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  Jessie cringed and covered her face with her hands. They were long and thin and covered with the remnants of her art projects. Today it was mostly shades of blue. “Oh, Mae, that sounds really ...”

  “Embarrassing? Oh, it was.”

  “I was going to say painful,” she corrected. “Really hot, though, huh?”

  Maelie fell back in her chair. “So hot, like model hot, like if a ghost pepper with amazing green eyes got up and started walking around opening doors into people.”

  Jessie giggled. “What’s he teach?”

  She shrugged. Honestly, she hadn’t been paying all that much attention once she looked into his eyes. “Some mouth instrument. I mean, they’re all the same, right?”

  Jessie stretched out her long legs. Everything about her was angular but perfect, just like her artwork. “I don’t know, I’ve always liked wind players; I like the idea that it might mean they’re good with their mouths in other ways.”

  The thought of Sebastian’s mouth doing other things, sinful things, made Maelie drop the ice pack from her forehead. Suddenly it was all she could think of. “Yeah,” she croaked. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Jessie simply smirked and indicated that Mae needed to put the ice back on her forehead.

  “Welp ...” Flushed from the thoughts that were now urgently lining up in her brain and desperate to end the conversation, Mae pushed her chair back. “I suppose I’ve had enough excitement for one day. I think I’m going to take my ice and go to bed.”

  Jessie eyed her, clearly sorry that she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “You know I’m going to check on you all night, right?”

  “I know.” Mae sighed. “And I love you; thank you for caring.”

  Jessie beamed.

  Maelie wandered into the bathroom to clean her face and brush her teeth and ended up peering at the goose-egg on her forehead. It was pink and tender and looked as if a horn was trying to sprout from her skull. With her luck, she wouldn’t have been all that surprised.

  With a sigh, she finished her nightly routine and padded back to her room where she changed into her pajamas, crawled into her bed, and put Jessie’s ice pack back on her forehead. She sighed as the ice took away a bit of the sting, and as she drifted off, her thoughts turned to the man who had wielded the door.

  Sebastian Adams. Dear Lord. Just the thought of his tattooed forearms and green eyes made her body so hot, the ice felt as if it melted in minutes. She wondered for a brief moment, as she tossed the melted ice pack to the side, if he was even real. She hoped so. And if she was lucky at all, she’d find out tomorrow.

  Sebastian

  Sebastian opened his apartment door to his brother at 6:30 the next morning and promptly shut it in his smiling face.

  Mason knocked again.

  “Go away,” he bit, wiping his hand across his eyes. Less than sixty seconds ago he had been blissfully asleep. If he had to kill Mason to shut him up, he was totally okay with it.

  But true to form, Mason never gave up. He pounded on the door with his big meaty fist until Sebastian was forced to open it. He didn’t need his neighbors angry with him.

  “What?” he roared when he pulled the door open. “What could you possibly want this early in the morning?”

  Mason shrugged. “You said you wanted to start running with me. I figured today was as good a day as any.”

  Sebastian took in his older brother with a scowl. His hulking body was head to toe in matching winter running gear. He looked like a walking Under Armor ad complete with a sporty haircut. The worst part was how goddamn cheerful he seemed to be.

  “It’s February,” Sebastian pointed out helpfully. “Not to mention ten degrees outside.”

  “Oh, come on.” Mason pushed past him. “Winter is the best time to run; your engine stays cool forever.”

  “That’s because it’s frozen,” Sebastian mumbled as his brother made his way to the kitchen and stretched his calves out on the base of the island

  Mason ignored his comment. “Come on, there’s no better time to start than now.”

  “Every hour later than this one is a better time to start, you dumbass,” he growled back. “How does Gabi put up with you in the morning?”

  Mason chuckled. “Oh, she doesn’t, definitely not a morning person. I avoid her at all costs and make up for it in the evening.”

  “Gross,” Sebastian intoned, squeezing his temples. It had taken him far too long to fall asleep the night before, and he had been hoping to make it up this morning.

