Songbird (Songbird, #1) (52 page)

I
WAS
an idiot. I’d very stupidly decided to tidy up my apartment when I got home from Cole’s. I was too worked up to go to bed, so I’d started cleaning out the drawer and bathroom cupboard that held Riley’s belongings.

Sitting cross-legged on the bedroom floor, I carefully pulled a pair of black jeans, a couple of T-shirts, and some underwear from the drawer. I pulled out a maroon
Jag Jeans
T-shirt that I had seen Riley wear many times, and held it to my face and inhaled. It still smelled like Riley, and the memories came flooding back once again.

He had worn that T-shirt in Fiji when we had relaxed in the bar one afternoon, sipping on exotic cocktails before heading back to the bure for some mind-blowing sex. The tears stung my eyes, and my body ached at the memory of it. He had always been such a considerate, tender lover, and had made me feel totally comfortable to be myself, not self-conscious as I had been in the past. I closed my eyes, and could almost feel his touch caressing my body, his lips lightly grazing my neck as they had done so many times in the past.

I had learnt so much from Riley. I had learnt to believe in myself. I had learnt to trust in my abilities, and to follow my dreams. But my dreams had included him always beside me, and now those dreams were over.

Sniffling, I opened my eyes, then pulled the T-shirt on over my head.

I checked in the wardrobe. At the end of the rail against the wall was my favourite blue shirt, the one that had made Riley’s eyes look impossibly blue. He had worn that shirt when we had gone to the Moroccan restaurant, and again on Christmas Day.

I slid down the wall beside the wardrobe, dropped my head in my hands and sobbed.

Being the glutton for punishment that I was, I went into the bathroom to see what else I could find. I found his disposable razor still on the shelf. It was just a razor, and could have belonged to anyone, really. But I remembered the time I had shaved his gorgeous face after we returned from Fiji, and the steamy sex we‘d had on the chair in the bathroom. I smiled through my tears at the memory. God, I missed that man.

I found the bottle of Riley’s cologne I had bought, and just to rub salt in my already gaping wound, I sprayed it on his pillow. I spent the night cuddling his pillow, and sobbing as more memories of our time together came flooding back.

We had been in bed when Riley had given me my Tiffany & Co bracelet. I still wore that bracelet every day, and would often find myself absentmindedly fingering the charms, in particular the four-leaf clover. I knew I was just torturing myself, but I couldn’t bear to not wear it, just like in the end, I couldn’t bear to dispose of any of his belongings. I put all of Riley’s clothes back into his drawer. I would clean them out some other time.

I needed a makeover. After my night of reminiscing about Riley, and Cole’s comments about me not being a girl, and quite possibly being the only female on the face of the planet who he didn’t want to sleep with, I was feeling like a bit of a troll.

So I knocked on Jason’s door, and waited for my Fairy Godmother to answer.

Jason of course ushered me in, always happy for the company, and the chance for a good gossip. I told him what Cole had said, and it immediately put him on a mission to make me as stunning as humanly possible.

The salon was closed for the evening but we went down there anyway, and Jason went to work highlighting and cutting my hair until I had the female version of bed hair. It was super sexy, even if I do say so myself, and the lighter colour around my face somehow made my pale-blue eyes pop.

I was still freshly waxed, and my eyelashes were still tinted black, but Jason suggested an eyebrow tint in a dark brown. He literally wiped the tint on and a few seconds later wiped it off, but that was all that was needed. The darker colour framed my eyes, and the result was amazing.

“So, what are you going to wear to
Songbirds
tomorrow night?” he asked as we stood in front of my wardrobe. “It has to be super sexy. You know he’ll be there; he always is.”

It was true. Since Cole and I had struck up a friendship, he spent every Monday and Tuesday at the bar listening to me play. And I spent every Saturday there, quite often working while his band played.

Pulling out a couple of options, I tried them on for Jason’s opinion. Out of all the dresses, the black halter-neck dress I had worn for Riley’s birthday dinner was the winner. It was low-cut, but not obscenely so, and fitted but with a flicky, flirty hem at the bottom.

For the
pièce de résistance,
I pulled out my favourite
Jimmy Choo
metallic sky-high sandals. I had always had a weakness for gorgeous shoes; shoes, and sexy lingerie. I had on occasion worn just the two together and nothing else, for Riley.

I went to bed feeling happier than I had in a while. I don’t know why it mattered so much what Cole thought, but what he had said had really put a dint in my already deflated self-esteem. I didn’t want to move on from Riley. If I was being honest, I still wanted Riley back, but a little male attention would do wonders for my confidence.

