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Day turned to evening, and darkness fell around me like a warm blanket as I sat outside on the deck. It was too hot and stuffy to think of working indoors. My neighbors were quiet, and I searched for them in the darkness, seeing them again on the sand, barbecue glowing at their feet. Faint strains of soft guitar music hung in the air, and I moved forward to lean on the rail, to listen more closely. I didn’t recognize the song, but the gentle melody fit my unsettled mood perfectly.
A shadowy figure peeled away from the group and headed toward my cottage. I stood perfectly still, not wanting to be seen watching them. Was it Jonah? No, I caught a glimpse of blonde hair where the light spilled from my windows. Kari.
“Excuse me,” she called. “We wondered if you’d like to join us? We’ve cooked way too much.”
My first thought was to retreat, to politely refuse. Even after ten years of living in New Zealand, I still behaved like an English woman. Curiosity battled with anxiety and won this round. “Thank you,” I smiled, even though she probably couldn’t see it. “Let me bring some wine.” I knew I had some in the fridge, chilling for later.
“Wine? Cool, thanks.” I expected her to leave, but she waited while I grabbed a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and a stack of plastic cups. She gave me a beaming smile. “I’m Kari.”
I know. Surely Jonah had told them my name? Maybe not. “I’m Cass.”
She tilted her head to one side. “Is that short for something?”
“Cassandra.” My ignorant ex calls me Sandra and I hate it.
“Wow, that’s pretty. Come and meet the others.”
Who would be the guitarist? I wasn’t surprised to find it was Jonah; his intensity reminded me of my lovely musician so many years ago. He cradled a battered and scuffed acoustic guitar and teased another haunting tune out of the strings. Kari busied herself with the introductions. “Greg, Rich, Layla, and Jonah.” They greeted me in turn, friendly hellos and little hand waves. All except Jonah. He hugged his instrument closer and hunched over the strings, ignoring me. I stared at him a moment longer, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“I’ve, uh, brought wine. Thanks for inviting me.”
Greg sprawled on his back, and when Kari dropped to sit beside him, I settled down as well and opened the wine, then offered it round. They were surprisingly enthusiastic and accepted eagerly, all except Jonah again. He shook his head briefly and concentrated on his playing. I felt snubbed. He’d sought me out earlier and now wouldn’t even make eye contact. Was it a dare? A bet? Indignation welled up inside me, and my chest tightened. I’d finish my drink and make an excuse to leave. Kari offered me a tray of grilled sausages on sticks, and I shook my head, not quite trusting myself to speak.
“My turn,” announced Layla.
“Naw,” Greg’s voice was a lazy rumble from beside me. “Let our guest choose next. What d’ya fancy, Cass?”
“Choose what?” Some weird drinking game?
“A song.” Layla jerked her thumb at Jonah. “He can play almost anything.”
Of course, my mind went blank. Everyone stared at me, expectant. Time dragged out until I blurted the first name I could think of, a band I knew Dylan loved. “Pearl Jam?”
Jonah met my anxious stare with one of his tiny smiles and then ducked his head, fingers already sliding across the strings. I recognized the song, even though I couldn’t name it.
“Good choice,” drawled Greg. I glanced at him, anxious in case he was making fun of me, but I was wrong. He tugged Kari onto his lap and nuzzled the back of her neck, humming along, slightly off key.
Jonah played song after song until his fingers must surely have been aching, but he never complained. Never spoke. He took the occasional swig of water, but that was all. I was entranced. He played with a skill that made me wonder if he was a professional musician, one hand flying up and down the guitar neck, the other dancing across the strings. I could have watched him all night.
Pearl Jam seemed a popular choice, but he didn’t falter no matter what was requested. He even managed a classical piano piece by Erik Satie, and I felt compelled to applaud. I must have embarrassed him because he stopped playing and walked away, leaving the guitar lying on the sand.
Silence fell, and I covered my discomfort by examining my now-empty wineglass. “Is he okay?” I asked nobody in particular.
“Yeah,” murmured Rich. “He’s just an antisocial bastard. You caught him on a good day.”
“Rich.” Greg’s sleepy rumble held a warning note that I couldn’t interpret. It felt like my cue to leave.
My cottage was only a few yards away, but I walked carefully across the sand, wary of tripping in the darkness. I kept thinking about Jonah. Had I upset him? I made it to my steps without incident and climbed up to the deck, turning to look out at the sea, the tide far out. A new moon hung in the sky in a narrow sliver of light, and if I looked carefully, the reflection gleamed in the flat, shallow water.
