Ninja At First Sight (17 page)

And my parents and his parents still belonged to the same country club.

“How’s Grace’s science fair project coming along?”

I pulled on my gloves and bobbed my head back and forth. “So-so. She convinced the kids to taste the PTC strip, but can’t get them to eat the broccoli.” Grace was trying to determine how many of the children in her second grade class were ‘super tasters’, meaning more sensitive to certain foods than the rest of the population.

“Well, let me know if you need any help.”

“I appreciate the offer.”

“I’m not being altruistic.” His dark eyebrows lifted high on his forehead, a display of pointed sincerity. “I’d do almost anything for another of your roast chicken dinners.”

My grin widened. “Then why don’t you come over and help Grace with her science fair project on Saturday? I was planning to make roast chicken anyway.”

Matt nodded before I’d finished making the offer. “I accept,” he blurted as the elevator dinged, as though marking his acceptance rather than our arrival to the lobby. We both laughed and filed out, parting ways at the entrance to the building after another few minutes of small talk.

Despite the distraction of nerdy and nice Professor Simmons, I was soon stewing in my discontent again. I stewed as I catalogued all the inhabitants of the train, making note of threat likelihood, the location of exit points, and potential weapons. One man near the end of the train was holding an umbrella tucked under his arm; this was odd because it was snowing, not raining.

I kept my eyes on him when the train stopped—still stewing in my earlier frustration—and watched him as we both departed. When we exited the train station, he opened the umbrella and turned left. Apparently he didn’t want any snowflakes to fall on his waterproof nylon jacket.

Delores Day’s Dance Studio was on the third floor of a mixed use brownstone, and I arrived on time. Several mothers, fathers, and nannies—all of which I recognized—were crowded around the door between the practice room and the waiting area. Kids, mostly little girls in tight buns, pink leotards, and stockings, skipped out of the classroom to their caregivers.

I nodded and smiled, chit chatted with the gathered parents about nothing in particular, and craned my neck for a glimpse of my munchkins. When they didn’t appear after a few minutes, I excused myself from the circle of adults wrangling their own children and poked my head into the classroom door. Grace was sitting on the floor trying to tie her snow boots and waved at me immediately; but Jack was sitting on a bench in front of a piano, his back was to me, and he appeared to be in deep conversation with their ballet teacher. Miss Delores Day was eighty at least and in better shape than most thirty year-olds I knew. She was also sassier than most thirty year-olds I knew.

I let the door close behind me and I crossed the room, the sound of my footsteps drawing Delores and Jack’s attention. The older woman gave me a broad smile and glided to meet me halfway across the room with the grace of a life-long dancer.

“Mrs. Archer.”

“Please, call me Fiona.” I waved away the formality, my attention moving between Jack and his teacher. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yes! Everything is excellent. Jack was filling in for Mrs. St. Claire again, he is such a dear boy. A disinterested dancer, but a dear boy.”

“Filling in?” I frowned at Delores then looked to Jack for a clue; he wasn’t looking at me, his dark eyes were affixed to the keys of the instrument and I noted his cheeks were red. “Doesn’t Mrs. St. Claire provide the piano accompaniment?”

“That’s right. He has a real gift, though he’s a bit rusty on the
Dance of the Four Swans
. More practicing at home should straighten all that out. Now, I do want to talk to you about-”

“Wait, hold on.” I held my hands up to keep her from continuing. “I think one of us is confused. Jack doesn’t play the piano. He doesn’t play any instruments.”

Delores squinted at me, as though she didn’t understand my words. “What was that, dear?”

“Jack doesn’t play the piano.”

“Yes he does.”

“No he doesn’t.”

“Well then he does a good job of pretending to play Tchaikovsky.”

“Wha- what?” Why was it suddenly hot in the dance studio?

I turned my confused frown to my son and found him watching me with a gaze too much like Greg’s. His face was angelic, but his eyes held a hint of devilry and guilt.

“Jack?” I appealed to him. “What’s this all about?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been messing around a little.” I didn’t miss how his fingers stroked the white keys of the piano with affection.

