Page 6 of My Best Friend's Dad

“Why don’t you play something?”

“No way! I couldn’t do that,” I reply.

“Why not?” The real question is, why does the action of him lifting his brow like that make him so farging irresistible? “Management won’t mind.”

“I just couldn’t. It’s…that’s a special instrument. It’s far too beautiful to be touched by the likes of…of…plebs like me.”

He throws back his head and laughs like he’s trying to dismantle the ceiling. The sound rolls through me like that first taste of something sweet and forbidden. When he’s done, he brushes his eyes.

“Believe me, you can’t hurt it. That thing would survive earthquakes and zombies. Probably both if they happened simultaneously.”

“Oh goodness. Not the zombie earthquake.”

His grin makes my panties even wetter. Maybe that should be on the list of natural disasters. Panty tsunamis. “Volcano eruption and dragons,” he adds.

“Ghouls, ghosts, and an ice age.”

“Please.” He finishes the last of his drink. “It’s dead in here. No one is going to know. As you said, it’s one of a kind. You’ll probably never get another chance.” A crack must appear in my resolve, and he goes for the kill. “I happen to know it’s freshly tuned.”

Gah. This guy really knows how to talk dirty.

I extend my hands, cracking my fingers and shaking them out. It’s been a shit night so far. Bad things come in threes, so I should be done as long as my phone dying when I truly needed it counts.

I know if I don’t play that piano, it’s literally going to haunt me. I’ll spend forever wishing I had.

I slide off the stool before I can talk myself out of it. “Alright, but if you call the cops on me for touching it, I’m going to kill you.”

He leans his elbow on the bar, balancing in the world’s ungodliest, sexy pose. “I’m sure homicide is a much worse crime than a little piano tickling.”

Doublegah. I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that.

I walk across the quiet, dark lounge to the piano of my dreams. The bench isn’t anything special, but the second I set my fingers on the keys, the slightly cool surface so smooth against my fingertips, I know I’m a goner.

“Wait.”

“Ahhhh!” I leap up and spin around, half expecting the piano police to be right behind me, ready to haul my ass for even daring to sully such a gorgeous work of art.

“Sorry!” He puts his hands up in an innocentdon’t jump out of your skin, we’re all goodgesture. “I just thought…I…don’t know your name. And I wanted to.”

It’s cute how he hesitates and starts again, almost as though he’s nervous too. It brings him crashing down from his god status in my brain to something near a regular human level.

“Bellatrix.” Yeah, I probably should have made something up, but I’m not a good liar, and knowing me, I’d probably pick something like Brunhilda or Patrick Pantigon Partridgenificant The Third.

“Bellatrix,” he repeats, rolling my name over his tongue. Of course, he makes it sound as magical as the word itself implies. He motions to the piano. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Please. Sit down. I’ll control any further outbursts.”

I arrange myself back on the bench. Immediately, I’m lost to the world.

Almost.

I should have asked him his name, but I can’t do that now.Maybe after.

I don’t forget that he’s there watching me. I mean, my lady boner certainly doesn’t, but I lose my self-consciousness.

In a single lifetime, I’m pretty sure we only get one magical experience, and that’s if we’re lucky. I’m going to enjoy the shit out of mine.

How did the worst night of my life just turn into one of the best?

Chapter three