Dancing on a Moonbeam (Bedford Falls Book 1) (8 page)

She bit her lip.

"No." He pointed at her mouth. "I will not allow you to distract me like that. I have a movie score to fix.
How long
?"

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."

He saw himself going back to LA empty handed. He saw his career going up in flames. He saw himself composing jingles for cereal commercials and Axe Body Spray.

He growled, tempted to grab her. Only he was afraid if he touched her he'd kiss her, and he was having enough trouble as it was. So he growled again and he stalked back to Liam's house.

Breathe, my love
, his mom's voice said in his head.
Have some tea
.
 

He opened the tea drawer, his gaze falling on the chamomile tea, which purported to be calming.

The workers next door laughed.

Yeah, that's what he thought too. He slammed the drawer shut and went to find a pair of shoes and his key. He'd go to town.

Except when he went outside, he noticed that his car was blocked in by a delivery truck from a hardware store.

He glared at the house next door, debating whether he should go back to talk to her.
 

Talking was the last thing that was on his mind at the moment. He began to walk. He'd probably be calmer by the time he reached town.

But ten minutes in, he was still seething, so he texted Liam:
Your house sucks.

Despite the time difference, his friend called him seconds later. "What's wrong with the house? It's not working out?"

"It's not really your house, but where it's located," he grumbled, feeling bad at the distress in Liam's voice.

"You don't like Bedford Falls?" his friend asked incredulously. "Are you an alien?"

"I'm talking about your neighbor. Eleanor," he added, trying not to feel the music in her name.

"The cute brunette?"
 

Cute
? Dangerously sexy was more like it. "She's not cute. She's a menace."

"What happened?"

"She has the biggest construction project of the century going on at her place. The noise is unbearable. Today they started practically at pre-dawn."

"I don't think they can do that," Liam said. "There are ordinances for disturbing neighbors. Call the building department and ask them about it."

Max stepped onto the road to avoid a puddle. "Won't that get her in trouble?"

"Maybe, but then the noise will stop. Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes." But he pictured her big hazel eyes when she found out that he'd tattled on her, and he winced.
 

"Max, the worst thing that'll happen is that she'll have to postpone her project a couple weeks. That's nothing," Liam assured him. "You'll get the music composed in peace and then she can resume her remodeling. You're leaving anyway. It's not like you'll ever see her again, right?"

Why did that thought make him want to punch something? "Right."

"So just call the building department. Or, you know what? I'll call them for you," Liam said. "I'll take care of it. Don't worry. It's all good."

"If you say so," Max mumbled, not sure he believed it.

Chapter 11

Eleanor sat on the back step, her dance shoes in her hands, staring alternately between the shed and the Reynolds' house.
 

Yesterday's incident with her next-door neighbor Max had been replaying in her head over and over since it'd happened.
 

It'd done more than just replay—she'd dreamed about it. Except in her dreams, she'd been wearing her ballet slippers with her robe, and Max wore nothing but a smile. His music had been playing in the background, and he'd held her in his arms and they'd danced. He led her lightly, giving her the space to twirl and twirl, freely, not restricting her or getting in her way. When she'd finally stopped spinning, she'd lifted on her toes to kiss him.

She woke up right before their lips had touched.
 

She stared at her dance shoes. Since Robbie had pushed her to remember her love of dancing, the longing for it had been strong. Now, since her dream, she had a longing to dance with someone again. On the dance floor and—if she were going to be honest—in bed too.

But she wasn't ready to be that honest.

Except in admitting that Max had a right to be annoyed by the commotion her work crew was causing. It wasn't her fault Travis and his team had to tear off the roof, but she'd talk to them today to ask that they be quieter if possible. For some reason, it'd really bothered her that Max had been so agitated. She'd wanted to take him in her arms to soothe him.

Not a normal impulse for her.

Nothing to do with how she felt around him was normal.

Once she got her studio going, she'd feel more settled again. She looked down at her ballet shoes. Maybe she'd even put on her shoes and dance too.

She'd probably trip over her feet. She set the shoes on the step next to her, looking up as she heard a car pull up. It was probably Travis.

But the man who came around the back wasn't her contractor. He had a metal clipboard and all sorts of papers in one hand. He wore slacks, a buttoned-up shirt, and a vest, topped off with a very serious expression, which only got more serious when he noticed her. "Are you the owner of this property?"

"Yes." She stood up. "Can I help you?"

"What's your name?" he asked, though his attention had shifted to the shed.

"I'm Eleanor Westwood."
 

"I'm from the building department. I'm here to inspect on a formal complaint that I received on this address. There's a claim that there's a construction project in progress."

"I'm having a little bit of remodeling done," she said carefully. Where was Travis? She glanced at the time. "It's not a construction project."

He strode over to the shed. "Looks like the roof is being replaced."

