Perfection #3 Page 6

  I felt insulted at being compared to her punk-ass, ex-boyfriend. I was a world-renowned surgeon with plenty of money and play toys. How the hell could she compare me to a typical college guy who wanted to score as much action as he could? As far I knew, he wasn’t a doctor. Now I was being judged by his actions. That seemed totally screwed up. “I don’t think we were talking about getting married, Lilly.” I laughed angrily. I grabbed my backpack and left the tent. I felt played, like she played me on purpose. I offered her my honest feelings and she spun it back on me. How was I anything like her college sweetheart? Well, screw her too!

  “Wait! Where are you going? I thought you wanted honesty?” She followed me out of the tent tucking her shirt into her jeans and putting on her jacket.

  “No, that was you, Lilly. I don’t give a damn about being honest. How can you compare me to some college kid? I’m a damn doctor with eight years of medical school and wall of awards. I’m not some horny teenager.”

  She put her hands up as if to say calm down. “Whoa! That’s not what I said and that’s not what I meant. I just meant….” I waited for an explanation but I got tired of her dithering.

  What the hell? Let it roll off your back, Bullet. She’s just another girl who got what she wanted. She probably did not even want that surgery to begin with, she just wanted to use you, make a trophy out of you. She probably gets some sick satisfaction at seeing you crawl after her. I forced a fake grin on my face but I didn’t feel any of it. “You know what? It’s okay. Let’s pack our stuff and head back to the cabin. I owe you a tour of the town.” I stormed off to carry some items to the bottom, leaving her behind. I hoped a bear ate her.

  In a few minutes she showed up with a cooler and a backpack. She was ready for a fight. “I don’t know what the hell you are mad about. I didn’t lose it when you told me you weren’t sure you could fit me into your ‘real’ world. So it’s okay for you to reject me but I can’t? You’ve got one heck of an ego, Dr. Steinmann.” She threw the stuff on the boat and walked back to the campsite. Okay, she had a point but I was still wounded. The drive across the lake was quiet, we didn’t talk, despite the incredible sex we had. Maybe it was only incredible for me. I tried not to think about her sweet pinkness, her toned bottom and her golden skin. Damn her, anyway.

  We unloaded the items and both of us parted ways for showers, packing and changing clothing. I figured we’d go to town, be back by three and be back home by tonight. That was the plan. I couldn’t stay here forever, despite what I might want. I was right, wasn’t I? Life had to continue. How could I tell her that I had hookups, so much baggage to deal with, I didn’t know how to fix it? How could I tell her that my clients expect me to have sex with them, it’s like a perk they get when they use my services. Yeah, that was too much honesty. She’d never understand that. I could see her walking away in the middle of that conversation. Miss Goody Two-Shoes would never understand that.

  I blasted the hot water and tried my best to wash away all traces of Lilly Brightwood from my body and my brain. Once I got back home, this was going to be it. No more Lilly for me. I was cutting her off cold turkey. Better I do it than her, right?

  Chapter Eleven

  Lilly

  Bullet Steinmann was a heartache waiting to happen and I did not want it to happen to me. The problem was it was too late. Despite all of my self-talk and pretended caution, I had a soft spot for the sexy doctor. I had made my case to him, explaining to him how he would not fit into my world, just like he tried to tell me I would not fit in his. Boy, did that tick him off! I was pretty sure Bullet did not know what he wanted — me or something else, or maybe someone else. There was no telling if Bullet was already seeing someone or several someones. I got the feeling that he was confused about me and as flattering as that was, I did not want to be with an uncertain man. I wanted whoever I hooked up with to know they wanted to be with me.

  Bullet made it sound as if he would have to change his entire life just to accommodate my presence. That was so unflattering, so cruel of him to say. What did he mean by that? That if his friends saw me they would think he would be settling for something less than what he could have? Did that mean that he thought he was settling? I guess this weekend and the few extra days were really nothing more than a sexy escape from reality for him. Well screw him! I did my best to think about things while I got dressed. I purposefully turned my thoughts to school, symphony and life after Bullet. I did have one of those, right? I heard him tapping on my door and walked over to answer it. I cracked it; I was still in my underwear but I did not want him to come in. No way was I letting that sex machine in here with me right now even though I secretly wished he would step right in.

