The Pianist Plays It Slow - A Slow-Burn Summer Rockstar Romance (West Coast Soulmates #1)

Chapter One

Mike

When Mom called to ask me to give Brian a bed because his job transferred him to L.A., I didn’t think about saying no. We’d been friendly enough at holiday dinners and were adults now. I’d show him around, he’d get an apartment, and we could hang out when our schedules lined up. How bad could two weeks be?

By the time I left for the first weekend of Coachella, I wanted to kill him.

My brother was still the same spoiled brat he’d been as a kid.

Slob.

Man-whore.

Leech.

And eating all my food.

I’d never been so grateful to get out of town.

When you grow up one half of identical twins, you’re never alone from the moment the egg splits. Brian was my first best friend. Mom dressed us alike until we started screwing with our teachers. No one could tell us apart until we started developing our own identities, and we liked it that way for a long time, but Brian was everyone’s favorite.

You’ve heard of those studies that found twins that grew up apart were more alike than twins that were raised together? Totally true.

He was my opposite inside in every way.

High school was the tipping point, though.

Our parents had always spoiled him a little more and he liked it, but I didn’t know how much until our teens. We both needed glasses, but Brian chose contacts because he cared about being popular. I didn’t, especially after seeing what all that attention and pressure did to my brother. Unlike the other kids into tech, he had charisma, confidence, and good looks. Student body president, prom king…whatever he wanted came easily, including girls.

He lost his virginity at sixteen.

I didn’t.

Senior year was his worst, though.

See, despite running in different circles up to that point, we’d always been brothers.

Twins.

Knew each other better than anyone.

But I didn’t recognize him anymore. His ego barely fit in a room, he was a total douchebag to anyone he didn’t consider on his level, and our parents were oblivious to it. It rankled, but I could ignore him—big school and all that—until I got my first girlfriend.

Then Brian wanted what I had, and he always got what he wanted.

He got the girl and I had my first heartbreak.

I moved after graduation, getting into USC’s School of Music while he stayed close to home. It was the first time in my life that no one cared I was Brian Jorgensen’s brother.

Found my tribe, developed my musical niche, and made contacts that eventually led me to now. Being part of one of the biggest acts of the last decade.

We missed Coachella last year on account of our singer’s new kid, and hadn’t done much since Jake and Beth married. She got pregnant on the honeymoon, turning our leader into an overprotective limpet glued to her side.

Then Bob moved to Malibu.

Dylan met a girl at Christmas.

Aaron, I loved like a brother, but he still acted like a kid when we weren’t anymore.

As usual when we played the festival, we had a house for the week, but I was the only one using it much. The party scene wasn’t my jam, so I swam laps, worked out harmonies on my rollup keyboard, and tried my best to block out the noise of loud sex. Bob and Celeste and Dylan and Jen were in their bedrooms and Aaron was off banging his latest favorite groupie

Jake was at home with Beth and the baby.

For a while, I wondered if we were drifting apart and the band would survive, but plenty of acts took time off. The problem was I didn’t know what to do with my alone time. Unlike Jake, I didn’t have a high school best friend ex-girlfriend to reconnect with, nor was I likely to get snowed in on Christmas Eve like Dylan and Jen.

Where do you meet a great girl when you’re famous and prefer a quiet home life?

Chapter Two

Hannah

April

Choose to be the new girl in town at your peril.

I get now why Mom never lived farther than twenty minutes from the house she was born in. Looking around my empty living room, the balloons in the corners mocked my solitude. The food on the kitchen table sat untouched, a chocolate cake still pristine in the center.

Someone knocked on the front door.

Thank God.

I checked my watch and opened the door. Marcy! Fifteen minutes late, but at least someone showed up.

She shoved a present into my hands. Hi, Hannah, sorry I can’t stay, but I wanted to give you this so you wouldn’t think I forgot. She smiled, ran back down the driveway to her Honda, and zipped away, waving through the window.

Wow.

Even my new best friend—rethinking that title now—couldn’t stay for my birthday.

Hannah, she’s your only friend here.

I placed the small gift on the table and put the food back in the refrigerator. Didn’t want to poison anyone, should they ever show up. Hadn’t invited a lot of people—there weren’t many I knew well enough yet to let into my home—but I’d put out a decent spread.

There was even alcohol, and I didn’t drink.

After another half-hour, I gave up and turned the lights out in the living room, then cut a piece of cake for myself and stuck one candle in it.

