Play Mine (Brooklyn Dawn #3) - Cari Quinn Page 0,11
just as many questions as Lila and Noah probably had.
I knew she’d sneak in and play during the quiet sometimes. But slipping into a rehearsal room at odd hours was different than middle of the night visits to a closed club.
I’d just figured her desire to get as much time on the piano as possible was a quirk of being the new girl in the band. She always wanted to make sure she knew the songs and practiced more than anyone I knew. But I didn’t know she was still lurking around our venues before gigs—especially now when things were so twisted.
Between the new directives from the Ripper camp and all the drama that seemed to follow us around, it seemed crazy that she’d take such a chance.
Not that I knew what she was thinking half the time. Getting a straight answer out of her about things in her past was like getting Jamie out of a guitar shop when we were on the road.
I glanced over at Teagan as traffic came to a standstill. Her feathery lashes fluttered against her cheeks as her lids twitched. Then she moaned and curled toward me in her seat.
“Teag?”
“No.” She mumbled a few more nonsensical words and suddenly snapped her eyes open. She stared at me, her pupils still blown wide with sleep.
Quickly, I checked the traffic situation. We weren’t moving, so I shifted toward her. “Hey. You’re okay.”
She frowned and pushed her hands into her hair. All her curls tumbled free as her intricate girl twist unraveled. “Sorry. I must have been dreaming.”
“Tell me about it.”
She shook her head. “I can’t remember.”
“Right.”
She sat up straighter. “How long was I out?”
“Thirty minutes maybe.”
“Really?” She scooped up her hair and tied it up again. “Sorry. Not a very good passenger.”
“It’s been a day.”
“Yeah.” She glanced at her phone. “Looks like some of the band has heard about my stupidity and the fire.”
“Texts?”
“Yeah. Even Jamie.”
“They’re worried about you.”
“I guess.” She shoved her phone back into her pocket without replying to anyone.
“You’re not going to tell them you’re okay?”
“They were just being kind.”
“I wish you’d quit with that shit. You’re not the new girl anymore. You’re part of us.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that after today.”
“What were you doing there anyway?”
“I told you. I just wanted to play.” Impatience laced her tone. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Middle of the night seems like the perfect time to get your practice on.”
“It is, for me. I like the silence. It’s really not any big thing.” She jutted out her chin before shutting her eyes. “Or it wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t wigged the hell out and caused a chain reaction of chaos.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“I did, genius. Remember? I showed up in your fancy lobby and nearly got tossed out as riff-raff before you came down.”
“Not then,” I said impatiently. “When you wanted to play.”
“Do you have a piano?”
“Actually, I do.”
She twisted to face me. “What?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Just an old upright I found in a little music shop. They were going to throw it out. Seemed like a waste. Lindsey’s piano dude fixed it up and I put it in my music room.”
“Do you play?”
“Nah. Thought maybe you could play it one day.”
Her shock cleared the last of the fatigue from her eyes. “Me?”
“Sure.”
“Why would you buy it for me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
She tipped her head forward as if she couldn’t hold it up any longer. A few curls sprang free to flirt with her cheeks. “Not sure I deserve you, Cooper Dallas.”
I gave her a quick smile she couldn’t see with her head angled downward. “Sure you do. And now that I know you cook…”
She laughed. “I can cook. I didn’t say I was good at it. I’m more of a baker.”
“I like cookies.”
“Who doesn’t like cookies?”
“Only crazy people.” I shifted gears as the traffic finally started rolling again. “You know who else is crazy? Someone who prefers to play on a stage rig rather than their own probably sweet setup at home.”
“Yeah, except I’m renovating and don’t have access to mine right now. But I actually just put a down payment on a piano. My first big purchase since I joined the band.”
“How big?”
She nibbled her lower lip. “Pretty significant.”
“And you gave me shit about my place.”
“A piano is a lot different than a million dollar penthouse.”
Bit more than a million, but I wasn’t going to correct her. “Is that why you’re renovating?”