  “Almost ready?”

  “Yes, I am. Give me fifteen minutes.”

  “I will meet you downstairs in the kitchen. Bring your bags with you. We will drive to the airport after we leave town.”

  Was I supposed to cry about that? “I’ll be there.” I closed the door and scrambled around for my clothing. I wore the same sheath dress that I wore here; it made me feel pretty. Anyways, I felt like dressing up—it was always a morale booster. I wanted him to know what he would be missing. I slid my feet into my mules and checked the bathroom for any items I may have left behind. True to my word, fifteen minutes later I was standing in the kitchen with Bullet, listening to him call his housekeeper. It was official — we were leaving. I put my game face on and pretended to be happy about it.

  As Bullet stuffed the bags in the trunk, I gave one last look at the cabin. It had been a nice getaway spot; I envied this little place. Maybe I should look into getting a home, if my orchestra position falls through. I still didn’t know but as I was about to graduate, I needed to figure that out. It was nice to have so much room and be able to enjoy amenities like a fireplace and a spacious kitchen. Those were things I would miss and I didn’t even know it. At least until now.

  We drove the short distance to the ferry. I rolled down my window and enjoyed the country air for a little while. Right on time, the ferry docked, and we waited for the boat to be secured then drove onto the deck. There was one other car; I recognized the couple from the campsite but they didn’t attempt to socialize. They hung out in their car, windows steamy, music playing. I felt a little jealous but the distance between Bullet and I might as well have been a mile wide. I couldn’t believe that we had shared so much in such a short amount of time. I also couldn’t believe we were leaving like strangers.

  “Want to stand on the deck? We can get a better view from there. I know it’s a short trip from here to the opposite shore but I like the open water.” He put the keys in his pocket, always so careful about the details.

  “Sounds great.” I followed him to the railing and we watched the cabin get smaller. I had mixed feelings about this weekend but I had to admit right now I was just plain sad. “I hope your extended stay didn’t inconvenience your clients.”

  He leaned against the railing his sunglasses in his hand. I had a thing for crisp white shirts and he looked gorgeous in the one he was wearing. The startling white set off his tanned skin, dark hair and playful blue eyes. Oh girl—stop day dreaming! It’s over, remember?

  “Not at all. It was my pleasure. I am sure Page isn’t happy with me but as I remind her frequently, she works for me. It’s not the other way around.”

  “Oh, I see. Do you have personnel problems often?” What I really wanted to ask was, “Did you sleep with her too?” Of course, I was too much of a lady to ask that question.

  “Not really, but she likes continuity. She’s been with me right from the beginning, well almost.” After a few minutes of not speaking, I spotted the approaching shore. I began to feel anxious about leaving. Would he forget all about me? Probably but what could I do about it? Fall at his feet and beg him not to leave me? Hell no! I wasn’t the begging type. We strolled back to the car and waited for the ferry to dock. Bullet paid the toll and we drove onto the highway headed to Blue Lake.
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  “Ready to see other people?” I looked puzzled at his question. “I mean the people in the town.”

  I couldn’t do anything but smile. “Sure and I want to see these two stop lights you told me about. Do you mind if I play some music?”

  “I don’t mind at all. That’ll be nice. No classical though.”

  “Rats. How did you know?” I smiled up at him pretending to be happy. There was no sense in arguing with him or trying to explain what I meant. I had bruised his ego, now he needed time to repair it. Hmm… I guess I knew more about men than I thought. “So, no classical. How about classic rock?” I flipped through the channels searching for a classic rock station.

