The Accidental Encore (15 page)

Leah sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
“She keeps asking me about lacrosse and school and stuff.”

“Do you answer?” Allie asked.

“No.”

“Your dad taught you better than that,” Craig said.

“I know that.”

Craig reached out a hand and lifted Leah’s chin where it had
fallen to her chest. “I think you know what to say to her. I think you can
start with an apology.”

Allie scooted between Craig and the coffee table and
crouched down so she and Leah were eye-to-eye. “Leah, I’m twenty-eight years
old and I have a terrible relationship with both my dad and my stepmom. I never
tried with either of them, and I’m telling you it doesn’t get any better or any
easier by just ignoring the problem or trying to wish your stepmom away. I’m
not going to sugar coat this for you. I’m going to tell you straight out. My
mom is a cold woman who never wanted kids. The best chance I had for a normal
mom was Suzanne, and I blew it because I was too jealous and too selfish to let
her in. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Give Carolyn a chance. You have so
much to gain and everything to lose if you don’t.”

Leah grabbed onto Allie and hugged her with so much strength
she almost pushed Allie over. Craig righted her with a hand on her shoulder and
kept it there as Leah sobbed into Allie’s coat. Allie shushed her and ran her
hand down Leah’s soft, dark hair. “Let it out, sweet girl,” she cooed as
memories of her own tortured childhood surged through her pounding head.

She wouldn’t have noticed the doorbell if it weren’t for
Blackjack’s barking and the feel of Craig’s hand leaving her shoulder. Allie
stood up and wiped the tears from Leah’s cheeks.

“Leah?” Mark said from behind them.

Allie’s throat tightened when Leah leapt into his arms and
buried her head against his chest. The look of relief on his face at having his
daughter back made Allie turn away. She’d never had anyone, not anyone, look at
her with so much love in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” Leah sobbed. “I’m so sorry I worried
you.”

“Leah, you can’t ever leave the house without telling us first.
Promise me you won’t ever do that again.”

Leah nodded and looked over Mark’s shoulder to where Carolyn
stood at the entrance to the den. Her arms were wrapped tightly under her
chest, her fingers making indents into her sweater. “I’m sorry, Carolyn, for
being disrespectful.”

“Oh, honey. We were just so worried.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Carolyn timidly crept to where Mark held Leah and enfolded
both of them in her arms, settling her head against Leah’s back. Allie walked
around the couch and into the foyer where Craig stood by the door. “May I use
your restroom?” she whispered.

He pointed with his head to a door off the adjacent hallway
and she quickly disappeared inside before the dam of her tears broke and she
made a fool of herself. She could only stare at her pale reflection in the
mirror and watch the tears silently pool around the corners of her mouth. She
closed the toilet, sat down on the lid, and buried her face in a wad of toilet
paper, hoping to muffle her sobs. Like everything else in the house, the bare
walls only magnified her sniffles.

***

Craig didn’t wait for Allie to emerge from the bathroom, but
dragged his weary butt into the kitchen and fished a bottle of red from the
rack he’d built into the island. He uncorked the bottle and reached for the
largest glass he could find.

“Craig?” he heard her call a moment later.

“In the kitchen.”

She’d done the best she could to mask the tears he’d heard
her shed. Her eyes were swollen and she’d chewed off her lipstick, but she gave
him a dazzling smile and accepted the glass of wine as though she hadn’t just
cried her eyes out in his bathroom.

“It hasn’t had time to breathe,” he said.

He tried not to flinch when he saw her hands tremble as she
lifted the glass to her lips. “So,” she said after taking a large sip. “That
went well.”

He chuckled. “You think that went well?”

Allie tossed a shoulder in the air after easing out of her
coat. She wore a silky button down blouse that tied at her waist. The mustard
color made her appear pale as a ghost, but seemed to illuminate the golden
color of her eyes. “It could have been worse,” she said. “Did they go home?”

“Yep.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

He poured himself a glass and contemplated his answer while
taking a sip. He really wanted a beer, but this wasn’t half bad. “It’s hard to
stay mad at you when you look like I could knock you over with a weak poke.”

She snorted and sank onto a stool. “Sorry,” she said. “That
was hard.”

He worried she was going to start crying again and needed to
lighten the mood. He said the first thing that popped into his mind. “So,
what’s a music transposer, anyway?”

“What?” She laughed at him, but her smile didn’t reach her
eyes.

“Music transposer. That’s what your profile says.”

“You read my profile?”

He shrugged and wished something else had popped into his
head. “You’re in my age range. Did you read mine?”

“Yes.”

He wiggled his brows and leaned against the butcher block.

“But only to see how you did on your paragraphs,” she said.

“And what do you think?”

She took a sip. To his great relief, her hands were steady.
“I think you did okay.”

“Okay?” he asked. “I sweated over those two paragraphs for
hours. Days. And all you can say is that I did okay?”

“What do you want me to say, Craig? That it was the best,
most descriptive string of words I’ve ever read?”

“I wouldn’t want you to lie.”

“Then okay is the best you’re going to get.” She splayed her
hands on the counter and tracked him with her eyes as he pulled bread and
sandwich meat from the refrigerator. “I transpose music.”

“I’m familiar with the -er suffix. What I want to know is
what it is.”

She huffed out an impatient breath. “I change musical scores
for different instruments.”

“I thought all instruments used the same music.”

“Most do, but some instruments’ pitch is transposed. The
saxophone, the French horn, the clarinet, and a couple others.”

“So how do you figure out how to transpose their music? Do
you play all of those?”

