“Right away, sir.” The waiter took off, zipping back into the kitchen and returning with a receipt and my card. He slid them onto the table in front of me then vanished again, only to return with a bottle of wine, standing by the women’s table.
I watched as he spoke to them with a smile, then both women turned to look at me. The blonde had rosy cheeks, though from the wine or from flattery I couldn’t tell. She batted her thick eyelashes at me and offered a smile. I remained seated there, observing as their animated conversation shrank to what looked like a conspiracy meeting, both of them hunched over the table leaning forward. They remained that way until the drink was empty.
When the blonde stood and lifted a case of some sort out of her seat, I shifted in my chair. I still hadn’t figured out who she was, though I was eager to do so. But I waited, hoping she would return my volley—and she did. She hung the strap to her case over her shoulder and strolled my way. The black slacks and dark, button-down top she wore hugged her curves, making my groin tense as she approached me.
Her smile faded as she stopped next to where I sat. A cloud of floral scent followed her, enveloping me in a wave as she slid a card across the tablecloth. Her manicured fingernails were chipped on the tips, but there was no ring on her finger, another hint that got me no closer to discovering who she was.
“Thank you for the drink.” Her voice was warm honey, soothing the curiosity in my mind. I forgot entirely the frenetic search of my memory for any hint of who she might be and looked up at her. I saw the recognition in her eyes; she definitely knew who I was. I wanted to ask if I knew her, but I could only take her card in my hand.
I looked down at it and read the name: Katherine Scott. A violinist with the symphony.
I knew a Scott… Jillian Scott. A name I’d rather not remember at all. My mind raced as I stared at that card. Jillian had a daughter… Kitty—which was short for Katherine; we called her Kat.
The very instant it hit me, my eyes jerked up to see her back as she walked out the door, her blonde hair swaying across the back of her jacket. The redhead stood in the doorway smirking at me, holding her hand up to her head like it was a phone. She grinned and stepped out the door too, following Katherine.
I didn’t know whether to be intrigued by this strange turn of events, turned on by how incredibly sexy Katherine was, or completely put off. Jillian had been everything I never wanted in a woman. How could I even entertain the idea of her daughter? And Ivy was right; Kat was literally 14 years younger than me. That would definitely be robbing the cradle.
But that smile…
4
KAT
My hand slid across the table for the third time tonight in a dream, pushing the business card toward the older gentleman. His black suit and salt-and-pepper hair were professional, but the lust in his eyes was anything but... Our fingers brushed lightly as I passed the card over. The dream was so vivid I could almost hear his voice saying my name, as if he were here with me now.
The scent of his cologne permeated my senses, calling to me and pulling me into him. My hand lingered on his for a moment, and I tried to speak, but no words would come out, so I smiled. I watched his eyes graze over my skin, across my curves to my feet and back up to my face. It settled on my lips as he stood, sliding his smooth palm across my cheek. He smelled like campfire and something sweet—apples maybe?
My body tensed, aching for his lips to cover mine and delight in me. I felt the spring of desire loosing in my center, shudders of lust like pin pricks in my fingertips. His hand was so strong, fingers guiding my head to the perfect angle as he leaned in, closing in on my lips. The way his mouth opened slightly, my eyes fluttering shut to embrace him, my body roiled with lust. My lips parted slightly, inviting him in, and then he spoke.
“Nine a.m. folks and this beautiful Saturday morning welcomes you all into the first day of fall.”
The nasally voice of the radio announcer awakened me with a jolt. Stolen from the sweetness of Victor’s kiss, I groaned my displeasure and beat the sheets, turning to shut off the clock radio. Being awakened from such an amazing dream was worse than having bad dreams, and I’d had a few of those to deal with lately following my breakup with Javier.
Seeing Victor last night brought back a flood of memories and the emotion that came with them. I still remembered the day he left us, though now the pain of that hurt had been solely fixed on my mother—not him. Watching him walk out that door gutted me. My teenage heart got completely destroyed that day, in ways I never knew a heart could hurt. So, the chance meeting in that restaurant on a night where I felt so alone truly felt like fate had sent him to me.
I rolled over in bed, reaching for my cell. Sun streamed in the corner window of the small condo I’d just purchased. Boxes still sat in the corner of the room, awaiting the unpacking that would make this place feel more like home. Graduation this past spring had come with a boost in my career as a violinist and with that a few more zeros in my paychecks. I never thought as a child that I would grow up to become a world-class violinist and play with the symphony, but here I was.
My hand jostled the glass of water situated on the nightstand next to the clock radio and my phone. Water splashed onto my phone screen, and I jerked my hand back, quickly wiping the screen on my comforter to dry it before it did any damage. The screen lit up as I wiped it, revealing a few notifications, so I swiped right and opened my apps one at a time, removing the notification indicators that irritated me.
I lay there blinding scrolling Twitter for a while, hoping to see something interesting to keep my mind from wandering back to thoughts of Victor, but the only thing I saw were lame ads for medications Big Pharma was shoving down the throats of scrollers, or gifs of baby animals. Neither of which held my interest. So stretched, yawning and pushing my blonde hair out of my face.
The room felt empty with nothing hung on the walls, no drapes on the windows yet, only mini blinds, and only the lonely whir of my box van to keep me company. A half-smile graced my face as I turned to my back and stared up at the ceiling. How amazing would it be if Victor took that card I’d given him and called me? I could invite him over for coffee, catch up, maybe more.
I was lost in my revery when my phone began to vibrate in my grip. Shrugging off the irrational hope, I squinted at the screen, my eyes adjusting to the light, and saw it was Bethany—would be coffee shop owner and high-school best friend. Her caller ID image was a selfie we’d taken together during spring break, just before I graduated Julliard. I swiped right to answer.
“Hey, Beth. Kinda early for this…” I yawned again, rubbing my eyes with my free hand and sitting up. After untangling my legs from the comforter, I scooted back so I leaned against the backboard of my bed, my pillow as lumbar support.
“Yeah, well when I wake up to a text like you sent last night, I can’t just sleep.”
Bethany was an early to bed, early to rise sort of person—made her great for running a coffee shop if you asked me. I could just see her seated at her kitchen table wearing her active wear, dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail, no makeup. She ran every morning before the sunrise, and on weekends she did long runs, which judging by the time meant she had been considerate enough to finish her run, cool down, and enjoy a cup of joe before calling me.
“So, dish… What on earth happened? How did you see him again?” Bethany’s eagerness was met with a squeal of sheer pleasure from my lips. Only she could understand exactly what me seeing Victor again after 10 years could do to my heart.
Our early teenage years had been spent sharing our secret crushes with each other. And despite the fact that Bethany had many of them—usually boys our age—I’d had only one. Victor. Nearly fifteen years older than me, I adored everything about him, his smile, his personality, not to mention he was drop-dead gorgeous. So only Bethany could truly appreciate how much this meant to me.
“So, my chair partner, Taylor—”
“The obnoxious girl with spiky hair who looks like she belongs in a high-school sitcom?” Bethany hated Taylor, and I had to admit that her personality was grating at times, but given her penchant for Mozart, she’d grown on me a bit. Regardless, I had to at least tolerate her due to our positions in the orchestra.