Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

BELLA

E mily raises her eyebrow at me from her chair across the room with intense interest on her face. "What do you mean … romantic?"

I shrug, trying to make it seem like no big deal. "I'm probably reading too much into it, honestly. But there was something about his texts and how he talked about music …"

I'm underselling the feelings reading his words provoked in me. I didn't expect the tall, handsome, serious-looking man to have that side. It makes me want to get to know him, which, obviously, is not the point of all this.

"Are you telling me you've got some poetry for me to decode?" Emily says, grinning.

I roll my eyes. "You want to hear the texts?"

"It's up to you. Not if they're private."

"It was just a casual talk about music."

"Then why are you so red ?" she says, beaming.

I want to tell her I'm not and that she's wrong. Yet I can't because I can feel the heat pushing against my cheeks like so many feelings are about to burst out. It's all so silly. Yet, it's sort of cool to have a crush. Is that what he is, then?

"Okay, listen to this. We're talking about a Vivaldi piece, and he says it's like a stormy night. It has a raw energy. It's untamed."

The word untamed especially made my mind go to all kinds of steamy places.

"That's intense for sure," Emily says, leaning forward. She's looking at me in that familiar, searching way. It's difficult to hide my true feelings from her. "Untamed … Is that a hint?"

I roll my eyes as if I have no idea what she's hinting at. "Huh?"

"Don't play dumb. Maybe he's saying he wants to get untamed with you …"

"Oh, yeah," I mutter sarcastically. "I'm sure that must be it."

"You're attracted to him."

"He's attractive," I mutter. "That's just a fact, but it doesn't mean I'm going to ruin this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity by making a silly move."

It would be another silly move, I should say since I already crossed the line and called him crazy when we were talking about the "he-doesn't-listen-to-music-in-his-car" thing.

"Ruin it?" Emily asks.

"Duh. Let's say I let this crush get out?—"

"Wait … crush ?" She's leaning so far forward on the chair now that it's a miracle she doesn't spill out of it. "I didn't know we'd entered official crush territory."

"Is this the part where you throw a big party because I've finally entered Crushland?" I say, trying to play it off in a jokey way.

"I was starting to think you were asexual," she says in a teasing, loving tone. "Or that you were going to get married to your violin."

"Don't give me any ideas," I say, glancing at the clock. "They're going to be here soon."

"What about the other texts?"

I shrug, handing her my phone. "I think I'm just letting myself get carried away."

"I don't know," Emily says softly, scrolling through the texts. " Like a violin whispering its secrets … Bella, you may have found the rarest kind of man. A big hunk mixed with a poet."

"Maybe that's just how he talks. It doesn't mean it's romantic, right?"

My tone is almost desperate. I need to know there's no chance of anything ever happening between us so I don't get my hopes up. Anyway, I was telling Emily the truth. Risking a high-value client for a crush would be the stupidest decision I could ever make.

Emily has always been good at reading me. I think she does it now as she hands me my phone. "I wouldn't stress about it. We don't know enough to say one way or the other."

"Exactly," I agree, nodding vigorously. "That's just what I was thinking. Okay, I'm going to do some prep for the lesson."

Emily stands. "Is that my cue to make myself scarce?"

I smile as she leaves, but the smile falters when I'm alone. I can tell Emily and myself anything I want. The truth is, I can't stop myself from scrolling to the start of the text conversation and rereading it.

"Your bow pressure is improving," I tell Sofia once the hour ends.

I always enjoy the look of pride on my students' faces, but there's something about Sofia that fills me with even more warmth. "Really?"

"One thousand percent," I say.

When she frowns, she looks even more childlike than usual. It's probably because of how petite she is and how young and innocent her features are.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

"You wouldn't just say that, would you, Bella? Just because …" She sighs. "You know … the fee or whatever …"

"Never," I say, hoping my voice sounds more shocked than angry or pissed because that's what she triggers in me at this suggestion. The idea is offensive. "I'd consider it a disrespect to the craft, Sofia. Seriously. I'd rather be broke than lie to my students. Ever."

It's the truth. I'd find another way to keep my promise to Mom.

Sofia blinks. "Sorry, Bella. You're right."

"It's a fair question," I tell her, softening my voice, "but I promise you, I'll never lie about your performance. I'll never give you a false idea of how good you are, and remember, I'm not an expert. I'm just somebody who spent a long time practicing, that's all. I've still got a long way to go."

She beams, her whole face lighting up. "Okay, great. You really are the best! I'm just going to use the bathroom if that's okay?"

"Sure."

As she leaves, I sense this is her way of avoiding interacting with the money. A moment later, he appears at the door—Mr. Crush. I squeeze my legs together to stop the inappropriate flutter that moves through me.

Matt is wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing muscular forearms that make me want to drool. His eyes have that intense, serious look that makes me want to force a smile from him, a laugh. Or maybe he'll stay like this, smoldering, his attention fixed on me.

"Ready to settle up?" he says.

"Uh, yeah," I murmur.

He reaches into his wallet. "Was that Paganini's ‘Caprice No. 24' I heard?" He counts out the bills from a massive wad of cash.

"You've got a good ear," I murmur.

The corner of his lip twitches, making me feel proud of making him smile. "I'm just trying to be a good big brother."

I stand up as he approaches me. I've never thought about a man's scent before, but I want to press against him and take a deep breath. I seriously need to get a grip. When I take the cash this time, I consciously try not to touch his hand.

"See you soon," he says, turning away.

It feels like a cold, disinterested exit. This isn't bad, considering he's just a client and nothing more. Once they're gone, I quickly put the money in the safe. I'll need to head to the bank soon to make a deposit, but my restaurant shifts and teaching make it difficult.

Earlier, Emily mentioned I should quit the restaurant. I've already earned more from Sofia than I do as a waitress for an entire month, but that would be an incredibly reckless decision. I can't assume this will last forever.