Happy friggin’ birthday to me.

Making a half-hearted wish in my head for some improvement to the night, I blew the candle out. My dress went back in the closet in favor of a long-sleeve tee and sweatpants, then I signed into my e-mail on the off-chance my co-workers made excuses.

Nothing but a couple ads and a request for a file from work even though everybody knew I had the day off. Joy.

Then it hit me, the message that was missing today—Dad’s.

Tears blurred my vision.

Two months after his death, I’d been doing okay. Not a hint of tears for two weeks. We weren’t close and conversations were usually awkward at best, but he always remembered my birthday. We saw each other two, maybe three times a year.

It shouldn’t be that big a deal, dangit.

We weren’t close.

I’d even spent adolescent years hating him!

Yet these stupid tears were smudging my mascara.

Funny how I’d come to rely on a short little e-mail every year.

I sniffed and reached for a tissue.

So, Hannah…friendless, parentless…what are you gonna do now? I turned on the bathroom faucet. I’m going to wash my face and eat cake until I puke.

Good plan, huh?

Skin squeaky clean, I blindly reached for a towel and dried my face, then felt along the counter for my glasses.

The girl in the mirror wore a frown.

I sighed.

The doorbell chimed, an hour after the party should have started.

Padding to the door in bare feet, I switched the porch light on and unlocked the deadbolt. The most gorgeous man stood on the other side of the screen. Sun-kissed skin, brown eyes that crinkled at the corners…yowza.

He was so my type.

Even with a blazer hiding his torso, I could tell he was probably built nice, too.

Nice shoulders.

If he smelled good and it was any other day, I’d be a goner.

Can I help you?

He scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish grin on his face. I think I’m lost.

Where are you trying to go?

Lemon Street? But this doesn’t look like the neighborhood described…

That explained it. "This is Lemon Avenue. Lemon Street is on the other side of town." Learned that the hard way when I was first looking for my house.

Damn. Handsome Stranger checked his watch. I’ll never get there in time. Um, this’ll probably sound like a ploy, but can I use your phone? Mine died.

Sure. Wait a minute.

I shut the door and went in search of the cordless. Yes, I still keep a landline. Peeking around the front curtain, I saw him sitting on the porch step.

I pushed the phone through the hole in the screen door for my mail slot. Here you go.

Thanks. I didn’t listen to his call. Mr. Gorgeous tapped on the door a minute later and handed the phone back. Thanks again. I’m kinda glad I got lost.

Oh? That was a weird thing to say.

Yeah. I was supposed to go to this work-related party.

Ahhh…and you’re not crazy about your co-workers?

He grimaced. New job.

Only in my current position for three months, I could so relate to that. Don’t you hate it when they try to be your new best friend so you don’t feel like the oddball?

He nodded. "Except the extra attention is like a blinking arrow above your head. Totally. I’m Brian, by the way."

Hannah.

That’s nice. Different.

Blushing, I ducked my head. My great-grandmother’s middle name. I used to think it was too old-fashioned.

And now?

I shrugged. I’m kind of old-fashioned.

He smiled, nodding along. You grew into it.

"Yeah… Exactly. Do…do you like cake?"

His smile broadened, and would’ve been blinding in sunlight. "I love cake." Must’ve had a great orthodontist as a kid.

Taking a breath, I pushed the screen door open. It was a risk, certainly, but my intuition wasn’t screaming to run away from him. His brows rose in surprise, but he stepped inside.

I left the front door open. Have a seat.

You sure?

Yeah. I gestured to the sofa. It’s old, but comfy.

What are you doing, what are you DOING?

NOT being alone on my birthday.

But what if he’s a serial killer or something?

Then, at least I had some awesome eye candy before I died!

I shut off the worrier inside and cut a piece of cake, serving it on my baby-blue china instead of a paper plate.

He was sitting on the sofa when I came back, looking at the balloons. Yours? he asked.

Yeah.

Happy birthday. Get anything cool? He tried a bite of chocolate. This is really good.

Thanks. And nope. Well, I haven’t opened that gift over there, but probably not.

Waiting to be a good hostess, I stood in the open space between rooms.

His eyes shifted to the one small present on the table behind me. Was your party today?

Supposed to be. Didn’t know why I was being so honest with a stranger, but who else was I gonna talk to?

His expression turned sympathetic, a beautiful look on him. A bust, huh?

I sighed. Pretty much. I’m kind of new here, too, and my new best friend played gift fairy and bailed before I could say thanks. I have more food if you’re hungry.

