Page 13 of Demon Loved
Perhaps some mortals would have said, “Must be nice,” or something along those lines. However, Brianna only looked thoughtful.
“It’s a great thing to be in control of your destiny like that,” she said as she skillfully removed one of the shrimps from its skewer and speared it with her fork. “I like that you’re using your time to learn new things. It’s what keeps your mind active.”
“Are you always learning new things?” he asked, genuinely curious.
Her expression sobered a bit. “Not as much as I would like, I suppose. But I’m teaching them, so that’s something.”
This response startled him. “You teach?”
Somehow, he couldn’t imagine her in front of a classroom full of students, but possibly that was only because he had very little experience of such things.
Now she smiled again. “Music,” she replied, then added, “Guitar and piano and voice. Just at my students’ houses, and I don’t have a lot of kids to teach. But it’s a nice break from all the tasting room gigs.”
Belshegar could see that. To share her love of music with a new generation — to guide them to appreciate it on their own?
That was no small thing.
“Have you always played?” he inquired next, and she nodded.
“As long as I can remember. My parents had a piano that belonged to my great-grandparents on my mom’s side, so I played around with that. And then someone gave Shane a toy guitar for his birthday when he was eight or nine. He messed with it for a couple of days but wasn’t all that interested, and I kind of took it over. I suppose you can say the rest is history.”
Once again, Belshegar wished he could ask her if music was her magical gift, or whether she wasn’t materially different from all the generations of mortals who had a natural aptitude for singing or composing or playing an instrument.
Unfortunately, he doubted they would ever get to a place where she would be willing to place such confidences in him.
“It’s good when your talent is so strong that you can’t think of anything else you would rather do in life,” he ventured.
Her expression grew almost wistful. “I suppose it is,” she replied. “And luckily, I never had parents who told me that pursuing music was silly and that I should get a business degree or become a doctor or a lawyer or something.”
No, it seemed her parents had allowed her to find her own way. Was it like that in most witch families? He couldn’t say for sure, not when his only real example had been Elena’s father and grandmother…and they’d been anything but supportive.
However, he’d been able to tell at her wedding reception that most of the guests there seemed to be very happy with their lives. Certainly, it didn’t seem as though they’d been forced into careers that were at odds with their talents and skills.
“So….” Bree went on, and again she seemed almost diffident, as if she wasn’t sure how she should broach the topic even if it was something she wanted to discuss. “How long are you in town?”
Could it be that she wanted to see more of him?
That must be the case, or he doubted she would have even asked the question.
Hope fluttered with butterfly wings within his chest, but he tried to sound as casual as possible as he said, “My trip here is open-ended.”
Of course it was. How could he know when he would be going back to his plane when he had no idea how long it would take for him to retrieve the artifacts the voice had requested?
Thank all the various forces in the universe that he’d already provided Brianna McAllister with a perfectly plausible reason as to why he could stay in Jerome for as long as he liked.
Her mouth pursed, partway to a smile. “Well,” she said, also in tones that he knew were deliberately nonchalant, “there’s a folk festival coming up this weekend, and I’m playing Saturday afternoon. Maybe you’d like to stick around for that?”
Belshegar could think of nothing he’d like better. Of course he had no real interest in folk music, but he would take every possible opportunity to spend time in her company.
“That sounds like it would be fun,” he replied.
She seemed to relax against the back of her chair, although he could tell she was doing what she could to hide her relief by spearing another shrimp and popping it in her mouth. Once she was done chewing, she said, “There’s lots of other stuff besides music, too. There’ll be food trucks and a craft fair. We started having the festival about ten years ago, and it keeps getting bigger every year.”
“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I already have a hotel room,” he told her.
Now her eyes met his, and he could see the anticipation shining in them.
“Yes,” she said. “I suppose it is.”