  “You all right?” Mason straightened up from the toe-touches he had moved on to. His face had switched to a concern that only made Sebastian even more irritated. He hated the way everyone treated him as if he was damaged and needed extra special care.

  “I’m fine. I just need sleep. Your presence is making that difficult.”

  Mason was silent for a beat as if he was waiting for him to expound on his point. “I mean it, how is”—he made a motion with his hand—“everything going?”

  Sebastian took a deep breath to control the irritated outburst that jumped immediately to his mouth. He was working on trying to accept others’ concerns more graciously, as per Phil’s advice. So far it was the hardest thing he had ever done. He shrugged. “Better, I guess. Some days are better than others. Last night was not one of the good ones.”

  Mason came toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. His intense green eyes were full of concern. “If you have another hard night, you know you can ask Dom or I to come over, right? We can hang like old times, just pass the time. Okay?”

  He nodded, admitting internally that that actually sounded like a nice break. Without the band, he had so little to do. So. Very. Little. Sometimes he felt as if the time stretching out in front of him was the most frightening thing he’d ever encountered. “Okay,” he answered, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Mason grinned. “Good, when do you start teaching?”

  He managed to avoid pulling a face. “I have my first student tonight, just one, but the store owner assures me that I’ll have more than I can handle once word gets out.”

  “I’m sure you will.” He gave a devilish grin. “And once the word gets out around the mothers ...”

  Sebastian laughed.

  “Just think of all those hot divorced moms.”

  “Wish I could,” he breathed, turning away to look out the huge plated glass window that wrapped his entire living space. “I’m on a sex hiatus, too, remember?”

  “Oh, shit, yeah, I forgot.” Mason joined him at the window. “That really sucks, man.”

  Sebastian shrugged. “Not sure I’d know what to do with a woman without alcohol in me, to be honest.” That wasn’t to say he didn’t want to try. Phil thought it would be best if he abstained from all things that might make him slip back into drinking. Sex seemed to have a heavy connection.

  He had agreed, but not happily, and not until after a very long and loud argument.

  Mason let out a good-natured laugh and slapped him on the back. It nearly knocked the wind out of him. Goddamned oaf. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, once you’re able.”

  Sebastian gazed out into the drizzly, dark weather and changed the subject. “You’re really going to run in that?”

  “You bet. Like I said, perfect running weather.”

  “You know you’re insane, right?”

  His brother put up his hands as if he couldn’t help it. “At least Gabi finds me irresistible.”

  “Out of her mind,” he joked. Gabi really was the best thing that had ever happened to Mason. She was smart, hot, fun, but whatever it was she saw in Mason would forever escape him.

  “And you’re sure you don’t want to go with me?”

  Sebastian looked at his older brother’s hopeful face and let out a wry laugh. “Not in a million years.”

  Mason shrugged, popped in his earbuds, and zipped up his cold-weather tech jacket. “Your loss. I’m going to get you to go one of these days. Just you wai
t.”

  “Oh, I’ll wait,” Sebastian quipped. “Right here in my warm apartment.”

  Mason pulled him in for a quick, crushing hug and a noogie he could have gone the rest of his life without feeling again. “It was good to see you, little bro, have a good day.”

  “Yeah, you too,” he muttered, trying to put his hair back in place. “Have a good run, you maniac.”

  Chapter 3

  Maelie

  Maelie settled into her studio for lessons that afternoon, acutely aware that the gorgeous man she saw yesterday was going to be occupying the room next to her. She had imagined all sorts of ways she could start a conversation with him but then would remember the door incident and decided it would be better to wait until the lump was completely gone. It was a lot smaller this morning, and Jessie swore it wasn’t even there, but it felt like a unicorn horn.

  Sighing, she opened her violin case, pulled it out, put the shoulder rest on, and tuned it. After she tightened her bow, she warmed up on scales and her favorite Bach Partita before setting out the books, pencils, and stickers she would need for her lessons that day.

