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W ound up over what she had learned about Rory and craving a distraction, Kate settled at the piano to practice.

After an hour, she had worked through the entire piece.

Granted, it had sounded atrocious, but she now had a sense of the tune and the rhythm.

Problem was, after playing it all the way through, she’d discovered it was clearly a duet.

Once that realization hit her she had worked through both parts, one after the other, and determined that the easier of the two was for her.

Could she convince her classically trained guest turned rock star to play the other part?

If she practiced, a lot , maybe she could feel confident enough that they could play it together without her feeling self-conscious.

It did thrill her to have this little puzzle piece of history.

She jumped when she heard someone behind her.

When she realized it was Rory, she placed a hand on her pounding heart. “You came back through the tunnel? I thought you went to get your car.”

“I did. You left the back door unlocked.”

“I did not.” She couldn’t have. She was very security conscious.

Rory shrugged, “Well, it was unlocked, and it’s Hazard. Not much to worry about around here.”

“People always say that about small towns.” But Kate knew even small towns had crime.

“And, just because a town is small, that doesn’t mean scary people from the city never travel through.

” An image of her demanding visitor came to mind.

Kate frowned. Had she really been so distracted that she’d left her door unlocked again?

She really needed to pay more attention.

She would soon be responsible for the safety of her guests.

“Hey, that’s coming along. I heard you playing as I came in.” Rory nodded at the music sheets in front of her.

“Slowly. You could play it better.”

Rory shrugged, not denying the truth of her statement. “Which part do you like best?”

Kate frowned, “Of course you already knew it was a duet. I prefer the easier one, naturally.” She set her fingers back on the keys and launched into it.

Rory slid onto the bench beside her, and she was suddenly aware of the warmth of the strong, very male body brushing against her left side.

She struggled to stay focused on playing the piano.

Three measures in when Rory started on the accompaniment, she almost lost her place but managed to keep going and get into the rhythm.

It helped having someone with perfect timing.

They played several measures together. When Kate hit a wrong note, she stopped and shook her head.

“Sorry, I need to practice by myself a lot more, I think, before I’m ready for a duet partner. ”

It sounded like a good life principle to her. She needed to learn the score on her own before joining forces. Still, having a hot, lean keyboardist cozied up next to her on the bench—well, she just wanted to stay there, feeling the heat from his body radiating into her own.

*

Rory took a breath, overly aware of the soft, warm woman on the bench beside him. “Sounded good in the courtyard.”

“Until I hit this section.” She waved her hand at the music in disgust and let out an aggrieved sigh. “It’s been so long since I tried to play the piano, but I used to love it.”

Rory took a moment to recenter himself before setting his hands back on the keys.

He studied the music before him, gave a nod.

Let’s try again. He began to play the alternative line.

Coaxing forth notes from the page, he let himself slide inside the music, and everything around him faded except for the feeling of Kate’s hip pressed against his.

Warmth and energy from her body flowed into his own, giving him the impetus to make music from a page of black marks.

His playing gained momentum, and Kate placed her hands aside his. They played together, the notes entwining in playful phrasing up and back, dancing as in a minuet, beautifully complementing one another.

The parlor around them faded into a sumptuous backdrop, until it was just the two of them making music as one.

When they reached the end, they were both breathing hard, as if they had overexerted themselves at more than playing the piano.

Kate spoke first “That was…”

“…amazing.” He finished the thought.

“But far from perfect.”

Rory turned to face her. They were so close that he could feel her breath. She blinked at him, wide-eyed, then looked down at the keys.

He sought to console her. “We’ll get there.”

“And play it perfectly? I know it’s probably nonsense, but I really want to achieve the success I know it promises. Is that completely silly?”

“No, not silly. Hard work and effort are never silly. Look at what you have accomplished so far.”

“With the music?”

“With the music and the inn.”

“So I shouldn’t give up?” Kate bit her lip.

She looked so unsure of herself in that moment.

It was so unlike how she usually presented herself to the world that he wanted to pull her close, stroke her back, and reassure her.

But that wasn’t his place. He was a guest—sort of—and only staying in Hazard for a short time.

He cleared his throat. “Don’t give up. Not on the inn or the music. ”

“So, music…”

Rory blinked at her. Her words had felt like she was leading somewhere.

“It’s your career.”

“Ah,” he swallowed. “What have you heard?”

Kate looked down at her lap, then back up and straight into his eyes like she’d come to a decision and would not be deterred. “I looked you up. You are not a concert pianist, not by any means.”

Her words were accusing. Rory felt the need to defend. “No, I’m not, but I was classically trained to be one.”

