chapter 13

AN HOUR LATER, I'M WEARING my all-black concert attire: an ankle-length dress that's cinched in at the waist, black pumps, and touched-up black toenail polish. My hair is pulled back in a sleek half-up, half-down style, and I swept a bit of blush onto my cheeks and mascara onto my lashes.

Dex rides in the passenger's seat as I drive us to the concert hall. I keep glancing over at him, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he's here, with me, riding in my Honda Civic like it's the most natural thing in the world.

It's a warm evening, and he rolls his window down. The breeze tousles his long hair. Watching it catch in the wind makes me want to reach over and run my fingers through it. I have to squeeze the steering wheel to keep from doing just that.

Dex has his shades on, but it makes no difference; the girls in the car next to us at the red light immediately recognize him. Their faces light up, and all three of them—including the driver—reach for their phones and start snapping photos.

He smiles, but when we take off from the light, he rolls the window right back up and sighs as he settles back into the seat.

"Does that bother you?" I ask, keeping my eyes trained forward. It's easier to talk to him when I don't have to be dazzled by his face.

It takes a moment for him to respond. "I don't know. Sometimes, I guess. Depends on the day."

I worry at my lower lip, imagining how exhausting it would be to have people recognize me everywhere I go. Leaving my house is enough of a chore as it is.

"I'd hate it," I say.

Out of my peripherals, I can see him glance at me. A furrow forms in his brow, but I can't turn my head to look at him fully, can't decipher the look he's giving me. And then it's gone, vanishing as quickly as the palm trees passing our windows as we cruise down the road at fifty-five.

A treble clef ornament hangs from my rearview mirror, and Dex reaches up to touch it, his tattoos contrasting against his skin.

"You're cool, Nora," he says quietly, almost thoughtfully. He's said my name before, and it's delicious every time, but he uses a different intonation this time, and it almost sounds like a foreign word on his tongue.

That makes me glance over at him, but he's not looking at me, instead watching as the treble clef spins around and around, catching and reflecting the light from the passing streetlamps .

After that, Dex becomes quiet, and we don't speak the rest of the way to the venue.

I CAN'T COUNT THE NUMBER of concerts I've played in over the course of my career, but I can count on one hand how many times Dex Reid has been in the audience.

Tuning up in the greenroom, my hands were shaking, and now, as I wait in the wings with Eleanor, I have to take steadying breaths to calm my racing heart.

"You okay?" she asks, giving me a curious once-over. "You look... nervous."

I flash her a smile. "I'm fine. I've got a... friend in the audience tonight."

Is that what Dex is? A friend? I'm not so sure I can even call him that. A sexy acquaintance I want to tear the clothes off of? Sure. But a friend? Probably not. And that makes me sad for some reason.

We're introduced onstage, and the orchestra begins filing out into the lights. Because Eleanor is here, she'll take to the stage last, so I head out with the others and find my second-chair spot.

I want to know where Dex is sitting, but the lights are so bright that I can't make out any of the audience members with clarity. But I swear I can feel his eyes on me, and I sit straighter as Eleanor walks onstage and takes her place before the orchestra. She tunes the lower strings first, followed by the higher strings, and then takes her seat beside me.

I play more passionately than usual, drawing out each vibrato with intensity and emotion. It's as if I'm playing for him , only him, in an auditorium with just the two of us. Knowing Dex is out there somewhere, watching me onstage, makes me want to perform at my highest ability, and I must do just that, because backstage after the performance, Mr. Edrington pulls me aside.

"I'm still taking sign-ups for the audition," he says, peering at me over the thin rim of his glasses. His hair is wild from his energetic conducting, giving him a bit of an Einstein look. "You play in the audition like you did tonight, and you have a very good chance, Nora."

"Thank you, sir." I give him a bashful smile. "I'll consider it."

Yet again, he looks displeased with my answer.

"Very well." He sighs and walks off to speak with some of the other musicians, and my joy is knocked down just a peg.

In the greenroom, a group of women talk excitedly, and despite my anxious thoughts and the disappointment gnawing at my stomach, I can't help but overhear.

"Someone said Dex Reid is in the audience."

I pause putting my violin away.

"No way. Why would he be here?"

"I don't know, but hurry up! Let's try to catch him before he leaves."

The women hurry past, not paying me any mind, and my stomach turns. I hope he's not being bombarded with people and cameras and requests for autographs. Seeing the way he rolled his window up in the car earlier, I know he's not in the mood for it tonight .

Now I'm doubting whether it was a good idea to even invite him to the concert. Maybe he just said yes because he felt bad, and now he's going to be swarmed with crazy fans.