  Right at four, a tiny girl with black pigtails burst into the room, her violin swinging wildly at her side. “Miss Mae!” she squealed. “How are you today?”

  The excitement that lived inside this girl always made Mae’s heart soar. This is why she taught. “Hello, Ava. I’m good, how are you today?”

  She found her place next to Mae in front of the stand and put her case down on her left side as she had been taught. “I’m great because today I see you!”

  “Same!” Maelie exclaimed, giving the child the high-five she was waiting for. “I’m so glad you’re here today because I think you’re ready for ‘Twinkle.’”

  Ava’s eyes widened and she did a silly little jump. “‘Twinkle!’ Really?”

  “Really.”

  She punched the air in celebration and then put her hands on her hips. With a serious look she said, “Then we should really get to work.”

  Maelie laughed, tuned the child’s instrument, and got to work teaching her the opening measures of “Twinkle.”

  About halfway through the lesson, the most horrifying sound came from the room next door. Both she and Ava stopped playing and stared at each other, eyes wide.

  “What was that?” the tiny girl’s nose crinkled.

  “I’ve no idea,” Maelie told her.

  “It’s sounded like a cow.”

  She couldn’t deny that. A very sick cow, to be sure.

  When they didn’t hear anything further, they continued until the sound happened again, this time the sound of a dying cow suddenly turned into a sustained note with a lovely vibrato.

  “Oh shi—” She stopped herself before she finished swearing in front of a five-year-old. “I know what that is,” she told Ava. “That is a tenor saxophone.” Oh God, Seb Adams had been so hot when she met him that she hadn’t even considered what it might be like teaching next to a tenor saxophonist when that room had been empty for months.

  Ava scrunched up her face. “Is that some sort of instrument?”

  S“Kind of, but it’s not an important one.”

  And suddenly there was a burst of notes from the room—Jazz scales that rose and fell into solos that were dizzyingly difficult. If she weren’t so annoyed at how loud it was, she would have been impressed by his technical skill.

  Ava had covered her ears, the violin still dangling from one hand, the bow from the other. “I can see why.”

  She laughed and guided the lesson back on track.. “Well, let’s try to play despite the noise.” While she finished with Ava, it took all of her concentration to keep from getting more irritated with the sounds coming from the next room.

  She would have to get used to it, she reasoned. It’s not like he had any real control over how loud the instrument was. She could petition Mr. Hanson for more soundproofing, but she wasn’t sure there would be anything strong enough. She would simply have to learn how to block it out. Jessie could probably teach her some calming breathing techniques.

  But as her students paraded through one after the other, the incessant practicing simply drove her to her limits. Her jaw was at full clench by the time she was halfway done with the evening.

  Didn’t he have any students? Was he just going to practice all day every day at full fucking volume?

  During her half-hour dinner break, she stormed out to her car and ate her salad with petulant stabs of the fork, Charlie’s whining heater barely keeping her warm. Eventually, the silence calmed her down and she reasoned again that it wasn’t his fault. All mouth instruments were loud and utterly annoying. She could deal. She’d dealt fine when the electric guitar teacher had been in that same room the previous year.

  And she did. Until he added a background recording of a combo to practice with that was also impossibly loud.

  “Excuse me,” she told her wide-eyed student as the wall vibrated with jazz rhythms, “I’m going to go see if I can get him to turn that down.”

  It took two steps to get from her door to his, but she had muttered every curse word in existence within that span of time.

  She knocked on the door as hard as possible.

  It took almost a full minute for him to even hear her pounding on the door.

  He finally stopped the recording and pulled open the door with a whoosh.

  Maelie opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of him but the sight of him made her freeze. She had never seen a sexier man. The saxophone was slung around his neck, his sleeves were rolled up to reveal his gorgeous tattoos, and his eyes vibrated with an intense green she didn’t think had ever been discovered in nature before now. All she could think to do was run her fingers across his toned forearms and trace the ink all the way up to his neck.

