Beck and Call (Pianos and Promises #2) Read online

  Pianos & Promises

  Beck & Call

  a novella

  Jennifer Peel

  Copyright © 2016 by Jennifer Peel

  All rights reserved.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader or share it through the Kindle lending feature. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy through Amazon Kindle. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  To my fans,

  thank you for making this incredible journey possible.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek

  About the Author

  Prologue

  There is always that one guy. You know, the one you know you would never meet, yet you admired and fantasized about him from afar. In your head, you made up a hundred different scenarios about how you would meet. Everything from the cheesy scene of him running into your cart at the grocery store and falling in love in the frozen food section, to the romantic vision of him seeing you across a candlelit room. He walks toward you with wanting in his eyes. Ha, that sounded cheesy, too.

  What I really wanted was for him to notice me while he was walking his beautiful Siberian husky. I thought he might have waved at me once, while I drove past him. I seriously obsessed about that possibility for three days. I even tried my best to walk my sweet mutt, Toby, during some of the same times I’d noticed him walking his dog, but I hadn’t run into him yet. Not that I was sure what I would do if I did, but I just wanted an up-close view of him.

  From what I’d noticed, he was tall; I would say at least six-foot-two. And heavenly, like a vision of an angel. He had rich dark hair on his head and face. His short beard outlined his strong jaw. At least I think it did. I had only seen him from a distance. More than anything, I wanted to get close enough to see what the color of his eyes were and confirm my observations of him.

  But maybe it was better if I never talked to him. What if he had terrible teeth, or horrible breath? Or the IQ of a brick? But he looked smart and confident. I wouldn’t say he strutted, but he walked with command. And his purebred dog said he had money, so he couldn’t be too dumb. And I knew everyone that lived in our little, but older, middle-class neighborhood. He probably lived in the much more expensive new development near ours, which again said he had money. Not that money and intelligence went hand in hand, but it couldn’t hurt.

  I sighed and threw myself back on my bed. It didn’t matter who the mystery man really was. If he was everything I assumed, he wouldn’t want to be with someone like me anyway. And I was sure, as fine as he was, he already had a girlfriend, or maybe a wife.

  On that depressing note, my phone rang. I recognized the ringtone of my best friend. I reached down and grabbed it out of my bag. “Speak to me, Jillian.”

  She laughed. “I’m glad I caught you.”

  “I’m taking a five-minute breather before I head to Bangers.” It felt like I practically lived at the piano bar I bartended at several nights a week. And I performed there whenever I could.

  “You work too much.”

  “Someone has to pay the bills.”

  “Maybe . . . you should consider selling the house?”

  I closed my eyes and blew out a huge breath. “I can’t do that to Noah. All of his friends live here and I can’t afford another place in this school district, even if I sold the house. Besides, when I do, that money will be used to send Noah to college.”

  “You’re a good sister.”

  “I’m all he has.”

  “That’s part of the reason I’m calling. I overheard one of my patients talking to his friend. His friend is looking for someone a couple of hours each weekday to take care of his dog and do light housework. I told him I might know someone who would be interested. So, are you?”

  I could hear the hesitation in her voice. I knew she wanted me to say no, but I needed the extra money. I sat up and ran my fingers through my dark, naturally curly hair that had a mind of its own. “That would be terrific. I could squeeze that in between my job at the gym and Bangers.” I taught kick-boxing and had a few personal training clients. I was trying to get more, which is why I needed the extra job—to fill in the gaps.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I haven’t been sure about anything since Momma died, but I do what I have to do.”

  “I hope Noah appreciates everything you do for him.”

  I laughed. “He’s a fifteen-year-old boy being raised by his bossy and sometimes moody twenty-seven-year-old sister. I don’t think appreciation is the word for it.”

  “Someday it will get better.”

  “We all eventually die, I hear.”

  “You have a morbid sense of humor, Call.”

  “Anyone who grew up with the first name Edith in the last century has to. How else could I deal with life?” I would never understand my parents’ reasoning for naming me after some long-dead aunt who hadn’t even done anything spectacular with her life. And they hadn’t had the decency to give us some fabulous last name I could go by, either. Call was okay, but I always had to explain that it was my last name. It garnered weird stares, but really? Edith? I loved my parents, but they must have been high on something when I was born.

  She laughed at me again. “Well, anyway, I’ll send you Charles Beckett’s information. He’s my patient’s friend.”

  “Charles Beckett, huh? Sounds snobby.”

  “My patient is a nice guy, so hopefully he will be, too.”

  “Ooo. How nice is he?”

  “Happily married nice.”

  “Bummer.”

  “I’m not ready to be in a relationship again.”

  “I know,” I commiserated with her. She was barely out of her divorce and newly back into her job as a physical therapist.

  “Someday we will both find Mr. Right, right?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I suppose. I better go. I need to make sure Noah has finished his homework before I do my best to intoxicate people.”

  “With alcohol, or your voice?”

