A Moonlit Serenade Read online

  Table of Contents

  Epilogue

  A Moonlit Serenade

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Synopsis

  Ryn

  Jake

  Chapter 17

  Thank You!

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Alexa Padgett

  A Moonlit Serenade

  Alexa Padgett

  Sidecar Press, LLC

  Contents

  A Moonlit Serenade

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Synopsis

  1. Ryn

  2. Jake

  3. Ryn

  4. Jake

  5. Ryn

  6. Jake

  7. Ryn

  8. Jake

  9. Ryn

  10. Jake

  11. Ryn

  12. Jake

  13. Ryn

  14. Jake

  15. Ryn

  16. Jake

  Chapter 17

  18. Jake

  19. Ryn

  20. Jake

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Alexa Padgett

  A Moonlit Serenade

  by Alexa Padgett

  Copyright

  Title © 2017 Alexa Padgett

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Dedication

  For Nicole, my editor extraordinaire. I adore working with you.

  A MOONLIT SERENADE

  He fell in love with her voice first. Now, he’s in danger of falling in love with the rest of her…

  The sound he can’t forget

  He fell in love with her voice first. But trying to recruit mysterious girl-next-door music teacher Ryn Hudson to work on an album together is proving harder than Jake Etsam ever imagined. She’s prickly, defensive, wounded, and stubborn. And he’s in danger of falling in love with the rest of her, too…

  The hope she can’t deny

  Ryn has had her share of heartache, and she’s not eager to risk a silly crush on an arrogant, unavailable rock star. Jake’s band is one of the hottest act in the world, and for a woman who’s already lost it all, celebrity drama holds no appeal. But the man himself is harder to turn away…

  The chance they can’t resist

  As the holiday season takes over chilly Seattle, Jake and Ryn can see that something between them glows warmer than twinkle lights. But even if they can stop their doubts, close their eyes, and believe in magic, the dangers of his fame and her past can’t just be wished away…

  1

  Ryn

  “I’m supposed to meet with Ryn Hudson. You know, the songwriter.”

  “That’s me,” I said, looking up. Sweet jelly jiggles. I tried to pry my eyes away from those striking hazel eyes, the crooked brown brows, but I couldn’t. His was the face of an angel—until panic flamed in his eyes and he lost all the color behind his sexy tan.

  “No way. No.” He even stumbled back. Like my studio was some type of horror show.

  “Excuse me?” I said, hands dropping to my hips. Good thing my guitar was hooked around my neck by its strap. Otherwise, four thousand dollars’ worth of handmade Taylor would be on the ground, dented, possibly broken.

  “Ryn’s a songwriter. A musician,” he stressed the last word, his accent was strong. Not British, I didn’t think. Unless it was Cockney. But he didn’t sound like Adele, the only person whose voice I’d ever heard with that accent.

  “I’m aware of what I am. Thank you very much.”

  “But you . . . you’re playing chords for babies.”

  I glanced around my class, shocked to see all ten moms and their kids staring, just as awestruck by the man as I’d been moments before. Before he ticked me off.

  “That’s what we do. Play songs for the kids so they learn about pitch and rhythm. Well, in this case, we played ‘Jingle Bells’ because the song rocks, and it’s close to Christmas.”

  “Oh,” Helena moaned. “I think I’m going to die. I knew I should’ve combed my hair.”

  I glanced over at her, nonplussed by her drama. Her daughter Ilona sucked on her pacifier in slow, deep pulls, eyes lowered to dangerous, prenap-time levels.

  “You’re Jake Etsam,” Stephani yelped. I didn’t appreciate the predatory look in her eyes when she glanced at the angel-man. He’d asked for me. Ergo, he was mine.

  Whoa. Hold the shaky eggs. Where had that thought come from?

  “Oops, Kendall had a little problem there, Steph,” I said, not trying to hide the laughter from my voice.

  Stephani half moaned, half shrieked as Kendall upchucked more of her milk straight down Steph’s low-cut, clingy top, her face as red as the poinsettias I’d placed on the top shelves of the bookcases in my room. A few of the other moms choked back giggles as Stephani hopped up. Clutching the baby, she raced out the door, past the angel-man named Jake—as in Jake Etsam, bassist of Jackaroo, the world’s most famous band—toward the bathrooms at the end of the long hall.

  “Guess that’s a wrap for the day,” Helena said, gathering up Ilona in her arms. The fifteen-month-old grunted, her eyes slamming shut. “You wore this one out, Ryn. Thanks for a great class of singing and songwriting,” she said. The frown she threw over her shoulder at Jake did not register in the man’s demeanor.

  “Bye-bye!” Lionel shrieked. His mother, Kim, winced and smiled, her expression somewhere between apologetic and kill-me-now. “Transitions,” she said.