  “Oh, hey.” His voice was completely cool and relaxed. “I remember you, you’re my neighbor.”

  She swallowed. “Right.”

  “Miss Barre, correct?”

  She forcibly ignored the buzz that shot through her when he remembered her name. “Right. Maelie, actually,” she added stupidly.

  “All right, Maelie Actually, what can I do for you?”

  She swallowed the sinful ideas that swirled through her brain that could have kept a dirty novelist writing for days. She desperately wanted to know where the tattoos ended and ... She shook her head. “Yes, sorry, I was just going to ask you if you could turn down the volume”—she put her fingers up in a pincer motion—“just a teeny bit.”

  He grinned, completely unaware of the effect he was having on her. “Oh, of course, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think about how thin the walls might be. I only have one student so far, so I thought I’d use my time to keep my chops up, you know. Can’t practice at home. The neighbors hate it.”

  She let out a stupid laugh. “Yeah, imagine that.”

  He made a show of turning the volume down on his speakers. “There you go and, again, I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that.” She let out a breath, and then after she stared a beat too long, she pointed to her room. “I’ll just get back to my lesson.”

  He grinned again. “You’re welcome, and have a good night.”

  She didn’t answer, she simply attempted to slink out of the room as smoothly as possible. Just as she was almost out, he added, “I’m glad to see the bump is almost gone.”

  Oh, Jesus. She let out a stupid giggle and shut the door, mortified.

  Sebastian

  Seb walked a little circle around his studio as the time got closer for his first student to arrive. He was desperately nervous. He had never taught before, and he wasn’t sure he could do it.

  For some reason he hadn’t felt the need to prepare, and now he was desperately regretting it. He knew the looks his brother Dom and his wife, Lula, had shared when he said he hadn’t planned anything meant he was in deep shit, but he ignored it. Why didn’t he ask them what to do? They were successful
high school teachers. Of course they would have helped him.

  He had a basic idea of what needed to happen based on the private lessons he had had as a kid, but he hadn’t done any research to find out what the most up-to-date materials were. A massive knot of doubt twisted in his stomach.

  Mr. Hanson knocked on the door to Seb’s studio at exactly 6:30. He was standing proudly next to a young boy who looked to be about nine or ten. He was rail-thin, had a thick head of dark hair, and was carrying a tenor sax case that was wider than he was. “Mr. Adams,” Mr. Hanson said, clearly trying to impress the harried mother following behind, “this is your first student of the day, Jason Potter. Jason is nine and is just starting band.”

  Once the mother spotted Seb, her eyes rounded, and she pushed forward to shake his hand. “Hi, Mr. Adams, I’m Jason’s mother, Laura, Laura Potter. It’s so nice to meet you.” She held onto his hand for a beat too long before she let go and tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. “We’ve heard so much about you. I know it’s late in the school year for him to start, but we just moved up here from Champaign and he wanted to join the band at school.” She took a breath and giggled. “Oh, listen to me, going on and on. Jason can fill you in.”

  Mr. Hanson took her by the arm and gently led her back down the hallway. “Have a good lesson, gentlemen. We’ll be just down the hall if you need anything.”

  Laura Potter giggled again and waved stupidly at him as she rounded the corner, and Seb gave a half-hearted wave back.

  When he looked back down at Jason, the kiddo was staring down the hall after his mom as if she had three heads and had grown a tail. “That was weird.” He looked up at Seb.

  “Oh, right.” He felt a rush of nerves flow through him. “I bet you’d like to have a lesson on that thing.”

  The kid grinned. “Well, that is why I’m here.”

  Seb tried to laugh good-naturedly but it came out panicked instead.

  For the next thirty minutes, he fumbled through showing Jason how to put his instrument together, care for it, disassemble it, and make his very first sounds. He was a mess; he couldn’t think of words quickly or how to break the steps down to beginner-appropriate jargon.