Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
KEELEY
Astranger pulls me up to dance, and Sal laughs as I’m dragged into the mass of bodies pressed up against the stage, swaying their hips to the beat. I’ve been up and down all night, between dancing and sitting with Sal, all while he watches me, amused by my antics.
Time Persuasion starts playing one of their most famous songs, and I want to squeal when Sal starts to mouth along, having mentioned that he listened to a few of their hits during his “research” today.
I’d ask him to dance if he hadn’t hit me with a firm “no” the first time I broached the subject, citing that he was too old for mosh pits, once again highlighting our difference in age. Not that this is anything close to a mosh pit.
The song ends, and I sashay my sweaty ass back to my seat, collapsing in a heap beside him.
Sal hands me another drink, this time a fruity cocktail, and I thank him with a grin.
I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun on a date.
And it’s not even a date. We’re four songs into Sal’s “challenge” and he was right.
Not only have I known all of the songs he asked Time Persuasion to play, but they’re amazing recreations of the original versions.
All with their own emotive qualities, each one making me feel something new.
Time Persuasion have been incredible. They’ve been mixing Sal’s song choices in with their own, and I have loved every second of our night.
“What’s the name of the last song?” I ask over the music, fanning my face with my hand.
“You’ll have to wait and see.” Sal raises an eyebrow, and that, paired with his relaxed demeanor, makes him at least twenty percent sexier.
And he was pretty damn sexy to begin with.
Especially tonight. While he’s still wearing a dress shirt—I doubt he owns anything else—he’s paired it with jeans and sneakers, and even left the top buttons of the shirt undone.
Very un-Sal like. I love it. “The next one was a last-minute change in the roster,” he continues, oblivious to my inner thoughts.
“I noticed the singer had another talent.”
My eyes flash to the band, but I didn’t have to see it to guess. “Saxophone?” I ask. “Ralph’s got a gift. He also produces a lot of their music.”
“Ralph? You know these guys by name?”
“I do.”
Sal stiffens slightly and if that’s jealousy, I want more of it. It’s been a long time since someone was jealous over me.
“I’ve been a fan for a while. They’re still indie, but I have a feeling that’s about to change after their tour.”
“I can see that. They’re a talented group. And credit to Ralph since he plays my favorite instrument.” The way he says “Ralph” has me biting back a smile as a giddiness runs through me. He’s totally jealous. He may be “too old” for me, but that doesn’t mean he’s a man without needs.
“What you’re saying is that you saved the best for last?” I ask, keeping the conversation flowing while I swoon, my body swaying to the music, or perhaps because of the alcohol coursing through me.
“If you want a song that makes you feel, throw in a sax. This song is no exception. It’s not necessarily the lyrics that evoke emotion—although, they always get me thinking about my life—it’s the saxophone riff. The power of the notes. You’re going to love it.”
The way Sal speaks about music evokes a feeling of its own. His passion is infectious. If I wasn’t already always drawn into every word he says, I’d be listening intently now.
He speaks about music like it’s color. Or something tangible that you could reach out and grasp. When he tells you music is for the soul, in that deep raspy voice of his, he makes you want to sing to the heavens. And I mean that exactly as it came out, dirty connotation and all.
“I can’t wait,” I say excitedly, and while I’m referring to the song, a little part of me pictures something else too.
“Any guesses?” Sal asks, his mind still on our seemingly innocent conversation.
“Not yet. But the suspense is killing me.” That and the tension.
God, I’ve had too much to drink.
Sal nods before his gaze flits back to the band, and there’s something almost childlike in his expression. This is the Sal no one gets to see. The man I’ll bet his ex-wife first fell in love with. If only she could see him now.
My stomach twists at the thought of his ex. My best friend’s mom. Until I realize what’s happening and cut those thoughts off faster than they came. I’m just as jealous as he is. Over nothing.
God, this is messed up.
I focus on the music for the next fifteen or so minutes, and when a certain seventies song comes on, I know instantly that this is for Sal.
I glance his way as I smile, and when the saxophone comes in, I melt into my chair.
Once again, he’s right. I love this song.
“Oh, ‘Baker Street,’” I announce proudly over the instrumental opening, drawing Sal’s attention, watching his mouth as his lips curl.
“That’s right. Do you know who originally sang it?”
“Definitely not.”
Sal laughs before confirming it’s Gerry Rafferty, his smile telling me this song is a favorite of his.
“Fine, you win. For now.”
“For now?” He shakes his head.
“I was thinking that maybe next time I can find the band, and challenge you with some songs.” Sal’s brows furrow and I laugh out loud. “Trust me. You’ll know them all and you might even love them.” I paraphrase his words to me, and his chuckle morphs into a full-on laugh.
“Maybe.” He bites his lip as he winks, and fuck me, that just about does me in.
“In all seriousness,” I rush out, attempting to stop my thoughts from running rampant. “Thanks for finding this place. And for setting it all up. I’ve had fun.”
“Me too, Keels. I think we nailed this whole ‘getting a life’ business.”
“Absolutely.” I laugh again, squeezing his hand just as Ralph sings the opening line.
It’s late by the time we leave the bar, and I’m thankful for Sal’s driver when he pulls up in front of the exit, saving me from having to walk when I’m feeling a little lightheaded.