Jason entered
Songbirds
before me. He wanted to be there to see Cole’s reaction when I arrived. He sat at the bar beside Cole, and then discreetly sent me a text, letting me know that Cole was there and I should come in—now.

I walked in, head held high, and went straight to Marcus to greet him as I always did.

Marcus did a double-take, and raised his eyebrows at me before hugging me. “Wow! You look amazing,” he said appreciatively.

Good. Score one point for the girl who’s “not a girl”.

I looked over in Cole’s direction. His response was less like friendly appreciation. He was undressing me with his eyes, the emerald-green less noticeable with the pupils so huge and black.

I internally stuck out my tongue and blew a raspberry at him—take that!

“Hi Cole,” I greeted him casually. “I wasn’t sure if you would be here tonight.” I was giving him a good look, and he was drinking it all in.

“I wouldn’t miss the show,” he responded, still running his eyes over my body. “Your hair looks great.” Then he turned to Jason. “Is that your handiwork?”

Jason nodded proudly.

“Very nice,” Cole muttered under his breath.

“Thanks … mate,” I said, giving him a “mates” punch on the arm.

His eyes glimmered with realisation. “Is all this for my benefit?” he asked smugly, sweeping his hand up and down to indicate my outfit.

“All what, exactly?” I asked, wide-eyed, playing dumb.

I turned, and started walking over to the piano. I had been taught in deportment classes that a lady should
glide
when she walked. Bugger that; I was giving my hips a good old wiggle. Not a girl, indeed.

I was passing some tables when I felt a hand lightly touch my wrist. “Can we buy you a drink?”

Looking down, I saw two young men dressed in suits and business shirts smiling up at me. Their ties had long been removed, top buttons undone.

I was going to decline—I usually didn’t drink before playing—but I looked back at the bar, and all three of my friends were watching with varying expressions on their faces.

Turning back to the two guys, I flicked my hair flirtatiously. “Actually, I don’t pay for drinks so let me get you one.”

I took note of what they were drinking, and then made my way back over to the bar.

“Two bourbon and colas, and a glass of champagne, please,” I said to Marcus, and then leaned up against the bar beside Cole while I waited.

Marcus poured my drinks with a dimpled smile on his face. “Glad to see you’re making friends, Tara,” he said. “Although I would prefer you let the paying customers order the drinks next time.”

I pulled a face. “Sorry, wasn’t thinking.” I picked up the three drinks awkwardly between my fingers and turned to head back over to the table.

“You’ve made your point, Tara.”

I looked at Cole on my way past, playing dumb once again.

He just shook his head at me. “Yes, you’re hot, yes, you’re as sexy as hell, and yes, you are definitely a girl. Now can you please stop with the flirting, and wiggling your ass when you walk?”

I couldn’t help myself; I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing at his last comment.

“Anything else you would like to say to me?” I asked expectantly.

He rolled his eyes, then pulled me over so I was standing in between his open legs. He brushed my hair off my neck, giving me goose bumps, and leaned in to whisper in my ear, “I would shag you in a heartbeat.”

Ha! Touchdown.

It seemed just when I was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, someone dragged me back.

I had finished playing for the evening, and had miraculously managed to only need to dash to the back room to wipe the tears from my eyes and fix my make-up twice.

I was just getting ready to leave when a young girl approached me. “Sorry to interrupt you, but it’s my anniversary, and I was wondering if you knew ‘A Thousand Years’. It’s kind of our song.”

I nodded. Of course I knew it; it was Riley’s song, too. She gave me an excited quick hug, and then scurried back to her table, and the young man waiting for her.

Looking at Marcus, I groaned, “I can’t play it. Of all the songs she could have asked for …” I dropped my forehead onto the bar.

Cole was sitting at the bar beside me. “What’s wrong?” he asked, not understanding the significance of the song.

I explained that it was Riley’s song, and that I hadn’t been able to bring myself to play it since we had broken up.

He finished his drink in one gulp. “No time like the present to get over Hotshot once and for all. Come on,” he said, taking my hand. “We’ll play it together.”

He walked me over to the piano, and then found one of the guitars that he had left behind the stage. “Ready?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

I took a deep breath in and then exhaled, puffing out my cheeks. “If I have to.”

As soon as I started playing, the tears stung my eyes. I wanted to stop playing, to turn tail and run. But Cole joined in, and I heard him say, in a hushed voice, “Look at me.”

Sniffling, I turned to look at his face. He was watching me, his eyes encouraging me along, and I felt myself relax, taking strength from his support.