“Cass.” Jonah’s voice startled me from my thoughts. I spun around to see him sitting on the deck, leaning against the kitchen wall, long legs stretched out. I froze. I felt like a Victorian maiden accosted in her bedroom.
“Wh...what are you doing here?”
He held out a fist in reply and slowly opened his fingers to show me something. I leaned closer, peering at his hand. A large, flat disc—a sand dollar—lay on his palm, and it was huge compared to the ones from earlier. I was transfixed.
“Thank you.” I took the offered shell and examined it as best I could in the dim light. He scrambled to his feet and stood watching me, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Was he just shy? I made a split-second decision. “You played beautifully. Did I say something to offend you?”
I expected him to duck his head, but he shrugged instead, his gaze intent on my face. “Is Cass short for Cassiopeia?” His delicious, gruff voice teased at me, awakening parts that had been asleep too long.
“Cassandra.” I thought for a moment. “Cassiopeia, the constellation, isn’t visible here in New Zealand.”
His lips quirked in a now-familiar half smile. “ No. It’s beautiful, though. Like you.”
How could I respond? My cheeks heated at his words. “I don’t know what to say,” I murmured. He can’t mean it. It’s just a line.
Even so, I didn’t want to tell him to leave. The idea of stealing a few forbidden moments with this quiet, young man was intoxicating. I fell back into housewife mode. “Would you like a drink?”
“Water, please.” Still holding the sand dollar, I went into the kitchen to fetch his drink. I half expected him to follow me, but he didn’t. Pouring myself some more wine was too tempting to resist, and besides, it would make the conversation flow easier, for me at least.
“Here you are.” He took the glass, thanked me, and sat again. “Would you like to come in?”
“You can see the stars from here.” I followed his gaze. Myriad glowing sparkles lit the sky, too many to ever identify.
Throwing caution to the winds, I dropped to sit on the deck a few feet away. I took a generous slug of wine before I spoke. “The night sky never fails to take my breath away. It’s completely different from where I used to live in England.”
“Have you been here long? In New Zealand?”
I wondered again why he’d ignored me earlier but wanted to talk now. I replied carefully. “Just over ten years. I married a Kiwi who wanted to take me home with him.” Jonah cocked his head at me in an unspoken question. “He traded me in for a younger model. We’re divorced now.” It was almost true. The papers wouldn’t be finalized for a few months, but the marriage had been over for years.
“I’m sorry.” Jonah sounded as though he meant it, and I shrugged, keen to shake off the dismal mood that had fallen.
“Don’t be, I’m glad now.” I took a deep breath. Dare I say it? “If I was still married, I wouldn’t be sitting here now.”
“Any children?”
“One, a son. Dylan.” My minuscule, beachside romance was about to be snuffed out before it had even started. “He’s about your age.”
Jonah snorted into his glass. “I’m twenty-four. You don’t look old enough.”
I smiled into my wine. “Thanks. I’m still ten years older than you. I had Dylan when I was sixteen, and I met Colin, my ex, later. You remind me of Dylan’s real father. He was a guitarist, too.” Why was I prattling on? Scare him away Cass, why don’t you?
Jonah stared into his glass. “I’m not, anymore.” His voice was so low, I struggled to hear him. “I’m not anything now.” He took a deep breath and pushed himself to a standing position. “I should go.”
There was something I had to know, and the wine had made me bold enough to ask. “Why did you ignore me tonight? I didn’t mean to intrude. Your friends invited me.”
He stared down at me, his dark eyes burning into my soul. Slowly, carefully, he placed the empty glass on the table and then reached out a hand to me. Surprised, I let him pull me to my feet. His grip was warm and sure, but he let go when I stood before him. I felt a flicker of uncertainty. He opened his mouth as though to speak and then paused. “I couldn’t focus.” The words were slow and measured. “I wanted this instead.”
His hand lifted to slide into my hair, pushing back a stray lock and tucking it behind my ear. The breath caught in my throat. Spellbound, I searched his face, seeing the same intensity I glimpsed earlier. Fingertips trailed down my cheek before he traced my lips.
“Soft,” he whispered. I was lost. Time stopped. There was just Jonah and me, with the moon and the stars behind his head and his voice in my heart.