Page 33 of Animal Instincts
Oliver’s irritation turned to doubt and — Joss’ breath stilled in his chest — disappointment?
“No—” Another gust of wind and a torrent of rain hit the window, harder and heavier than the ones that had gone before, as though warning him to stay in the warm and dry. To stay with Oliver.
“And besides, there’s no way you can drag on your wet clothes again. What would I do if you caught pneumonia?”
“I don’t know. Get in a temp, maybe?”
Oliver blinked, before he laughed, throwing his head back the way he’d done earlier, the sound rich and warm, like spiced hot chocolate on a winter’s day.
“That’s settled, then, so you may as well sit down.”
Oliver poured more coffee, and between them they finished off the cake.
“I spotted all the guitar books on the shelf, and the music scores.”
“But did you spot the guitars?” Oliver nodded to a shadowy corner of the room.
“Threeof them?” Joss’ eyes widened. How had he missedthree guitars, each propped up on a stand? “Now, that’s just showing off.”Shit hotflashed again in his head, and Joss wasn’t just thinking of Oliver’s musical abilities.
Oliver chuckled. “Perhaps. I’ve played for as long as I can remember, but not so much in recent times. I suppose I’ve kind of lost the enthusiasm.” His lips turned down as he gazed at them. A mix of regret and resignation in his eyes, but something else, too, something Joss couldn’t—
Sadness.
The word was a hard thump landing in the centre of Joss’ chest.
Play a song for me…He wasn’t brave enough to ask.
“Why not take it up again? Charles said you played, when we were talking about the open mic night.” It was kind of the truth, or the truth once removed. Or sort of.
“Open mic night?” Oliver snorted. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I…” Oliver’s brow wrinkled.“I’m out of practise. I’d be embarrassed to be heard in public now.”
“Now. Sort of implies you used to play before an audience.”
Oliver stared at him, and Joss had the prickling sensation he’d gone too far, pushed in where he had no place, where he was not wanted.
“Sorry. For being nosey.”
Perhaps it was time to go, after all.
Oliver shook his head. “No, not nosey. They’re valid questions. I used to play odd weekends, in a few clubs back in London.”
Clubs? What kind of music? Was Oliver part of a band? The unasked questions begged for answers but they didn’t come.
“I suppose I should pick them up again. Or sell them. At the moment they’re doing nothing other than collecting dust.”
“You could shake off the dust at the open mic night.”
Oliver huffed out a short laugh. “I really don’t think so.” His lips twisted in a wry smile. “I miss live music, though. I haven’t been to anything since leaving London.”
“I thought I might go—”
“As a performer?”
“God, no.” A burst of laughter exploded from Joss. “I’ve got no musical talent at all. Ryan, at the pub, said there’s a lot of interest. Are you sure you couldn’t be—?”