“No. Notes are vibrations of air. Their frequency is
measured in hertz.”

“So, it’s math?” He slapped ham and roast beef on bread. He
didn’t ask, but put mustard and mayonnaise on both sandwiches.

“Yes. There are computer programs that transpose music, but
they’re not always accurate. For complicated pieces, musicians pay me to do it
for them.” She shrugged. “It helps pay the mortgage.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Not really. I’ve got a math mind.”

He slid the plated sandwich in front of her and retrieved a
jar of pickles from the fridge. He slapped one on her plate without asking.

She sat up. “You don’t have to feed me.”

“Sure I do.” He tapped her almost empty glass with his
finger. “You won’t be able to drive home without food in your stomach.”

“You’re right about that,” she said and put a hand on her
forehead. “Do you mind if I grab some water?”

“Water’s free.” He poured what was left of her wine from her
glass into his and took a bite of his sandwich. “So, how old were you when your
parents divorced?”

She twisted the cap off the bottle she’d retrieved from the
fridge and took a dainty sip. “Eleven.”

“Ahhh.”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s hitting a little too close for
comfort.”

“Eat up,” he said when she sat staring out the window.

“Sorry.” She picked up the sandwich. “You probably have
plans for tonight.”

“Not tonight, other than a shower. I’ve got my first online
date on Friday.”

“Do you?” She smiled at him with a smudge of mustard at the
corner of her mouth.

She licked it off and he looked away. Allie eating and
drinking wine in his kitchen, swollen eyes and an unpainted mouth aside, also
fell under the category of a little too close for comfort. He’d been so pissed
off at her before, when he thought she’d planted a seed in Leah’s mind. She
had, but unlike his initial assumption, it wasn’t intentional and it certainly
wasn’t malicious. “I’m going the traditional route. Drinks with an option for
dinner.”

“What’s her name?”

“Jealous?” he asked.

She gave him a haughty stare. “No, just curious.”

“Emily,” he said. “Emily Brand.”

“Huh.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin and took another
sip of water. Food was bringing all the color back to her face. “I’ve got a
date on Friday, too. We’re going to see the Gladiators play.”

He set his wine down without taking a sip. “I thought you
didn’t like hockey.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it; I said I don’t know the
game.”

“Why hockey?”

“I don’t know. He’s from up north, so I figure he’s a fan.
Like I said before, it’s a good way to spend an evening together without having
to fill up every second with chatter.”

He’d never had any lapses in chatter with Allie and he
hardly got along with anyone, but he wasn’t going to point out the obvious. He
wasn’t dating her. “So what’s his name?”

“Steve Kellman. He’s an architect.”

Craig thought back to the bevy of architects he used to work
with through Archer Construction. “Never heard of him.”

“I don’t think he does residential,” she said and gave her
pickle a sniff.

“It’s kosher.” It shouldn’t have bothered him, her assuming
he was nothing more than a handyman. He’d lost everything because of Archer
Construction, but he’d busted his butt building that company up from a one-man
shop to a three million dollar operation. “I used to work with commercial
architects. I’m pretty familiar with most of them.”

“Oh.” She sat her sandwich down and pushed her plate away.

“You’re not going to eat the crust?” he asked.

“No.”

“You ate your pizza crust. Why wouldn’t you eat your
sandwich crust?”

“Why are you so observant with trivial things?” she asked.
“I like pizza crust. It’s basically a breadstick. I don’t like sandwich crust.”

“But it’s just bread.”

“I don’t like it,” she insisted. “You didn’t eat your pizza
crust and you ate your sandwich crust. What’s the difference?”

“I save the pizza crust for Blackjack.” The dog sat up at
the mention of his name. “The sandwich crust is part of the sandwich.”

“Technically, so is the pizza crust.” She took both of their
plates to the sink and rinsed them with water.

“No,” he said. “It’s more like a handle for the pizza.”

“You’re an odd man, Craig.”

He carried their glasses to the sink and snuck a sniff of
her hair. She smelled like pumpkin tonight.

She turned off the water and pivoted so they were
face-to-face. Their gazes locked and stayed locked as his pulse beat in his
head. She looked relaxed and vulnerable and way too tempting. He deliberately
took a step back when every instinct in his body pushed him to do the opposite.
“Are we becoming friends, Craig?”

It was an interesting question considering he felt light
headed from being in such close contact. He was pretty sure a friend had never
made him feel like he’d been punched in the gut with just a look. “I’ve never
had a female friend.”

“I’ve never had a male friend, at least one that was
straight.” She placed her palm on his chest and he felt anything but friendly
at the intimate contact. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.” She
pulled her hand away and retrieved her coat from the chair. “Thank you for
dinner.”

“Don’t mention it. Thanks for…helping out with Leah.”

“I’m glad you called. If she pulls another stunt, will you
let me know?”

“I don’t think she will after tonight, but yes, you’ll be
the first to know.”

He walked her to the door. “Go grab your shower, Craig, you
don’t have to see me out.”

“I wasn’t born in a barn, Allie. I think I can manage.”

“Good luck on your date,” she said as she turned to face him
on the porch. Her breath came out as tiny puffs of smoke in the chilly night.

“You too.”

Halfway down the walk, she turned around. “Do me a favor,
would you? Call me and let me know how it goes.”

“Why?”

“I’m curious. I’d like to know what it feels like from the
other side.”

Right now, watching her saunter toward her car, it felt damn
uncomfortable having thoughts of her swirling around his head. “Yeah,” he said.
“I’ll let you know.”