as fuck, Tom.

She smirked, “That’s your takeaway? I guess I need a bit more practice,” joking as her eyes darted to mine nervously. “But yes, since it seems to be such a shock to you, I straightened my hair the other day. This is me, au naturale.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to run into you tonight,” I said. I also wasn’t expecting her songs or voice to pack such a punch. “I don’t have Crew tonight and was just looking to burn a couple of hours before I went to bed. But damn, Calliope, that was…well, completely unexpected. You have a beautiful voice.”

And now it would be even more difficult to get the images of her curls wrapped around my hand or spread across my lap out of my head. This sexy woman had just revealed that she had curls and a voice that was both buttery and sweet with a sexy growl.

“Thanks, but starting Monday, it’s mostly going to be reserved for singing Old MacDonald,” she joked.

Yup, she could make Old MacDonald sound sexy, too. Was I a terrible human for picturing her singing it on my living room floor, curls spread out across her shoulders, and a tight T-shirt spreading across her perfect tits?

“Can I buy you a drink? Or is that too weird?” I asked, wishing the seat next to me opened up so I could have her join me.

“You can, but full disclosure, my sister and brother are waiting over there,” she said, pointing out a man and woman in their mid-twenties. “I’m going to be drinking that drink with them.”

“The drink was a tip. It’s yours to enjoy however you see fit,” I said, meaning it but still slightly disappointed. It was probably better that we didn’t spend extra time together socially.

She nodded, “Ok, tequila soda, please.”

“Lime?”

“Please.”

Her eyes had barely left mine, and I only turned away to order her drink from the bartender. When the bartender returned with it, I handed her the drink, and she sipped it. Herlush lips wrapped around the straw as she sucked. Her cobalt blue eyes looked up at me shyly.

“I’ll see you Monday,” she said, returning to the table with her siblings.

“Monday,” I repeated to no one in particular. The bartender smirked at me, seeing exactly what had caught my attention.

“Nice try,” he said.

“That’s my kid’s nanny,” I said, watching his eyes widen.

“Good luck with that,” he laughed and walked away to take care of other customers.

I stayed a few more minutes before paying my tab and heading home. My thoughts returned to the sound and image of her sitting on that stage with her guitar. How was I expected to forget that image and look at her as a nanny for my son?

I cursed at the unfairness; the perfect woman had practically landed in my lap. And she couldn’t be any more off-limits.

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