Who am I kidding? I’m drunk. And if I’m not mistaken, Sal’s a little tipsy himself. Which I didn’t think was possible. He seems like a seasoned drinker. A man that knows his limits and never dares to cross them.
After “Baker Street,” I stayed off the dance floor, spending the rest of the night discussing music with Sal, getting to know him outside of work. And just when I thought he couldn’t be any more decent of a human, I was wrong.
Not only does that man have the D’Angelo Foundation that he set up with Paige, and his business in New York, but it turns out, he’s been quietly donating millions to various charities around the country, some that include funding instruments for disadvantaged children who want to learn, and another more recent charity to support grassroots football teams.
This man follows his passions.
And it kind of makes me want to be something he’s passionate about.
As always, Sal opens my door and waits for me to slide in before walking around to the other side, waving off his driver when he gets out to help.
“We’re dropping off Keeley first, Jeffrey,” he tells his driver, gripping the back of the front passenger seat as he leans forward, offering me a healthy dose of forearm porn now that he’s rolled up his sleeves.
“She’ll give you the address,” he adds, turning to me when I’m not ready, catching me staring.
Whoops.
I smile, unaffected, and after relaying my address, I lie back against the headrest, closing my eyes.
My mind swirls with images of the night, and it feels like barely a minute has passed when Sal’s palm curls around my thigh, the tip of his pinky brushing my skin where my dress has risen.
“We’re here,” he whispers, his gravelly voice sending a shiver right through me, ending between my legs.
“You shouldn’t be allowed to whisper, Sal,” I whisper right back. “It’s confusing.”
I open my eyes to find Sal’s puzzled expression, and I giggle uncontrollably. “Oh, Sal. For a wise old man, you can be incredibly clueless at times.”
The car comes to a stop, and Sal’s quick to jump out, walking around the back to open my door. “I’ll walk you up,” he says loudly, as though trying not to whisper.
“Thank you.”
I link my arm through his as we walk up the steps to the front of the building, and when we reach the entry, I let go, spinning to face him.
“Thank you again. This was fun. How long do you think we can hold off before we have to do it again? You know, to ensure we keep that balance everyone speaks of.”
Sal chuckles when I frown. “A good month. Maybe two.”
“Oh, perfect. That works for me.”
I rustle around for my key in my bag and open the front door, holding it ajar as I say goodbye. “Have a good night, Sal. I?—”
“I’m walking you up.”
“What?”
“To your apartment.”
“I can find the way. I’m not that drunk.”
“I never said you were. Indulge an old man, would you?”
My jaw shifts as I gesture for him to walk through. “Age is simply a number, Sal. You know that, right?”
“Just walk.” His stern tone has me almost skipping ahead, and when we reach the elevator, I link my arm through his once more.
“Are you leaving me here, or escorting me to my door?”
“Your door.”
“How very kind of you, Sir.” Sal grumbles at my use of “sir” and I can’t help but laugh. “I don’t know why you’re so opposed to it, Sir. It suits you.”
“It suits me?”
“It does. You’re very Sir like.” For some reason I put on a very deep voice when I say that and Sal snorts.
“You know, some people may not like your ‘say what you think’ nature, but I quite enjoy it.” Sal’s eyes sparkle and I fake a frown.
“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or?—”
“Always a compliment, Keels. I can’t imagine ever saying a bad thing about you.”
“Another compliment. Thank you.”
When we reach my door, I pull Sal into me, wrapping my arms around his neck, giving him a squeeze.
Trying to be funny, I press a kiss to his cheek, only when I pull back, the energy shifts between us.
“I really did have fun tonight,” I whisper, my arms still locked around him, jolting when his palms settle on my waist. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. It’s been a while since I let myself relax and switch off.”
“Well, we have to change that.” I blink slowly as I stare up at him, and I may be imagining it, but I swear Sal’s palms clench around me ever so slightly. My fingers dance across the skin at the back of his neck as my heart beats frantically in my chest.
Why? I have no freaking idea, but I think I want him to come in.
Sal’s eyes darken, and this time, I’m certain his palms tense.
“Sal?” I question, with no clue what I’m asking him.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and it’s only when he sighs that I realize I have my lip trapped between my teeth. I release a breath, and a pained expression crosses his face before he lets go of me, his body unmoving.
“I should go.” His words come out raspy, and it takes me a second to respond.
“Okay,” I whisper, disappointment filling me, but he’s still not backing away.
“Do you—” One of our phones emits a loud beep as a text comes through, cutting me off while simultaneously breaking Sal’s trance.
“Fuck, sorry. I’m going.” He steps back this time, forcing me to release my hold. “Thank you for tonight. I’m in the office all day tomorrow, but I’ve arranged for Jeffrey to take you back to your car. Just let me know what time works.”
"You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. But it’s done. If you don’t text me, I’ll have him wait for you out front, and he won’t be impressed about that.” He raises an eyebrow and I smile at the demand, glancing away to hide it.
“Okay, I will.”
“Good night, Keeley.”
“Good night.”
Sal waits until I’m inside before he walks away, and I hold my breath, listening for the distinct ding of the elevator, only moving when I hear it.
I have no idea what the hell that was, but as much as it pains me, I want more.