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Jessica remained quiet for longer than Emma expected. Then she let out a soft breath. “Okay. Just promise me you’ll tell me if anything changes.”
“I promise,” Emma murmured. She hung up and tossed the phone to the grass at her feet. Rachel wasn’t a bad person. She simply had a way of making things happen. It was one of the reasons that Emma had hired her in the first place. Emma didn’t regret making that decision—at least not until this moment. She didn’t know how to rein in her manager. Rachel wouldn’t go so far as to do something that could get her fired, but she was also one of the best debaters out there. She’d be able to spin the story to her benefit.
In reality, she probably had a plan for getting the tour back on track as soon as Emma came out of the woodwork. That was one of the biggest reasons that Emma refused to let Rachel manipulate her into returning. Emma’s mental health was more important right now. She couldn’t afford to have a mental break while on tour. If Rachel couldn’t see that, then she was blind.
Emma lowered herself down beside the tree and retrieved the guitar. She took a deep breath and released it as she plucked out a few of the notes. The music inundated her senses as she continued to play and let it take her away from her troubles.
Over and over again, she played the song that sang her to sleep.
“It’s beautiful.”
She gasped and spun around to find Caleb standing a few feet from her. Emma didn’t know how long he’d been standing there. It could have been an hour for all she knew. Her face flushed and heat crept down her neck to her bosom. Emma watched him, waiting for him to say something else that might indicate if he’d eavesdropped on more than just the song she played.
He motioned toward the guitar. “Did you bring it with you all the way from LA?”
Emma glanced at the guitar and shook her head. “No. I found it upstairs in one of the bedrooms.”
Caleb lifted his head with understanding. “Then it’s probably Roman’s.”
Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “Do you think he’ll be mad?”
10
Caleb
Caleb chuckled. “Roman?Mad? I think he’d be more upset that he didn’t get to see a beautiful woman play his guitar.” He froze, realizing what he’d just let slip from his lips. He shouldn’t have said that. He definitely shouldn’t have given her any indication of the thoughts that had started to invade his logical mind. Caleb coughed and moved closer, motioning toward the guitar once more. “I’ve never heard that song before.”
She turned her eyes to the guitar, not lifting them again. “That’s because I wrote it.”
He should have been surprised, but he wasn’t. Emily was a musician. She’d found a way to play even though she hadn’t brought an instrument on her vacation. Actually, he was probably wrong on that last bit. This wasn’t a vacation for her. It was an escape.
Caleb had only heard the last bit of her conversation with whoever was on the phone, but based on what he’d heard, she was hiding from something—seeking a refuge rather than running from the law.
His heart went out to her. He could appreciate the desire to feel safe. Wasn’t he in search of the same thing? Though, his desire for security was more related to emotional struggles rather than physical ones. He couldn’t be certain of Emily’s struggles, but he had a feeling they were just as important.
The temptation to settle down beside her in the shade and listen to her play was almost more than he could bear. He had nothing else to do today. All the animals were cared for. Would it be so bad to sit down and rest while listening to her play?
Without really thinking about it, Caleb took a seat a few feet away. “Mind if I listen for a little while?”
A smile tugged at her lips, and her eyes sparkled more than he’d seen before. “You want to listen to me play.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Why not? Are you prone to stage fright?”
She laughed, taking him by surprise. “Hardly.”
Caleb lifted a brow. “So, if you don’t get stage fright, what’s the harm?”
Emily pursed her lips together, then pulled them to the side. “I suppose I could play it for you.” She plucked the strings and then moved to brushing her fingertips across all six of them. Her eyes closed and she swayed to the music.
“Does it have any lyrics?”
Her eyes flew wide and she stared at him, making him regret that he’d interrupted her. Emma blinked a few times, then seemed to remember that he’d asked her a question. “No. Not yet, anyway.” Her eyes flitted upward to meet his. “I’ve been playing since I was big enough to hold a guitar, but I’ve never been very good at writing lyrics.”
Caleb lifted up his knee and rested his forearm on it. He had a hard time believing what she said. If she could make up music, it should be simple enough to write the words in her heart as well. He himself had a knack for putting words to paper when the moment called for it. “No offense, but have you even tried?”
She gaped at him, then tossed her head back and laughed. “I assure you, I’ve tried many times, and each time I’ve failed miserably.”
His brows pulled together as he recalled the music she’d been playing when he’d intruded. “Sounds like a love song.”