  “Hopefully some of both tonight.”

  “Okay, let me know how it turns out with Charles Beckett.”

  “You know I will.”

  Chapter One

  Of all the days to be running late, this was the worst possible one. Why couldn’t anything in my life goes as planned? Hopefully, my new potential employer was a fan of women in workout attire and untamed hair. I hoped he didn’t think I was using my body to convince him. I definitely wasn’t. I hadn’t planned on showing off my figure in form-fitting spandex. At least I had a t-shirt to throw over my tight-fitting tank top. I had brought something nice to change into at the gym, but my eleven o’clock appointment, Mr. Hagar, had been late. He had major influence at the gym, and I was hoping he would throw more clients my way, so I had no choice but to take him. To top it off, the man could talk. I appreciated a man in his la
te sixties staying in shape, but he was obviously lonely and needed someone to communicate with. I normally loved listening to stories about his late wife and his cat, Whiskers, who apparently could say a few human words. I wasn’t sure I believed that, but I went with it. Today, though, it was terrible timing.

  I had only communicated with Charles Beckett by email, so I didn’t have the slightest gauge on his personality. All I knew was he said we could meet during his lunch hour at 1:00 p.m. and it was already 1:05. I had sent him my résumé already, which probably didn’t look all that impressive. The only real jobs I’d had were at the gym, bartending, and waiting tables. No one cared anymore that I had come in second place in the Nashville Has Talent show. My fifteen minutes of fame was cut short by Momma’s illness. It didn’t matter that once upon a time I had record companies courting me left and right, or that I got to rub shoulders with country music legends.

  I shook it out of my head and looked out at the clear November Nashville sky and tried to remember to be grateful for what I had. No use dwelling on the past. Momma always said, “Each day there is always something you can be thankful for.” At least it isn’t raining, I thought; and Daddy’s old truck started.

  I pulled up to Charles Beckett’s home at a quarter past the hour. Fifteen minutes late, I cringed. I threw on a layer of pink sheer lipstick and checked my unruly hair in the rearview mirror one more time. It was as untamed as ever. My azure eyes screamed anxiousness, so I took several deep breaths. I reminded myself it wasn’t the end of the world if I didn’t get the job, but unfortunately, in my head, I was already counting on the extra money. It wouldn’t hurt with the holidays coming up.

  I got out of the truck and it hit me how nice the house was. Coincidentally, it was the development near my own neighborhood. I had never really taken the time to drive through it. There was really no reason to. I didn’t know anyone who lived there, and I was never going to afford the price tag that came with the cottage homes. I still didn’t know how half a million dollars and “cottage” fit together.

  I jogged up the paved walkway to his covered porch and knocked promptly on the door. It was the only prompt thing I had left to do. I couldn’t believe I was late. I looked down at my attire while listening to his dog bark and his footsteps as he approached the door. I looked like an idiot. My skin-tight black spandex leggings and hot pink tee with my gym’s logo on it were not first impression worthy. They showed that I had some nice curves and that I worked out, but that wasn’t what I was going for.

  The closer his footsteps sounded, the more nervous I became. I wasn’t sure why. I used to sing in front of thousands of people, but back then, it was for fun. Even now, when I performed, it was a release, so there was no need to be nervous. This was anything but fun and games. This was real life—my life, and Noah’s.

  “Behave, Sasha,” I heard before he opened the door. If I wasn’t mistaken, I detected a British accent. Interesting.

  I took one more deep breath before the door opened. It probably wasn’t the best thing to do. It made it that much more awkward when I loudly blew it out in conjunction with an audible gasp. It was him. The him of my unrealistic fantasies, like the one I’d had of him that morning where he’d asked whether I wanted cream or sugar in my coffee and I’d replied, “I’ll give you some sugar.” Then we’d ended up in a rapturous kiss against the wall in my kitchen.

  I covered my mouth as red skin exploded all over my body.

  He, on the other hand, didn’t look pleased at all. Seriously fine, but not happy. He cocked his handsome head and arched an eyebrow. “Ms. E. Call, I presume?”

  I tried my best to compose myself through my ever increasing heart rate. And I was gaping at him. I had to shake it off. He looked like James Bond standing there in his custom-made dark suit. He looked like fire and I was feeling the heat. “Please, call me Call,” I stuttered. Every time I said that, I knew how stupid it sounded up front.

  His scrutiny continued. He frowned and narrowed his gorgeous green eyes. I knew his eyes would be beautiful, even if they were looking at me in disdain. “What does the E stand for?”

  I don’t know why, but his British accent had me biting my lip and wringing my hands. “Edith.” It totally came out in a high-pitched screech. I laughed with a dash of maniacal in there. “I mean, who names their kid Edith, right?”

  He folded his arms, “My mum’s name is Edith.”

  Seriously? I should have walked away at that point, but no. I swallowed my ever-living pride and did my best not to smack my forehead. “It’s a lovely name.” If you’re a hundred and ten.