You don’t have to wait on me. We just met.

He was too nice.

I sat in the armchair across from him, the coffee table between us. It wasn’t in my nature or upbringing to sit when I had a guest, but I felt he’d be offended if I didn’t.

Should I watch him eat?

Look elsewhere?

Restless energy made my knee bounce.

I wanted to pop all those stupid balloons with scissors, or maybe the butcher knife.

Glare at them a little harder and they may explode.

Huh?

An amused grin was on his face. The balloons. You look ready to do serious damage.

My cheeks grew warm again. Oh. I guess I was thinking that.

Do it.

What?

If it’ll make you feel better, pop them. I think a little destruction is good for the soul.

I narrowed my eyes at him. Are you some kind of devil sent to tempt me?

He laughed. It was a contagious sound and made me smile on reflex. Would you like me to be?

Whoa…dangerous question. I forgot my cake, I said, and escaped to my bedroom. If I stuffed my face, I couldn’t blurt out something stupid before my brain stopped my mouth.

Get a grip.

He smiled when I came back. Okay. Back to those balloons—pop them, or let them sink?

I’m not popping the Mylar one.

The grin turned sly. That mean you’ll do the rest?

What is your obsession with my balloons? I teased. It felt good to smile.

He reached in his pocket, then tossed me his keys. One of those tiny Swiss Army pocket knives was on the ring. Dare you to use it. I pulled the tools out of their pockets. It had a file, the blade, and tiny scissors. The file tip was pointy enough.

Was it wasteful to pop balloons I bought mere hours ago?

I stared at the tool a long time.

Too long.

Brian gently took it from my hand and folded the file away. My eyes flicked up to his face at the contact. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, he said softly.

"I should want to. It’s been a crappy day."

Besides the party that wasn’t?

I nodded. Telling him about Dad was too personal.

How can I help, Hannah? He crouched in front of me.

Why do you want to?

Sucker for a damsel in distress?

Looking into his big dark eyes, I believed he wanted to, but it was still confusing. And this close, he did smell amazing. His cologne or soap was intoxicating. Well, I wished for a better night, and I could think of far worse things than spending time in his company.

You already have, I said. It’s nicer not being alone.

He smiled. Yes it is. Maybe my getting lost was fate.

Sent to me by the universe, huh?

Could be. Have to confess—I like glasses on girls.

Now you’re teasing me.

I’m serious! Scout’s honor. He rolled forward on his knees so we were eye-to-eye. I’ll prove it. And delicately brushed his lips against mine.

Kissing him back, I wrapped my arms around him to pull him closer. He deepened it and nothing else seemed to exist. I’d wanted solace for months and never thought I’d find it in another person. Never in a kiss.

I pulled away only when I needed to breathe.

I didn’t expect you to kiss me back, he said, leaning his forehead on mine.

Well, you’re hot, and you smell really good.

He laughed, further warming my insides. Thank you. Chocolate suits you.

I taste yummy?

I’m sure you do.

I slapped his shoulder. "Bad."

You created the opening, Hannah. I couldn’t let it pass. He caressed my cheek with the backs of his fingers. You’re pretty when you smile.

It felt so good to be touched, even in a way so innocent. He turned his hand over; I leaned into his palm. It’s not the first time today.

Only the second I’ve seen. When you opened the door, it was obvious you were hoping for someone else.

I don’t now. Casual friends who couldn’t care to show up, or a hot stranger that’d just given me the most amazing kiss—no contest.

He grinned. Lucky me.

He leaned in to touch lips again. I gladly met him halfway.

Every kiss chipped away at the sad and lonely girl within me. Therapy through kissing—love it. I leaned into him until he lost his balance, falling backward with me on top.

He looked so surprised to be on his back, I laughed.

Hey, my head could’ve hit the coffee table.

I brushed noses and kissed his pout. Sorry.

Getting to my feet, I offered him a hand up. Hands clasped, bodies close together, eyes locked…I felt magnetized, incapable of pulling away from him. He slid his arm around my waist and pressed me closer. My theory about his physique was correct, firm muscles twitching beneath my hand. I relaxed in his arms, realizing I hadn’t been held in too long to remember.

He felt the change in mood and tightened the embrace. Hey, you okay?

Yeah…I forgot how nice it is to get a hug.

He tilted my face up. Been a long time?

I shrugged. Long enough.

I’m sorry.