“Okay, you win,” he said, with a deep chuckle. “What do you want to hear?”
“Anything. Everything. For sure play some Chopin and Bach. They’re my favorites.”
“Chopin and Bach? Such opposites.”
A glance over her shoulder showed his forehead knotted in a thoughtful frown.
“I like Chopin because it’s got so much feeling in it. And I like Bach because it fits together like a puzzle.”
“True. Bach is like math for music. How do you feel about Rachmaninoff?”
“Love it, but I can’t play it.” She held up a hand and wiggled her fingers. “My hands are too small.”
“True. I’ve got the reach for it. Guess I’ll go play for my dinner.”
He wandered out of the kitchen and moments later, the most beautiful strains of a Chopin etude rang out, the hardwood floors carrying the sound into the kitchen. So flawless was the execution, she tiptoed to the living room doorway to be certain it wasn’t a recording. She could only see his back, but even so, his body projected the intense emotion of the song. With a sigh of contentment, she went back to her work.
“I think I owe him the best chicken enchiladas of his life.”
“Best enchiladas ever,” he declared, as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. Her pleased smile was like a reward.
“It’s because I had the most inspiring music to work by.”
“Now where’s that pie you mentioned?” His mouth was already watering at the thought. “What kind is it?”
“It’s a chocolate pecan pie, but I can’t believe you have room for dessert after all the enchiladas you ate.”
He patted his flat stomach. “If this body has given me one blessing, it’s the ability to eat as much as I want without getting fat. Though I haven’t exercised in five days, and I can already feel the difference.”
“Not me. I can just look at food and gain weight.”
“You look good to me.” The words rolled off his tongue before he could stop them, and she ducked her chin.
That sounded like flirting. You’re supposed to be buddies, remember?
Fortunately, Laurie lightened the mood. “Thanks. You’re not too bad either… for an old guy.”
“An old guy?”
She stood and began to gather the dishes from the table. “I’m only twenty-eight. You’re in your thirties, right? That makes you old, as far as I’m concerned.” Her mouth twitched at the corners.
“I’m only five years older than you.” He
picked up two serving dishes and followed her into the kitchen.
“Five years can be a lifetime. That’s how long it’s been since…” Her voice trailed off.
“Since what? What were you going to say?”
“Since I graduated from college.”
He sensed this wasn’t the event she was originally referring to, but he didn’t push. In a short time, the dishes were done and leftovers put away.
“I should be going. I’ll leave the pie here for you.” She tucked a stray curly strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze aimed at the floor by her feet. “You need to get your rest.”
She was right. It was already late, and he hadn’t started his nighttime CF routine. Yet he wasn’t ready for her to go.
“We should go over a few work details first,” he said, thinking he could talk her into pie afterwards. “Let me grab my laptop and we’ll sit on the couch.”