Page 24 of No Angels

“Why would I buy Bianca a piano?”

“Because she gave everyone there a concert on it.”

“When did this happen?” She never said a word.

“Saturday afternoon. Molly Monroe called me this morning. She told me in no uncertain terms I needed to convince Bianca to take over the theater because she played like an angel.” He shoots me a grin. “I told her I had my best guy working on it.”

I throw my head back and groan. Now the rumors will be unstoppable. “No you didn’t.”

“I did. So you need to work your magic.”

“We just had our first date.” I can’t hold back the smile.

He smirks. “Looks like it went pretty well.”

“Yeah. It went pretty well.”

He grins. Leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “I knew it. Taren and I made a bet, She said Bianca wouldn’t give in so easily. But I said I knew there would be a sleepover. Looks like I was right.”

Taren and Zane’s bets against each other have become almost legendary in this town. Sometimes they bring their entire circle of friends into it too, or every single person in Willow Creek.

I roll my eyes and cross my arms as I lean back. “I should’ve known you’d make Bumble Bee and I one of your stupid bets.”

“Bumble Bee?” He guffaws. “That’s what you call her? What kind of a nickname is that?”

“It’s what I used to call her when we were kids.”

“You have to think of a sexier nickname than that. Even something as generic as sweetheart would be better.”

I shrug. “She doesn’t seem to mind.”

His eyes light up. “So you’ve called her that in bed?”

“Dude, I am not talking to you about what happens in my bedroom.”

He gives me a smug grin. “You don’t have to. Your face is telling me everything I need to know.”

“Whatever,” I tell him as I stand, because there’s such a thing as too much meddling. “I have to go supervise stringing the lights across Main Street. I’ll think about buying her the piano.” I give him a salute and his laughter trails in my wake.

I just finished hanging the lights and the wreathes on all the town lamp posts, and I should go home and take a shower. But I need to see her and make sure she isn’t freaking out about what’s happening between us.

When I enter the church vestibule, I hear her.

Her voice stops me in my tracks – just like it did all those years ago. I lean against the wall and close my eyes.

She’s right, she doesn’t have the range she did back then. But her singing voice has this husky contralto undertone I can’t get enough of. She’s singingJust You WaitfromMy Fair Ladyand her Cockney accent and delivery make me smile.

When her voice trails off after the last note, I start clapping. She whirls around, and she looks nervous. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that. It was terrible.”

“You’re selling yourself short. It was magnificent.”

“No, it wasn’t. Broadway is like Shark Week and I already left a trail of blood in the water.”

“Your voice might be different, but you still sound incredible.”You’re still incredible, I want to tell her. You still stop the breath in my lungs and make me believe in things like fate and love and happily ever after.

“What’s phenomenal to your ears is mediocre to the ones that matter.”

“My ears don’t matter?”

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