Playing the Maestro Read Online Free PDF

drinks.
    “Go for it.”
    Carly sipped the salt rim of her peach-colored margarita and turned around to the French horn player sitting on the other side of her and started up a conversation.
    Sipping the frothy part of her drink, Melody studied a knife carving scratched in the bar. Jack + Julie foreva. She traced the letters with her fingernail. Two people frozen in a moment in time. Were they still together? Out there somewhere stargazing, on a cruise, or raising a family?
    Gosh, I’m such a hopeless romantic. She couldn’t help but imagine her name there. Whose name would be scrawled with hers?
    “A Heineken lover, eh?”
    Melody froze, her fingernail still in the curl of the F . She’d know that accent anywhere. Taking a deep breath, she turned around.
    Wolfgang Braun stood in front of her wearing a snug-fitting T-shirt that hugged his biceps, loose-fitting, low-rise jeans, and loafers. Fittingly, he looked like he could have stepped out of a Heineken commercial.
    He gestured beside her. “Is this seat taken?”
    Melody glanced around. The entire room was brimming with people. In fact, the only open seat was next to her. She couldn’t turn him down—it would be like throwing him on the street.
    “Sure. I mean, no, it’s not taken.”
    Wolf settled in beside her and her entire body tingled as if struck like a tuning fork. His arm brushed hers as he gestured for the bartender. “I’ll have what she’s having.”
    Melody’s cheeks started burning, and she sipped her drink to cover her reaction. What was he doing sitting next to her when he didn’t even give her the time of day in rehearsal?
    Because it was the last seat open, dummy.
    “Any suggestions on the menu?” Wolf opened their plastic brochure and flipped to the burger section.
    Melody shrugged, trying to find something, anything to say. “I haven’t eaten yet.”
    “Good. We can order something together.”
    Together? She almost spit out her beer. Was this some type of peace offering for having given her the cold shoulder?
    Carly poked her arm and Melody whirled around. “My, my. Got a drinking partner, eh?”
    “Shut up,” Melody hissed. “Think of something to say so I don’t have to talk to him.”
    Her friend smirked. “Sorry, I’m drawing a blank.”
    Carly having nothing to say was like pigs flying in a blue-mooned sky. Melody gave her friend the meanest look she could conjure and turned back to make sure Wolf hadn’t overheard their bickering.
    He pointed to a platter with sweet potato fries, chicken fingers, and nachos. “What do you think of this?”
    Her stomach rumbled again despite the tense situation. Melody could always eat, and those sweet potato fries looked pretty scrumptious. “Sure.”
    “Great.” He folded the menu before she could see the price. The bartender was busy helping the brass section with second drinks, so he waved a waitress down.
    “We’ll have the trio platter.”
    The young, curvy woman placed a strand of bleached, white-blond hair behind her ear and looked him up and down. She smiled so widely Melody thought her lips would split open. “Absolutely. Right away.”
    After she jotted his order down on her notepad, the waitress gave Melody an I-can’t-believe-he-picked-you look and swung her hips as she walked away.
    Melody scratched her forehead to hide her sour face and turned back around to the bar. If only she knew how much he disliked me.
    Now was the time to come clean, to lay all her cards on the table if she was ever going to keep her job. “Listen, Mr. Braun—”
    He held his hand up to silence her. “Call me Wolf.”
    “All right. Wolf.” The nickname definitely sounded better and fit him more. Otherwise, she felt like she was in music history class. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: born 1756, died 1791. Melody took a deep breath. “I know we didn’t get off to a perfect start.”
    He looked at her as though he’d randomly forgotten how to speak English. “Oh, that? I’d completely