She inched back suddenly and sat straighter. “Why?”

“Why was I trained as a classical pianist?” Unwelcome thoughts of his mother flooded his mind.

She had been encouraging once and then a rigid taskmaster, foisting her discarded dreams onto him.

And then when she found a real concert pianist on which to transfer her affections, she had run off and left her husband and son.

Rory shook his head to clear it and focus on the conversation at hand.

“Why did you give it up?”

“Oh.” Rory wasn’t sure how to answer. No one had ever asked him that.

And he didn’t want to get into the whole unpleasant situation with his mom and her lover and how he hated everything about who she became and who he was and…

ugh, so he kept it simple, evasive, easy.

“It’s not the life I wanted. It has such a limited appeal to the masses. ”

“You wanted fame.” Kate spoke the words with resignation and sighed as if disappointed in him.

It put his back up. Who was this woman to judge him?

He had the right to make his own choices.

They barely knew each other. He was helping her.

So why, then, did her opinion matter so much to him?

Why did he feel as if he had let her down personally and had somehow let himself down?

He hated this feeling. In that instant, he blurted out a truth he had never really acknowledged as the reason for so many of his decisions.

“I wanted to write my own songs.”

“Oh?” When Kate looked up and blinked at him, he could have fallen right into those dark brown eyes and made a home there. The surprise on her face encouraged him to elaborate.

He began speaking from his heart, even as the words drew him closer to her.

“Composing…I love it! The tunes, they dance through my head all the time. Well, usually, anyway. Lately they haven’t come so easily, but sometimes inspiration comes at the strangest moments, like…

” He fell silent, unsure how to express what he was feeling.

“Like?” Kate prompted.

“Now,” he finished. “They come at the strangest times, like now.” He let out a shuddering breath.

“Now like now .” It was a litany frolicking through his brain.

Rory turned to the piano and played the tune forming in his head from earlier.

It flowed effortlessly, coming from his brain, down his arm, the fingers on his right hand picking out the melody on the keys, the harmony flowing down into his left hand.

He knew when Kate slid away on the bench.

He knew when she eased a black pen and blank paper in front of him.

He kept playing, snatching up the pen to begin scribbling out the notes, first with his left hand as he worked out the melody and then with his right while he worked out the harmony.

It was dark when he came back to the room from the creative realm where he had lost himself for the last couple of hours.

He’d been humming the song, making up words in his head.

What he didn’t know was if it was any good.

That knowledge came later. Some songs came easy.

Others needed dedicated revision, and yet others he scraped altogether piecemeal over time, a snatch from here or there, bits that had been popping into his head over many months, sometimes years.

But this song had come together all at once, clear and urgent and melodic.

A ballad, inspired by the inn, but mostly by the innkeeper.

Or as he had heard her murmur under his breath, The Innkeeper with a capitalI.

He wouldn’t know until the next day or the next week where this song would fall on a scale of one to ten, from lousy to fantastic.

The songs always felt wonderful during those first moments of creation, but didn’t necessarily hold up in the light of scrutiny, when the details were so carefully listened to by the discriminating ear.

Rory stood and stretched and felt his back pop.

He shook himself out a little, stretching his fingers and cracking his neck muscles.

He had been at it for a long time. With a glance back at his work, he stroked the wood on the piano and went in search of his innkeeper.

He found Kate in the kitchen, polishing the handles on her cabinetry.

“I didn’t mean to chase you away from your own piano.”

“You didn’t. I needed a break, and I have other work to do.” She set her brass cleaning aside to wash her hands.

Rory nodded. “Can I take you to dinner at the diner?”

Kate glanced at him, surprised. “Really, you don’t need to do that.”

“If I needed to do it, it wouldn’t be fun.” He grinned. “Come on, I’ve heard they have new Mexican specials.”

“In Hazard? Seriously?”

“Crazy, isn’t it? Let’s live dangerously.”

“I’d love that. Thank you.”

*

Kate stepped out into the hall with Rory and glanced at the stairs just in time to see the cat’s shadow on the wall. But there was no cat on the stairs. Had she imagined it? She put a hand on his arm. “Did you see that?”

Rory was shrugging into the jacket he had hung on the coat tree earlier. He turned.

Kate pointed up at the landing. “The cat on the stairs.”

“Just now?” He shook his head. “No, but I do think I know how kitty is getting around. I think it travels through the walls.”

“The walls? Inside the walls?” Kate gave a backward glance at the stairs. She was certain she’d seen a shadow, and this time was certain there had been nothing on the stairs to cast it.