Page 63 of All I Need (Hearts of the South)
“And what do you do, son?” Her father gestured at Clark with his glass. “Are you in law enforcement as well?”
A wide grin creased Clark’s face. “I’m the best paramedic in Chandler County, sir.”
Emmett made a disgusted sound in this throat. “Most arrogant paramedic is more like it.”
“I saved your sorry life, remember?”
Hands tucked in his pockets, Emmett rocked back on his heels. “The way I recall things, you were yelling at Mackey not to let me die because then you wouldn’t have anyone to sing with.”
“Dude, you were basically bleeding out and in V-fib. You can’t remember that.”
“Trust me, I do.”
The lightness grated on her nerves. She wanted to pull Emmett away somewhere private, get at what seemed to be off with him, and the three men wanted to indulge in chitchat.
With an amused chuckle, her father lifted an eyebrow. “Musicians as well, then. Savannah, perhaps we should show them your piano. They might actually appreciate it.”
Clark’s eyes took on a gleam. “You play the piano?”
“No. I knowhowto play, but I don’t play.” She patted her father’s arm. “Someone forced me to take thirteen years of lessons.”
“I can relate.”
“She sings as well.” The same old pride swelled her father’s voice.
“You sing?” Clark quirked a brow.
“No.”
“How do you live without music?” Clark rubbed his palms together. “Show me this piano.”
Her father led the way to the living room, and as Emmett fell into silent step next to Clark and waved her ahead of them, she had little choice but to comply. Maybe he was nervous here, but this was ridiculous. Her unease flared into irritation and the beginnings of a stormy mood.
Inside, Clark stared at the gleaming instrument. He shifted his gaze to her, mouth open.
“Woman, what is wrong with you? You have an antique Mason & Hamlin, and you don’t play it? That’s like having a Maserati in the garage and refusing to drive it because someone made you take driver’s ed.” He turned to her father. “Can I play it?”
“Go ahead. I keep it in tune, just in case.” He settled into his favorite chair. “It’s been too long since there was music in this house.”
Clark took the bench and rippled his fingers across the keys with a reverent touch. The rich notes filled the room. “My God, it’s like a musical orgasm.”
He coaxed Canon in D from the instrument, and the gorgeous sounds attracted people to the room. Amy sat in the other plush chair, and Rob propped on the arm, Hamilton nestled in his strong hold. Her mother, grandmother, and cousins took the couch. Savannah remained standing in front of Emmett, Troy Lee stopping at his side.
Clark drew the piece to a close. He nodded at Emmett. “Hey, Em, come sing with me.”
She sensed his slight hesitation, but Troy Lee’s hand at his shoulder prodded him forward. He assumed a falsely relaxed posture, hands in his pockets as he approached the piano to sit next to his friend.
Clark chuckled. “If you’ll play, he’ll sing.”
She wouldn’t even begin to know what to play. Clark rolled out the first notes of the gorgeous ballad from the night before, but Emmett shook his head. “No, not that one. Pick something else.”
The melody Clark chose was edgier, with a more aggressive pulse to it, and eyes closed, Emmett sang of darkness and isolation, of hiding and hurting. The lyrics pulled a raw power from his voice, and her throat ached, the room narrowing to only the two of them and the music.
Rather than ending the piece, Clark segued into a subdued, slow praise song, and Emmett followed without missing a beat. The change in tune and topic lightened the tension on his face, relaxing his expression, although his eyes remained closed.
As the notes faded away, Clark caressed the piano top. “I want to take it home with me.”
Opening his eyes on a chuckle, Emmett slanted a grin at him. “You aren’t right.”
