No Strings Attached Read Online Free PDF Page A

getting in. He must've been as nervous as I was, and if not, he was pretty close. Even with steady hands, I couldn't help noticing the hint of nerves as he drummed on the steering wheel.
    “More music?” I teased, trying to follow the beat with my own fingers as I tapped my nails on the dashboard.
    He forced a smile and turned on the ignition. “I guess you could say that.”
    He got quiet then, but I didn't press him. As he pulled out of the parking space and into traffic, I got to watch the streetlights as they illuminated his face to show the hint of a five o'clock shadow and the weariness in his eyes.
    “You look tired,” I said once he stopped at a light.
    “Staying up to compose does that to me.”
    “You aren't the only one.”
    He reached over to squeeze my hand. “I hope my request didn't keep you up too late.”
    “And tell me, what does Thayre Underwood consider late these days?”
    “Depends on you. So, did I keep you up?”
    “Only until one.”
    “Pfft, you wuss. I haven't slept in close to thirty-two hours. Dozed maybe, but not slept.”
    “Ouch. I hope that wasn't my fault.”
    He looked over at me, and while it was shortly after dusk, I couldn't mistake the dark circles under his eyes. “Not entirely, no. At first, maybe, but I have a piece I need to finish by the end of the month so we can have it ready for Webster Hall in August.”
    “The Webster Hall? As in the one in New York?”
    “The very same.”
    I stared out my passenger side window, not sure what to say. Compared to Thayre conducting an orchestra and freaking playing at Webster Hall, my waitressing gig seemed so unimportant. A part of me wondered if I'd have been in a similar situation if I hadn't given up my schooling or got involved with my ex—a man who made me give up my music for three fucking years.
    “That's amazing, Thayre.”
    “You don't sound happy.”
    “No, I am, it's just, compared to—”
    “Moyra, do you remember what Mr. Tolis said?”
    “Our old instructor?” I glanced at him.
    “Life isn't a competition. Someone will always reach the finish line before you, but you'll only get there yourself by going at your own pace.”
    “And staying up for thirty-two hours straight is your pace?”
    “I wish. No. I'm in a rut right now. Our first violinist had another offer she had to take. I don't blame her in the least, and I'm happy for her, but you won't believe how hard it is to find a decent violinist in this region, let alone Pennsylvania. And locally? Forget it.”
    I nodded. In fact, I'd been the first violinist at our school as well as one of our local youth groups, but I knew I was nowhere near ready to play in front of other people. Three-year sabbatical or not, I still wouldn't have been half as qualified as anyone else.
    “So you're staying up to fill the part yourself?” I asked.
    “If I have to, yes. But I'm really hoping it won't come to that. The crew is used to the way I conduct, and while we could probably play without a conductor, I'd feel a lot better if we had one anyway, and every conductor works differently. So what one may think sounds perfect, the other might want to tweak.”
    I opened my mouth to say something, but then stopped once I realized we'd turned in the opposite direction of his house. “We aren't going to your place?”
    “We will, but I haven't really eaten yet today—or most of yesterday. Bad habit, I know. In any case, I figured we could get a bite. You hungry?”
    “I could eat, but don't go to Kimber's.”
    He frowned. “I hadn't considered it, actually. You have a bad experience there or something?”
    “Yeah. I work there.”
    He groaned. “Manager's an ass.”
    “Try working for him sometime. He isn't nearly as unpleasant to the customers as he is to his staff.”
    “Why stay?”
    “Like it or not, the wages are somewhat decent. That, and getting into one of the other, higher paying restaurants in town is close to impossible.”
    “Have you tried