After hurriedly packing up, I make my way out the main doors, keeping an eye out for throngs of people. I don't see Dex anywhere, and the women who were talking about him are standing in front of the building, looking dejected.

Good. That means they couldn't find him.

Heading around to the back of the building, I spot my Honda in the far corner of the parking lot, a dark figure leaning against the passenger's side. The sun has long since gone down, and Dex is just a faceless shadow standing in the dark.

"Hey," I say, a little breathless as I get to the car and look around to make sure no one has spotted him. "You okay?"

When he turns around, his face is calm. "Yeah. Why?"

I let out a relieved sigh. "Oh, I just heard some people saying they'd seen you and was afraid they were bothering you."

His calm expression shifts, and now he's smiling at me.

"What?" I ask.

"You were worried about me?"

Heat flares in my cheeks, and I grip my violin case a little tighter. "Yeah, I guess so... I didn't want anyone harassing you."

Dex leans his elbows on top of my car, and my eyes trace the ink running up his forearms, across his biceps, and under the sleeves of his tee.

"That might be the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me." His smile is shifting into a smirk now, and I roll my eyes, hoping he can't see the flush in my cheeks in the low light .

"Okay, hurry up and unlock the car before a horde comes this way." I gesture at the rear door, and Dex smirks at me a moment longer before pulling the key out of his pocket and unlocking the doors.

When we arrived, I headed in first to prepare for the concert, and he stayed in the car until the start of the concert to avoid being seen by everyone in the auditorium. Sure, he was still spotted, but our plan seems to have worked considering there aren't any groupies flocking around him right now.

I ease my violin into the back, then slip into the driver's seat. Dex gets in on the other side, and as I start up the car and head for the exit, he looks over at me.

"You were great tonight," he says, all playfulness gone from his voice.

His compliment makes my stomach flutter, and I focus even harder on the road to keep from getting flustered.

"Thanks. That night Ashton saw me play, our first chair wasn't there, so I got to step in as concertmistress." My lips pull into a smile just thinking about it. "She's retiring after this season, so we'll have a new first chair next season."

Beside me, Dex shifts in his seat to face me. "Is that what you want? To be the concertmistress?"

He asks it so casually, as if it isn't the thing I've yearned for all these years, the thing that feels like it's right at my fingertips and yet still out of my grasp.

My voice is small as I say, "Yeah."

"How do you do it?"

We pull up to a red light, and I look over at him. Is he really asking me about my dream right now? His face is serious, and he's staring at me, waiting for my answer .

"Well, I have to audition for it, but it's more than that." My hands tighten on the steering wheel.

"More how?" he presses.

"You have to be a leader, someone the orchestra can look up to. The concertmistress—or concertmaster—is only one step down from our conductor. They lead rehearsals, communicate with all the sections, assist with bowing patterns..." It feels heavy just saying it all out loud, and I sigh. "If it were based on technical skill alone, I could do it, but all that other stuff... I don't know."

"So . . . you're afraid?"

His blatant question makes me narrow my eyes at him. Dex stares right back, blue eyes sharp as they damn near tear into my soul.

"N-no," I say, but even as the word passes my lips, I know it's a lie.

I'm not just scared; I'm terrified.

"I'm not a leader," I say quietly, my shoulders drooping. "The orchestra needs someone outgoing, charismatic... Someone like you."

He laughs, but it doesn't have much humor in it. "That's just one type of leadership, Nora."

Hearing him say my name sends a spark across my skin, and I stare hard at the brake lights in front of us, trying not to physically react.

"Sometimes quiet leaders demand even more respect, and they're damn well worthy of it." He reaches toward me slowly, and his fingers brush my cheek, making goose bumps rise on my arms. "The orchestra would be lucky to have you. You should audition. "

With his fingertips now trailing down the side of my neck, it takes all my effort and focus not to melt into a puddle in my front seat. When I don't respond, Dex presses harder.

"Promise me."

I glance over at him. "What?"

"Promise me you'll audition."

He's looking at me with such focus, such intensity, that I almost get lost in his eyes.

"Well?" he asks, his voice low.

"Okay." It's just a whisper, but it feels dangerous on my lips. "I promise."

Dex's serious expression morphs into a smile, and he steals his hand back and rights himself in his seat just as a car horn blares behind me.

I jolt forward, realizing the light is green, and try to wrap my head around what I've done.

I promised Dex I'll audition for the concertmistress role, and just the thought of it makes a stone of dread sit heavily in my stomach.