Penalty Play - Lynda Aicher Page 0,3

college entrance audition and still thought of it as her lucky song—if you could call a twenty-five minute, three-movement classical piece of music a song.

The notes soothed through her. The rapid run of keys and tones, mixed with the complexity of movement, overtook every thought as she became part of the sonata. The store filled with the music, the room a poor receptor for the quality of the instrument. It didn’t matter to her though. It wasn’t about the actual sound or who heard it, not for her. It was about making the notes come to life. Feeling the music clear to her toes until nothing else mattered.

She should’ve known better than to start that particular piece of music. The highly technical quality of the allegretto always demanded her full attention, no matter how often she played it, and it’d been months since she’d played anything classical.

A sense of being watched registered in her subconscious as she neared the end of the movement. It jerked her out of her zone, and she whipped her head up to spot a tall, bulky man studying her from across the room. With a heavy five o’clock shadow and a worn Red Sox hat pulled low on his brow, his expression was mostly hidden.

Damn. Her fingers froze then curled guiltily into her palms. The last notes lingered in the air between them in an accusing ring of her irresponsibility.

“I’m sor—” she started.

“Don’t stop on—” he said at the same time, hand raising in silent apology.

Her laugh was dry and forced as she swung her legs around on the bench. Anyone could’ve walked in while she’d been zoned out in the music. A robber or rapist, according to her older brothers, which had her mentally rolling her eyes at the overprotective absurdity. But she knew better than to get lost like that when she was alone in the store.

“No,” she quickly added with a genuine smile. “I should be working, not playing. What can I do for you?”

The man shook his head, a gentle smile softening his gruff features. “I wouldn’t call that playing.”

He hadn’t moved from his spot over twenty feet away. Tall and broad, he could easily overpower her if he chose to. But with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cargo shorts, he didn’t come across as intimidating, despite his size.

Intrigued, she cocked a brow and stood. “No? Then what would you call it?”

“Art.”

The recognition and understanding brought an instant warmth to her chest. And...it stumped her, coming from a guy who appeared more than a bit uncomfortable in the music store. But he had to be a fellow musician or at a minimum a lover of classical music. Another contradiction based on his appearance.

“Thank you,” she managed to say.

“So please—” he motioned to the piano. “Finish.”

“No.”

“Please.” His immediate, soft-spoken plea had her rethinking the man yet again. “It was beautiful.” He swiped the back of his hand over his chin, gaze darting away. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard ‘The Tempest.’ I’d...” His deep swallow was visible across the room as he stuffed his hand back in his pocket. “I’d like to hear the end.”

She slowly sat back down, unsure of what to make of her customer. “You know that piece?” She cringed at her silly question. Obviously he did, or he wouldn’t have named it. “Right. Of course you do,” she rushed to say before he could respond. “Sorry.” She swung her legs around, her right foot finding its home by the pedals. A quick scan from the corner of her eye showed him studying her. “You surprised me.” In more than one way.

His nod was slow, a weighted agreement. “I didn’t mean to.”

The low pitch of his voice stroked over her awareness to pluck at her curiosity. She set her fingers on the keys. “Do you play?”

He glanced down, feet shifting as he cleared his throat. “Guitar, some.”

Yet he could recognize a classical piano piece by ear. Interesting, but she squashed the urge to push him on it. People could appreciate all types of music without needing to explain themselves. The fact that he found pleasure in the notes she played was enough for her.

The clock behind the counter showed Max had ten minutes left on his break. He’d be back if anything went wrong with this guy. Plus there were security cameras. And the man hadn’t done anything to make her think he’d do something bad. Outside of his size, he was about as