Joining him, she looked up at where he pointed. "Is that a crime?"

"Yes, if you don't have permits." He held his clipboard straight and jotted something on the top page. "Do you have a contractor?"

"Yes, Travis Scott. He should be here any minute."

"Hmm." The man wandered off toward the shed, examining the doorframe before opening it and peeking inside.

"Excuse me," she called out, hurrying after him. "Since this is my property, maybe I can answer some questions. I'm sure whatever it is can be easily rectified."

"Not if you don't have permits." He jotted something down on his clipboard.
 

She swallowed. "I thought that for small jobs permits aren't necessary."

"Permits are always necessary, as far as I'm concerned," he stated without lifting his head. "And it looks like you're replacing the roof. That's not a small job."

She watched him prowl around her shed, at a loss about what to do. Fortunately Travis arrived a few minutes later, pulling up the driveway with his truck.
 

Eleanor hurried to him. "There's a man from the building department here, saying someone complained about our project."

Travis cursed under his breath as he strode toward the building.
 

They both went inside. Travis walked up to the man, speaking in some sort of building language that made no sense to her.

"I need a translator," she finally said.

They both looked at her. Travis shook his head. "It's all going to be okay. We'll pull the permits and then we'll be able to get the project going again."

She shook her head. "What do you mean, get it going again?"

"You can't do work here without a permit," the man from the building department said.
 

She faced Travis. "But it's not going to take long to get permits, right?"

"It might," the building department man said. "Bedford Falls has a volunteer board, so they may not be in to take care of your violation."
 

How did this happen? She rubbed her forehead, trying to think. "You said someone complained. Who?"

"Amadeus Ravel Massimo." He tore off a sheet from his board and handed it to her. "All the information is there."

"Do you know this guy?" Travis asked her.

Apparently not, because the Amadeus Ravel Massimo who wrote that hauntingly beautiful music wouldn't be such a hard ass. He'd certainly never have her dream shut down.
 

Her hands fisted at her sides, and she glared at the house next door. "That bastard."

"So I guess you have a decent idea of who might have lodged the complaint," Travis said, taking the notice from her. "Not that it matters. Once we get this taken care of, we'll be back in business, and then he won't be able to shut us down."

"There's always a way to shut down a job, if you can even get the permits in the first place," the building department man said sounding gleeful. He tucked his clipboard under his arm. "Nice to meet you. Have a good day."

They watched him leave. Then Travis said, "I'll call the crew to tell them not to come before I go take care of this. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to pull the permits quickly."

"Pretty sure?" she asked, hearing the high pitch in her voice.

"Sometimes in small towns like this, when there's an infraction, they dig their heels in and make it hard to continue with the work."

"Aw hell."
 

He looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Eleanor. I should have insisted that we pull permits. I really didn't think it was going to be an issue. It never has been before."

"It's not your fault." It was Mr. Gumpy Pants's fault, from next door.
 

While she'd been daydreaming about jumping his bones, he'd gone behind her back and done
this
to her. She should have learned with everything that had happened with Charles.
 

Well, she was done trusting the wrong men. And she wasn't going to let Max get away with this without pointing out to him what a fucker he was.

"I'll take care of it, Eleanor. About the costs—"

"It's not going to be expensive, is it?" she asked worriedly.
 

"A little. I don't know what the fines will look like."
 

She groaned.

He patted her shoulder. "I'll see what I can work out. Don't worry. I'll make this right."

"I'm sure you will," she murmured, looking over at the house next door. She returned her attention to Travis and gave him a weak smile. "The pause will give me more time to figure out what color I want to paint the interior."

"There you go." Nodding, he gave her a copy of the stop work order and pulled his phone out of his pocket as he walked back to his truck.

She should have gone inside to make sure Lily was awake and on her way to school, but instead she tromped across the property line to have a discussion with her temporary neighbor. Gripping the complaint in her hand, she went to the front door and rang the doorbell, over and over again, putting all her anger behind each push.

He didn't answer.

So he was a coward in addition to being a bastard. Eyes narrowed, she glared into the front windows. There wasn't any sign of anyone.

His car was here though, so he had to be somewhere. She went around the house, to the back. She stared at the back door, wondering if it were open and if she should go in to find him.

No, he'd probably have her arrested for breaking and entering. Snorting, she turned.

Her eye caught on the path that led to the pond, at the rear of the property. For some reason, she decided to follow it.

Sure enough, he was sitting on a bench back there, a mug in his hand, looking all together too peaceful.

Not for long. She marched over to him, standing in front of him.

He looked up, looking both pleased and wary to see her.

She was
not
going to be distracted by his blue eyes. Hands on her hips, she glared at him. As she opened her mouth, she was horrified that tears filled her eyes. "Oh shit."

"
Oh shit
," he echoed, looking alarmed as he stood. "Are you going to cry?"