“Messing around?” Delores and I asked in unison.

“My dear boy, one does not mess around with Tchaikovsky’s
Swan Lake
.” Delores straightened her spine and sniffed in his direction, as though he’d offended her.

“When? Where?” My head was swimming and I needed to lean against something sturdy. I walked to the upright piano and placed a hand on it.

He shrugged again. “Here. At school. At Professor Simmons’.”

“Have you been getting piano lessons? At school?”

“No. But Ms. Pastizo lets me in the chorus room during lunch.”

“Ms. Pastizo lets you in the chorus room…?” I repeated. I was so confused. Jack was only eight, never had a music lesson, never—to my knowledge—displayed any interest in music or taking lessons. I glanced between him and the instrument. “Play something, please.”

He swallowed, his gaze wide and watchful… and wary. “I still want to play soccer.”

“What?”

“If I have to choose between music and soccer, I want to play soccer.” Jack crossed his arms over his chest.

“I promised you, you can play soccer this spring and I will keep my promise.” My gaze flickered to Delores, who was now watching us with dawning comprehension.

“He’s never had a lesson.” She made this statement to the room rather than to any one of its inhabitants, and with no small amount of wonder and awe.

Her wonder and awe made me nervous. “Jack, play Tchaikovsky. Play the Dance of the Six Ducks.”

“
The Dance of the Four Swans
.” Delores provided gently, coming to stand next to me.

“Yes. That one.” I knew nothing about Tchaikovsky’s music other than what I heard on the local NPR classical radio station. I couldn’t believe my young son was capable of playing chopsticks, let alone anything so complicated.

Jack narrowed his eyes with protest, so I narrowed mine with warning. My mom-glare must’ve been sufficiently threatening, because he sighed loudly and placed his hands on the keys. He gave one more dramatic sigh before his eyes lost focus and he began playing.

And
ohmydearGodinheaven
, my son was playing the Jig of the Even Numbered Birds by Tchaikovsky. And he was playing it well. Remarkably well. Without sheet music. My jaw dropped and I covered my open mouth with shaking fingers.

“Oh my God.”

Delores’s hand closed over my shoulder and I turned my gaze to hers. She was smiling at me, a knowing smile, an elated smile. And it terrified me.

“He’s never had a lesson?”

I shook my head.

“Then you know what this means.”

I shook my head again—faster this time—not because I didn’t know what his spontaneous piano playing meant, but because I didn’t want her to say it.

“How lovely,” she said, obviously not understanding the ramifications of her next words, “Jack is a prodigy.”

~End sneak peek~

Happily Ever Ninja
releases January 19, 2016

Knitting in the City Series

(Contemporary Romantic Comedy)

Neanderthal Seeks Human: A Smart Romance
(#1)

Neanderthal Marries Human: A Smarter Romance
(#1.5)

Friends without Benefits: An Unrequited Romance
(#2)

Love Hacked: A Reluctant Romance
(#3)

Beauty and the Mustache: A Philosophical Romance
(#4)

Happily Ever Ninja: A Married Romance
(#5, January 19, 2016)

Dating-
ish: A Scientific Romance
(#6 – TBD 2016)

Book #7 – TBD 2017

Winston Brother Series

(Contemporary Romantic Comedy, spinoff of
Beauty and the Mustache
)

Truth or Beard
(#1)

Grin and Beard It
(#2, coming 2016)

Beard Science
(#3, coming 2017)

Book #4 – TBD 2017

Book #5 – TBD 2018

Book #6 – TBD 2018

Hypothesis Series

(New Adult Romantic Comedy)

The Elements of Chemistry
: ATTRACTION, HEAT, and CAPTURE
(#1)

Book #2 – TBD 2017

Book #3 – TBD 2018

Irish Players (Rugby) Series – by L.H. Cosway and Penny Reid

(Contemporary Sports Romance)

The Hooker and the Hermit (#1)

The Pixie and the Player (#2, coming March 2016)

Book #3 – TBD 2017