What He Never Knew (What He Doesn't Know, #3)(82)

What he was implying was crystal clear. He wanted Sarah out of here, away from me, and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

That was fine.

I’d made a promise to Sarah that I’d find a way for us to be together, that I’d figure everything out. I knew in order to achieve that, I’d have to show her uncle — show everyone — that I cared for Sarah. She was important to me, I respected her, and I wanted her to succeed just as much as her family did — maybe even more.

Yes, I was older. Yes, she had been my student. But what we had was real, and I would prove it.

He was right, I did have connections in New York. If I could help her achieve her dream, help her get to the place she wanted to be, it would show not just her how much I cared, but everyone around her, too. And as Mr. Henderson offered me one last wave over his shoulder before climbing back into Sarah’s car, I pulled out my phone, flipping through it until I found an old, familiar name.

I knew just who to call.





Sarah



I might as well have had roller blades strapped to my feet for the way I was gliding around The Kinky Starfish Wednesday night. Then again, judging by the way I’d fallen on my face in the park, maybe that was a bad analogy. Still, I felt like I was skating, floating, completely weightless as I bussed tables and helped the wait staff fill orders. We were busier than normal, every seat in the house taken, and while everyone else was wearing the stress on their sleeves, I couldn’t stop smiling.

Maybe it was because I could still taste Reese on my lips from the day before, could still feel him pressing me into the piano when he’d had enough of our lesson and wanted to spend our last hour together very much not working. Maybe it was the memory of his fingers inside me Saturday night, the butterflies that flurried to life in my stomach when I thought of the possibility that we could have a round two tonight. Kissing between lessons had been nice, but ever since I’d had a taste of Reese, I’d wanted more.

Tonight, I hoped I’d get it.

I told my uncle I was staying the night with a friend, to not expect me home after work, and though he didn’t seem entirely comfortable with the idea, he’d agreed. It wasn’t that I really needed his permission. I was certainly old enough not to have to ask. But, I was staying in his home, under his roof, and I wanted to respect him and all he’d done for me that summer. It was more of a courtesy, letting him know where I’d be.

Even if that courtesy was technically a lie.

But I couldn’t find it in me to feel guilty, not with Reese stealing glances across the room at me all evening long. The way his eyes darkened when they found me, the way the left side of his mouth quirked up into that familiar smirk — it was enough to drive any woman mad.

And I was the one who had his attention.

He had just finished playing one of my favorite songs by Debussy when I slid behind the bar, collecting the dishes from the couple who had just left. We had a long line of people waiting to be seated, and as soon as I cleared those two spaces, someone else would occupy them. I glanced at Reese as the last note played, and when our eyes met, he winked, sending a wave of heat from my neck all the way down to my toes. I felt the flush shading my cheeks as I tore my eyes away, smiling and shaking my head as I continued clearing the bar.

“He’s incredible to watch, isn’t he?”

I smiled even wider, still collecting dishes. “He really is,” I answered, but when I lifted my gaze to the woman who had spoken, every hint of a smile fell from my face in an instant.

Jennifer Stinson.

“Oh, hello,” I breathed, trying to replace the smile. My lips twitched, but I couldn’t manage anything more than that. “Jennifer, right?”

Her lips curved up wickedly at my attempt at nonchalance. “That’s right. And you’re Sarah Henderson, Randall’s niece.” Her eyes narrowed, sizing me up from head to toe before she tilted her head to the side. “And the lucky little lady studying piano with tonight’s main attraction.”

My cheeks burned again, though this time it was much less pleasant. “Is there anything I can get you?” I asked, even though she already had a full glass of red wine clutched between her manicured fingers.

She tilted the glass in my direction, still smiling as she took a sip. When the glass was back on the bar, she tilted her head to the other side, not bothering to cover her blatant observation of me.

“It must be somewhat distracting,” she said after a moment. “Learning from Reese. I mean, let’s not be coy, dear. He’s not exactly hard on the eyes, is he?”

I swallowed, tossing the last dish in the bin I’d carried over from the kitchen before whipping out a rag to wipe down the bar. “I don’t really look at him like that,” I said. “He’s my teacher.”

“Oh, right,” she said, face twisting up conspicuously as she made an ok sign with her hand. “I’m sure your professional relationship with him makes it impossible to see how insanely hot he is.”

All pretenses of fair play were gone with that sentence, with the way her eyes narrowed as she took another sip of wine.

“Well, enjoy your evening, Miss Stinson,” I said, tossing the rag on top of the dirty dishes in the bin. I picked it up, balancing it on my hip as I turned for the kitchen, but I didn’t make it a step before she spoke again.