  “That would be great although you might have better luck if you put it on satellite. These local stations play nothing but country. I like the occasional country ballad, but not for more than a few minutes.” I tuned in to Kansas playing “Dust in the Wind.” It was a beautiful tune and I loved the soaring violin solo in the middle. This passage plucked at my soul. I closed my eyes, just like the song said, and listened to the music. When the song ended, I turn the volume down a little and tried my best to start a conversation with Bullet.

  “So I think you told me you didn’t come to town much? Is there a reason why? Are the good people of Blue Lake unfriendly?” That was as good of a conversation opener as I could think of.

  “I have been into town probably six times, mostly to get supplies for the cabin, a few times just to socialize. They have a convenient pub, which serves great chicken wings. I’ve been there a couple of times but as far as really getting to know anyone, I haven’t done that. Not like community leaders or shop owners or anything like that, anyway.”

  I could totally interpret what he was saying. He did not go to town very much but when he did, it was to a local bar where he did meet a few people that he did not want to tell me about. I laughed to myself.

  “Did I say something funny?” His bruised ego was still bouncing up and down on his brain. I quickly offered up a little white lie to avoid telling him what I was really thinking. So much for the honesty pledge. I figured we had both already broken that. “With just two stop lights, I guess there aren’t many people to get to know in the first place.” That was weak but that was all I had.

  Bullet agreed with me. “Yeah, compared to Des Moines and Kansas City, Blue Lake is just a dot on the map. It is kind of wholesome though. I think you’ll like it.”

  “So you think I’m wholesome?”

  “Yes! Except after two beers or three Cosmos.” I loved seeing his smile even if it was a rueful one.

  He was right, Blue Lake was very small compared to the locales we lived in; however, it had its nice points. The shops Bullet had mentioned were open, and each had a quaint wooden sign hanging above the walkway of the storefronts. They were open for business and I wanted to go check them out. I loved shopping but I was frugal. I told him so and he said, “Let’s drive through town first and park and then we can walk through. It’ll be good exercise and you’ll get to see everything. Have you ever been to Gatlinburg, in Tennessee?”

  “No, I can’t say that I have.”

  “Blue Lake is a lot like Gatlinburg—they both have a lot of craftsmen and a lot of great food. Here’s a good place to park. Bring your ID just in case we decide to stop by the pub. They have wonderful food; it might make a great place to stop for lunch.”

  “That sounds great!” I dug in my purse and retrieved my ID and some cash. The idea of getting something to eat sounded great — my stomach was rumbling and we had skipped breakfast. I knew that by the time lunch came around I would be starving. “Wait!” I took Bullet by the hands. “No thinking about anything. Let’s just enjoy this little bit of time we have together. Okay? Right now, this minute, it is just Bullet and Lilly. Two friends having some fun.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. With a distant smile, he agreed and took my hand.

  One of the first places we passed was the pub that Bullet mentioned, the Blue Lake Bar. A neon sign flashed above the door—it was a curled wave with a beer sitting in the center of it. Well that was pretty self-explanatory. We did not stop there but continued on to a candy shop, and a microbrewery next. I was surprised at the amount of tourists that were walking along the sidewalks and checking out the shops. “Yes, these aren’t just for Blue Lake tourists. People from surrounding areas come here too because of all the unique outlets. You’ll see in just a minute. They have a guy here that can sculpt anything with a chainsaw. Now that’s doing some surgery.” As if she heard us talking, Bullet’s assistant called his phone. He stepped away for a minute leaving me to window shop in front of a thrift store. I found some things that interested me, like an antique violin case so I waved at him to let him know that I was going inside.

  I stepped into the shop and it was like stepping back in time. A turn-of-the-century dressmaker’s dummy stood in the window and a collection of lace gloves lay on a nearby velvet covered display case. They reminded me of Kate who loved all things lacey. I looked at the tag. That seemed reasonable and Christmas was only a few months away. Before I made the purchase I had to check out the violin. What were the chances that this instrument would be in good working order?

