Chapter 7
HUNTER
After dinner, I drove Seraphina home, the two of us chatting easily, almost like we’d known each other for years.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” Seraphina asked.
“Oh yeah. It’s seared into my memory. You came into the bar with your girlfriends. February of last year. I’d just moved here. When I saw the five of you come in together I thought this town must have a more than usual number of beautiful women.”
She laughed. “My friends will love to hear that.”
“But it was you who truly caught my eye.”
“Don’t tell me it was my red hair,” she said.
“Your hair is gorgeous, but no, it was your attitude. I could tell you were smart and independent. Then one of the servers told me you were a writer, which intrigued me even more.”
“Really? That’s funny.”
“What about you? Do you remember that night?”
“Yes, I do. You had already been the talk of the town. Word had it The Pelican had a new hunky bartender. You did not disappoint. Even though you’ve been somewhat of an enigma.”
“Not on purpose. I’m kind of reserved by nature,” I said. “It takes me a while to get comfortable with people. That and I was still majorly licking my wounds. My divorce had only been final for a few months when I decided to move out here.”
“I have to ask—is living here something that’s going to stick? Or are you going back to Nashville eventually?”
“About the former, I didn’t think so, but, the longer I’m here, the more it feels like home.”
“You can write music from here.”
“That’s right. Just like you can write anywhere.”
I turned up her long driveway, shutting off the engine when we arrived at the house. I shut off the engine and was about to get out to open the passenger side door when she reached across the console and placed her hand on my arm.
“There’s something I’d like to ask you,” Seraphina said.
“Go for it.”
“I haven’t kissed anyone in a really long time and I kind of want to get it over with.”
I laughed. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“I don’t mean it that way. It’s just on my mind, and, until we do it, I’m not going to be able to focus on anything else.”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first night you walked into the bar,” I said. “So you don’t have to ask me twice.”
I pulled her to me, taking my time, brushing back her shiny hair, loving the way the silky strands felt in my fingers. Then, I leaned close and kissed her as tenderly as I could muster. I didn’t want to scare her away when I finally had my shot.
When we pulled away, she sighed. “I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
“What’s that?”
“Kissing you is even better than I imagined,” she said.
“Have you imagined it many times?” I ran my thumb under her bottom lip.
“A girl should never confess that kind of secret. But yes. I’ve had a crush on you for longer than I care to admit.”
“A crush? That sounds promising.”
“You want to come in for a while?” Seraphina asked. “We could put on some music. Talk some more?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Would love to.” I glanced at the house. The lights were dimmed, but I could see that a television was on in the front room. “Will it be okay though? Tyler’s still awake.”
“He’s waiting for us.”
“Will I be in trouble for making out with you in my truck?”
“Since he orchestrated all this, I don’t think so.”
I got out of the truck to run around and help her down, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her in for another kiss. “I could do this all night,” I said against her mouth. “But I’ll behave myself.”
We walked toward the house, holding hands. I felt as giddy as a kid at Christmas. I hardly recognized myself. If this kept up, my reputation as a grump would be in jeopardy.
Tyler was on the couch when we came through the door, feet on the coffee table, watching a movie. He sat up to greet us. “Hey. How was dinner?”
“Really good,” Seraphina said, setting her clutch on the entryway table. “How was your evening?”
“Good. I put the new strings on my guitar.” He got up from the couch, running a hand through his thick hair, studying his mother. “Your lipstick’s smudged.”
Seraphina flushed, swiping under her bottom lip.
Tyler grinned, which told me he knew exactly what had smeared her lipstick.
I changed the subject, real quick. “Your mom tells me you’ve got your learner’s permit. Are you excited to drive?”
“I cannot wait. But at this rate, I’m never going to learn.
Mom’s afraid to take me out. She acts like a total maniac whenever I’m driving,” Tyler said to me.
“Clutching that handle thing and pushing her foot into the floor like she thinks it’s a brake.
And she said some words I’ve never heard come out of her mouth. ”
Seraphina clutched the necklace that hung around her neck. “Mostly because I was afraid for my life.”
“I’m not that bad. Mom’s a nervous passenger.”
I chuckled. “Wes taught me to drive. I remember a few tense moments.”
“How come your dad didn’t teach you?” Tyler asked.
