Page 34 of Offside and Off-Limits
“I had lessons from the age of eight. I got pretty good, but I guess you’ll see that when you come over to record me on my piano.”
He’s wearing that smirk that does things to me, so I pull my gaze from his and focus instead on the Zamboni as it begins its ice polishing job behind him.
“I’m sure we can find another piano somewhere for you to play.” Somewhere in public with a lot of people around as a nice, thick buffer between Cade and the way he makes me feel.
“Sure,” he replies, and I relax a notch. But then he leans a little closer to me and I catch his scent, an unmistakable tang of sweat, softened by the clean trace of whatever soap or deodorant he wore before practice. “But you see, I’ve got this problem,” he says in a low, husky tone that makes the hairs on my neck prickle.
I swallow, my pulse rising. “What problem?”
“I don’t like to play on any piano other than mine,” he says.
I arch a sardonic eyebrow. “You don’t like to play on any piano other than yours?”
“Yeah. My piano and I have a thing. We’re exclusive. She gets jealous if I touch another piano.”
Oh, the innuendo.
He straightens back up. “So, my place at say five? I’ll introduce you to Bess.”
“Bess?” I ask, a surprising snake of jealousy twisting my gut.
Jealousy?Geez.
“Bess is my piano.”
“You named your piano?” I raise my hand. “Actually, don’t answer that, and sorry but I have a thing then.”
It’s not a lie. I’ve been attending the Chronic Warriors Support Group at the Maple Falls Medical Center every week since I was strong enough to do so, and I’m certainly not going to give that up for Cade Lennox and his piano called Bess.
“How long is your thing?”
“An hour.”
“Come after. I’ll introduce you to Bess and I’ll even fix you a meal.”
“But—”
He breaks into a smile. “You know where I live. See you then, Triple.”
As he turns and leaves, I realize I’ve just agreed to do exactly what I’d set out to avoid. And worse yet, it will be over dinner, making it an almost-date, which is the last thing I need with Cade Lennox, Mr. Flirty-Pants himself, with that smile of his that somehow manages to slip past the walls I’ve built, and makes my heart forget it’s supposed to be impervious.
CHAPTER 8
CLARA
I arriveat the Maple Falls Medical Center a couple minutes after six. Just as I’m about to push through the door, my phone beeps and I see a message from my ex. It used to spike my anxiety whenever his name would pop up, but these days it’s just part of being a divorced couple with shared custody of a couple of children.
Dwayne:
I’ll pick the kids up Friday at 6.
No “does that suit you?” or anything. But then he wouldn’t be Dwayne Campbell if he did. It’s hisweekend, which he gets every two weeks, and he travels up from Oregon each time, sometimes taking them for longer during the summer.
Me:
Sure. See you then.
I make a mental note to invite Bailey over that night before I slot my phone into my purse. I push through the glass door into the Medical Center to see the group members already sitting in a circle. Bernice Chen, a local doctor with multiple sclerosis who leads the group, is welcoming everyone to the session as is her weekly habit.
