Page 86 of Not Just for Christmas

I held my breath. In all the years I’d known him, I’d never seen him compose. It felt like I was witnessing something special.

‘No, not that.’ He huffed with frustration and tried again. ‘I want mornings in the springtime, I want the heat of summer … summer? Shit man, come on.’

‘Summer shit man has quite a ring to it,’ I said.

‘Jesus Christ!’ Dylan spun round on the piano stool, sending his notebook slithering to the floor. ‘You frightened the life out of me.’

‘Sorry.’ I crossed the room, unable to wipe the smile off my face.

‘Oh yeah, you look it.’ He shifted along the piano stool and patted the seat.

I squeezed beside him. There wasn’t a lot of room, and his leg was warm against mine. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

‘Because of me? I’m sorry, I’ll stop playing.’ He made to close the lid of the piano, but I laid my hand over his.

‘Please don’t. It wasn’t the music that kept me awake.’ It was my own thoughts, mainly of him, I reflected.

Dylan sighed. ‘I couldn’t sleep either.’

I leaned over and picked up the notebook from the rug. It was still open and both pages were covered in writing. ‘More lyrics?’

‘Yeah, my new song, hopefully.’ He took it from me, closing it before I had a chance to read any of it.

‘Hey that’s great!’ I bumped my shoulder against his arm. ‘Congratulations.’

He nodded. ‘Those lyrics that came to me earlier, when I was looking at you in the mirror? They got me started. Now I can’t get the damn thing out of my head.’

I snorted. ‘So you got your inspiration from a scruffy farmer girl who can’t do her own hair.’

‘Yep … problem is,’ he deadpanned. ‘I can’t find a word that rhymes with fuzzy bush.’

‘How about shake your tush? My heart went whoosh?’ I suggested.

‘Damn, you’re good. Why didn’t I think of that?’ His face split into a grin and he ran his fingers over the keys. ‘Actually, I’m writing a song about falling in love at Christmas.’

‘Oh.’ My heart started to thud faster, and I wished I hadn’t been flippant about being his inspiration. ‘Can you play it for me?’

He shook his head. ‘Not yet, it’s still too rough.’

‘Just a teensy snippet?’ I pleaded, my hands pressed together. ‘Please, it might help me to sleep.’

He gave a short laugh. ‘I’d rather people wake up when they hear it, not fall asleep. But how about a deal? I’ll play some of it, if you help me with the chords.’

‘I’ve never played the piano in my life,’ I warned. ‘Not sure I’ll be much help.’

‘Trust me.’

He reached his arm around me, carefully arranged the fingers of my left hand on the piano keys and pressed down so that I played a chord, while he played a tune with his right hand. He repositioned my fingers and we did it again, twice more.

‘And that’s all I’m sharing right now.’ He stopped playing. ‘What do you think so far?’

‘It’s lovely.’ I rested my head on his shoulder. ‘You write such romantic lyrics. I don’t understand why you find it so hard to fall in love with an actual woman.’

He fell silent for a moment. ‘I’ve tried, Lucy. But no one is ever completely right for me.’

I lifted my head and looked into his deep brown eyes. I was sure many women had fallen in love with Dylan Wilde, but to date, he’d found a reason to end every relationship.

‘So try harder, focus on the reasons to love her, and not the reasons why you shouldn’t.’