“He worked a lot when I was a kid, so Wes stepped in,” I said.
“Oh, that’s cool.” A wistfulness crept into Tyler’s voice.
“I could take you out tomorrow,” I said. “If it would help?”
“Yes, it would definitely help,” Seraphina said a little too quickly.
Tyler’s face lit up. “Really? Yeah, that would be awesome.”
“I’ll be here at the house if you want to take my car out,” Seraphina said. “It’s probably best since that’s the car he’ll take the test in.”
“Sure thing,” I said. “What time should I meet you?”
“Around five?” Tyler asked. “After practice?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Awesome.” Tyler grinned. “Okay, I’m headed up to bed. See you both tomorrow.”
He took off, taking the stairs two at a time until we heard the sound of him moving down the hallway toward his room.
“What bad words did you say?” I asked, teasing, as I took her hands in mine.
“You don’t want to know. I was ashamed of myself. But seriously, I’ve never been as afraid in my life. You sure you want go out with him tomorrow?”
“I have nerves of steel. Plus, I always do what I say I’m going to do.”
“I’m going to open wine,” Seraphina said. “And then let’s listen to music. I’ll show you my dad’s favorite albums. But first, I’m going to run upstairs and change into jeans. Make yourself at home in my office. It’s even tidy today.”
“I’ll be sorry to see the dress go, but I understand,” I said, smiling.
“I’ll wear the dress again.” She smiled back at me before heading upstairs.
When I opened the door to her office, I paused for a moment.
The scent of her perfume hung in the air.
The bookshelves held copies of her editions but also many others.
Everything from romance to mystery and historical fiction.
I ran my hands over the back of her chair, wondering what it felt like to sit at her desk every day and make something out of nothing.
That was the beauty of writing. An author could make any kind of world they wanted to explore. It was kind of like magic.
I turned toward the record cabinet. She must have eight hundred records packed onto the shelves.
Seraphina came in with two glasses of wine. She’d changed into a pair of loose jeans and a light sweater. Bare feet. Toes painted red. She handed me a glass, then lowered herself to the floor beside me, her back against the credenza, close enough that her shoulder was warm against mine.
“Pick a record,” she said.
I flipped through and picked a Cole Bridges record. He was a big-voiced Tennessee singer who’d had four number ones between ’92 and ’96. I pulled out the liner notes and found my dad’s name right away. “My dad played on this one.”
“Cole Bridges,” she said softly. “My dad loved him. He said his voice soothed him when he was agitated or nervous.”
“Yeah, he had that kind of voice.”
“That one was his favorite of all the Cole Bridges albums. I can’t tell you how many times he played it.” She pulled out another of Cole’s albums. “But this one’s my favorite.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s a good one,” I said. “’Broken Road Home.’ 1994.”
“That’s right. Good memory.”
“Put it on,” I said.
She opened the turntable and carefully slid the record out of its sleeve.
“My dad was very particular about his records. I was eight when he finally said I was old enough to learn how to do it properly. No touching except for the rims. Which was tricky for small hands, but I did it because I wanted the privilege to play them.” She put the record in place and lifted the needle onto the edge.
Seconds later, the room filled with Cole Bridges’ voice singing a song about the whispering pines of Tennessee with my father’s guitar accompanying him.
She pushed up the sleeves of her sweater and held out her arms. “Goosebumps every time.”
I looked down at the cover. The art had a nineties quality, with a wide sky, empty highway and a man walking away from the camera.
“I can always tell it’s my dad by the way he bends the notes. He could make the strings sound like every human emotion on the planet.”
Seraphina sat back on the floor, her wine glass cradled in both hands. “I love that description.”
I settled beside her, my legs stretched out in front of me, our thighs inches apart.
I swear I could feel an electric spark between us.
And the scent of her floral perfume almost made me dizzy with desire.
“When I was a kid I wished he was more of a show up at my baseball games type of guy. But that wasn’t him.
He was happiest at work, obviously, and we rarely connected.
But we shared a love of music. That’s when I felt the closest to him. Music was his great love.”
“I feel like that about my work too. Other than Tyler, obviously. But the work itself, even though it can be hard, always makes me feel like who I’m supposed to be. But I’ve worried that I don’t give enough of myself to Tyler. He takes care of me when it should be the other way around.”