  “Ma’am, I was wondering, may I open this case? I would like to see the condition of the instrument.” The shopkeeper walked around the counter to the display I stood next to. I had not noticed before but she was wearing Victorian era clothing, a long skirt and a long-sleeved shirt with ruffles at the neck and the wrists. Her hair was piled into a Gibson girl style and she looked like someone who stepped right out of the past. I think the fact that she did not wear any makeup made her look even more like an antique.

  “Yes, it is a lovely instrument. I think that you will find that it works beautifully. Do you play, dear?” She had a lovely soft, feminine voice. She opened the case carefully and gently lifted the violin out of the velvet lined box. The instrument shone in the light. I turned it over looking for cracks but found none. This was not a violin for an adult; rather this piece was for a child. I found it all that much more endearing knowing that this beautiful instrument probably had been handled by a child that lived during the turn-of-the-century. We should never forget the children of the past. I pushed back images of my little sister, her stringy blonde hair and her trusting dark eyes. I plucked at a string and then another. Of course these needed to be replaced but the instrument itself was perfect.

  “Did you find something interesting?” Bullet slid his phone in his pocket and touched the violin gently with his fingers.

  “It is a child’s violin. Turn-of-the-century, probably one from a local school, a music school that closed in the 50s. It is a nice piece to have for a collector of antique musical instruments. Although, I bet this young lady could coax some sound out of it. You look like you know how this is played, my dear.”

  “Yes, please play something.” Bullet looked curious and I had to admit I felt like showing off a little. I was tired of him having the upper hand when it came to careers. The instrument was smaller than the one I normally handled by not by much.

  “The strings seem a little weak. I wouldn’t want to break one,” I said to the shopkeeper as I lifted the bow and the violin.

  “No worries about that my dear. My husband knows how to replace a violin string. He can play every instrument in the shop and I have quite a few. Go ahead, play something.”

  “All right, if you’re sure.” I played the Vivaldi piece since it was the one I had been rehearsing most recently. I closed my eyes at the beginning, pretending that I was by myself. I always did that unless I was performing — then you didn’t dare close your eyes because conductors frowned on that sort of thing. But when it was just me, it was just me. Towards the end of the passage I had selected, I opened my eyes. The shopkeeper was wiping tears away and Bullet had a strange look on his face. I had seen many of his expressions, self-confidence, his proud demeanor, but never this one. What was it? Had I impressed h
im or did my playing turn him off? Who knew and who cared? I played the last note and allowed it to hang in the air before I returned the instrument carefully to its case.

  “You must be a professional. That was the loveliest thing I’ve heard in a long time. Thank you my dear for stopping by and sharing your gift with me today. Would you like to take this home with you? It seems to like you.” She rubbed away more tears; I could tell that the words were sincere but I decided against purchasing the instrument. Not because I didn’t love it—I did! But it didn’t belong to me. It belonged to some lost child, somewhere.

  “No, I don’t think I will, although it is a lovely piece. I will take those lace gloves in the front window. I have a friend who loves English lace.”

  The shopkeeper smiled and brought me the selection I wanted. She offered to gift wrap them and placed them in a white box with a gold bow. “Come back soon,” she said as we stepped out of the store.

  Still quiet, Bullet walked beside me. What was he thinking? I reached over and took his hand. “Should I have played Kansas?”

  “No, I think what you played was perfect. I had no idea you played like that. I mean, I knew you were orchestra-quality but the way you pulled music out of that old violin; it was like you pulled magic out of the air. I was impressed.”

  “Thank you. It was a fine violin.”

  “Why didn’t you buy it? You seemed to love it.” We walked up the sidewalk, passing shop after shop, not really looking at them. I think we both just wanted to be together a little longer. How could I explain this to him?

  “Yes, I did love it but I didn’t really need it. I have three already and in a way, it seemed kind of sad. Just think, some child that’s not even here anymore used to play it, maybe even loved it. I don’t know—it just didn’t seem like it belonged to me.”

  He said he understood but he was quiet afterwards. “Hey, how about that food? I’m starving!” We needed a change of subject and a change of scenery. “Let’s head back to the pub.”