Page 44 of Protector

Shay jumps from the bench and leans over the side of the upright, as if she needs a better view for the show. “What’s the big deal? Play already.”

“Damn, you are bossy,” I say, laying my hands in position, the levity a cover for the uneasiness suddenly taking me over. For some reason, there’s only one piece that comes to mind, so I start, knowing I can at least play the first half without sheet music.

Keeping my head down, I ease into it. I have a few hiccups, but the feeling, the rote memory, the sound of the haunting tune, comes quickly back and something inside me pulls tight, as if it’s either stretching or about to break. Reminding myself why I’m here and not wanting to stroll back into my younger days, I lift my hands.

The silence has me looking up to find Shay, her eyes glassy, staring at me. And it’s the last thing I need to see. Her expression sinks right into my chest like a damn arrow. “Really?” My tone is almost annoyed, and I scramble to recover. “Come on, Shay.”

Though I meant it figuratively, she slides back onto the bench next to me. “God, that was beautiful. You’re so skilled.” Then, as if we are two different people in a totally different situation, she slides her arm under mine and rests her head on my shoulder.

Impossibly, I decide not to be an ass and give her the moment. I know some people are strongly affected by music, especially classical, so I will chalk this reaction up to that.

Finally, she says, “What was that?”

I touch her head and say softly, “Brahms… One of the intermezzo pieces.”

“Amazing…” The word sounds like she’s singing it. “I love when people surprise me like that. I mean, I knew you played but…” She sighs, yet I’m practically holding my breath.

We sit quietly a few more moments before she lifts her head and then turns her body to me. “Okay, so what’s the story? Why are you so good, and how come you’re not doing this for a living or something?”

I laugh louder than I expected. “Thanks, but no, I’m not as good as that.”

She lifts a brow, but it’s more than that—she’s demanding more information.

“My parents were entertainers. My dad was a pianist, and my mom a singer. They used to play all kinds of venues and then eventually retired and just played some cruise ships. But my dad died when I was twelve. I guess I kept up the lessons to honor him.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” And as I’ve come to know, Shay slides a comforting hand down my arm. “So then what happened?”

“Happened?”

“Yeah, like…look at you. You don’t exactly scream concert pianist.”

The animation in her face, the way her expressions move across such extremes, is so magnetic it takes some serious willpower not to touch her face. “Well, my stepdad came along, and he was a military man and well…”

“The rest is history?”

“Something like that.”

“Play something else,” she says giddily, then her mouth quickly pulls into a tight line. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless. I shouldn’t have pressed you.” Her shoulders sag.

“No, it’s okay. I actually like to play from time to time. I just don’t get the opportunity.”

She huffs. “Then why were you so reluctant?”

Finally deciding to put an end to this line of questioning, I stand. “Because I’m on duty. Now, don’t you want to go look for your mom?”

Shay stands, smooths out the black dress she’s wearing, causing all my thoughts to leap from my brain. I don’t know if it’s because she was dressing for her mother’s birthday, but something about her seems…more mature, beautiful in a different way than I’m used to seeing her. And her hair is straighter, flowing freely as if she didn’t put hours of time in on it. “No, I don’t feel like being around a crowd. Can we go up to the rooms?”

Tearing my eyes from her body, I ask, “Rooms?”

“Yeah, we didn’t know if you were staying, so mom booked you a room. It’s adjoining mine.”

This is where I should make my exit. I’ll at least get her settled but staying in the room next to her? After this night we’ve shared? I’d have to be a fucking idiot.

* * *

Standing between the frames of the door that adjoins our rooms, this idiot conjures up the strength to say goodnight to Shay. I can’t make the same mistake I made in her bedroom, inching toward the point of no return. Yet, I can’t tear my eyes away either. She’s standing near her window, slipping out of her black heels. We’ve had such an amazing night together; sure, I could lie to myself and say we’ll just keep talking, maybe watch a movie, but that deep stare she’s locked in on me says I won’t be able to maintain any sense of decency between us. I sure as hell can recognize dirty visions dancing in a woman’s eyes and coming from Shay… Yes, I’m that fucking weak. It’s not like me, but it’s what she’s done to me—broken me down and pulled me in by my heart and soul.

“If you need anything…” I say and cringe when it registers how that sounds.

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