  He sneered at my lie. Thank goodness his dog stepped in. She left her owner’s side and decided to check me out.

  I knelt down and she kissed my cheek. I rubbed her face. “She’s beautiful.”

  “Come here, Sasha.”

  She obediently went back to her owner.

  I braved it, and looked him in the eyes. “I’m so sorry I’m late. My last appointment showed up a half hour after his scheduled time. I’m normally a big believer in punctuality.”

  His clenched jaw said he didn’t believe me. It didn’t help when he scanned me and grimaced. “Is this what you normally wear to interviews?”

  “Listen,” I sighed. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. This is obviously not my day. Good luck finding someone.” I turned to go.

  I had made it to the porch steps when I heard, “If you leave now, it will be a complete waste.”

  He didn’t sound exactly inviting, but I turned around anyway. Whoa, I had to stop myself from accosting him. Hell, he was gorgeous. The put-out look only made him sexier.

  “We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” I tried to make light of it.

  He wasn’t biting. He only swung the door open more. His home was decorated in a vintage style with earth tones. I was drawn to his old record cabinet right off. I wondered if he liked music or if it was purely for show, but I didn’t get the chance to ask.

  He pointed at his tufted ivory couch. “Have a seat.”

  I tried my best not to swoon over the accent or his beautifulness. His unwelcoming demeanor helped.

  “Thank you.” I sat down and Sasha made her way to me. She rested her head on my lap and I scratched her while her owner took the chair across from me.

  He pulled up my résumé on his laptop, which sat on his wood and metal coffee table. His downturned mouth said he was less than impressed with it. “So, you’re a personal trainer and a bartender? Seems a bit counterintuitive.”

  The judgement in his voice lit a fire in me. I sat up as straight as I could on the uncomfortable couch. It was stiff, just like him. “I don’t do them at the same time.”

  He moved right past my slight. “Tell me about your education. I don’t see anything listed here but certifications.”

  I tilted my head. “Aren’t you looking for someone to watch your dog and do light housekeeping?”

  His eyes left his computer and met mine. “Yes, but since you will have access to my home, I’m trying to get to know what kind of a person you are.”

  Oh, I got it. I should have walked out then, but no, I let what he said get under my skin and I opened my big mouth. “If you’re basing this position on education, I’m sure you will be disappointed. But don’t worry, maybe you can look up some of your old classmates at your alma mater—Oxford? Cambridge? I’m sure they would be clamoring for this position.” Those sounded like snooty enough colleges for him.

  His posture stiffened more, if that were possible. “It was Oxford, then Duke.”

  “My mistake.” I smirked.

  Why he didn’t end it there, I had no idea.

  He flexed his fingers and narrowed his eyes. “What are your qualifications then?”

  I leaned forward and did my best to match his tit with my tat. “Besides being a responsible employee, as you can see by my employer references, I own my own home and a dog. Both are in great shape.” So I inherited the house, but he didn’t nee
d to know that.

  He arched his eyebrow. That news obviously surprised him. “Are you married?”

  I was so ticked he would think that was the only way I could own a home. “Um, in the good ole U.S. of A. you aren’t allowed to ask that question in the hiring process.”

  He cleared his throat and tugged on his collar. “Of course,” he conceded with vehemence.

  I had done my best to make him angry and he had ruined my fantasy. I wished I had never met him in person. It was time to go. I looked down at his loveable Sasha and stared into her beautiful ice blue eyes. “I hope he finds you someone good.” I stood up and looked down at Mr. I-have-a-stick-up-my-butt’s face. “Jolly good day to you, or whatever you say across the pond.”

  His jaw dropped, but he didn’t say a word.

  “Don’t bother getting up. I’m at least smart enough to see myself out. Pip, pip, cheerio.” I thought I’d heard that on Mary Poppins. I walked out with my head held high. I hoped I never saw Mr. Charles Beckett again. And if I did, I was running him over with my truck.

  Chapter Two

  Jillian called while I was teaching kick-boxing and I returned her message as soon as I caught my breath. I’d had a lot of anger to vent. With every kick or punch, I had pictured Charles Beckett’s face.

  “How did it go?” she asked right off.

  I slid down against the hallway wall at the gym. “Let’s just say he was a bloody jerk.”

  She laughed. “Bloody?”

  “He’s British.”

  “Nice.”

  “No, not nice. He is the exact opposite of nice.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “That’s not even the worst of it. He’s the guy.”

  “What guy?”

  “You know, the guy I told you about, the one I wanted to father my children.”

  She giggled. “The guy you see walking his dog?”

  “Yes! It was him and he was horrible. I’ve never met someone so full of himself, and that’s saying a lot considering I know your ex-husband.” Danny had won the Nashville Has Talent contest the year I came in second place. We all used to be good pals, that was, until he started cheating on my best friend and doing drugs. He let fame and fortune go to his head, and in the process, lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.