  “You’re right, Lion-man. We didn’t sing our goodbye song. You want a shaky egg to jam with?”

  Lionel barreled through two other kids, sending them flying as he dug into the egg basket, his mother chastising him and apologizing to the other moms at the same time.

  Yeah, Jake Etsam, angel-man and rock god. This is my music scene. Deal with it.

  I strummed out the chord and Lionel bounced, his diaper-clad tush mere inches from the carpet as he got busy to his favorite song. Ilona popped her head up and threw herself from her mother’s arms to get in on the shaky-egg action. Samuel and Petey stopped crying as I started singing, each clapping and matching my pitch as we worked through each of their names to say goodbye.

  “And hug your mommy tight. Bye-bye till next week,” I said. I set my guitar in the middle of the floor, wincing a little as the remaining toddlers swarmed toward the polished wood, attacking the strings with their tiny fingers. This was their favorite part of the class and an easy way for the moms to pry the other chunky, plastic musical instruments from the kids’ small hands.

  “That’s a custom-made Taylor,” Jake choked. He’d moved behind me as we sang the final song. Well, the kids and I sang. The rest of the women eyed Jake’s progress as he tiptoed around the edge of the classroom.

  “I’d heard your brother was spending time in Seattle while his girlfriend recovered,” Joan said. She was the oldest of our group—little Carina had
been a surprise for Joan, her husband, and her high-school-aged daughter. She tucked her thick salt-and-pepper hair behind her ears as she set Carina down next to my guitar. The toddler cooed and slammed her palm against the strings.

  “Fiancée,” Jake replied, eyes still on the four toddlers climbing onto my guitar. “You’re not worried about them breaking it?”

  “Not really, no. They just want to look inside to see where the sound comes from.”

  “My daughter’s a big fan of yours,” Joan continued.

  Jake raised startled eyes. Joan shook her head on a laugh. “Not this little cutie. My older daughter. She’s a junior in high school.”

  “Oh, right-o. Want me to sign something for her?”

  “Would you?” Joan asked, her smile blooming larger than I’d ever seen it. “That would just make Nicole’s year.”

  “Course.” Jake snagged a pen from the shelf behind me before grabbing an early-childhood music pamphlet and scrawling his name across the front. “Cheers.” He handed the brochure to Joan, who clutched it to her chest. No way she was giving that to her daughter.

  The other moms asked for his autograph, too. After another fifteen minutes, the toddlers had all lost interest in my guitar and two of them were bawling in earnest while Ilona and Petey rubbed their eyes and yawned.

  “Nap time,” Helena said. “Nice to meet you, Jake. Maybe if you stop by again, you can sing with Ryn. She has an amazing voice.” Even I heard the reprimand in her words.

  Jake dipped his head. “I know. Pulled me in with the first note.”

  My gaze darted back to his, and when our eyes locked, sincerity burned from the depths of his hazel eyes.

  Lionel hugged my leg, breaking my intense contact with Jake. I ruffled Lionel’s hair, then I waved a last goodbye to the ladies and kids. As they gathered their diaper bags and coats, I busied myself with wiping the toddler spittle from my guitar and setting it into its case.

  “Er, I need to apologize.”

  My gaze darted back to Jake’s. His cheeks and even his neck burned bright red but he kept his eyes firmly on mine. The intensity of his look slid over my body, making my skin warm and soften.

  “I’m sorry if I offended you. I didn’t mean…I just wasn’t expecting . . . you know.”

  He stuttered through the apology. I shoved my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. Of course I knew who Jake Etsam was. Of course I was thrilled he’d sought me out. But that didn’t mean I was going to let him trample over my work.

  “No, I really don’t,” I said, shrugging. I snapped the last clasp of my guitar case closed and stood.

  Jake ran his hand through his long brown waves. “I’m a wanker,” he said, his voice a little lost. “I’m so sorry. Really. I should have thought before I…”

  Stephani barreled back into the room, eyes wide. “I’m so glad you’re still here!” Her eyes never left Jake’s face even as she lowered Kendall to her feet. The nine-month-old’s lip quivered but Stephani ignored her, racing to Jake’s side and grabbing his arm. “I’m your biggest fan. Omigod! I can’t believe I’m, like, touching you.”

  Jake inclined his head toward the now-sobbing Kendall. “What about your little girl?”

  “She’s not mine,” Stephani said, frowning. “I just watch her. I’m totally single. Will you sign something for me? Want to grab some lunch? A drink? Go to the skating rink over at Westlake Center?”

  I leaned my guitar against the wall and bent to pick up Kendall, whose whimpers ratcheted up to full-on wails. I cradled her in my arms and pressed my lips to her ear, singing a lullaby I’d written last year as part of my healing process.

  Kendall quieted enough for me to hear Stephani proposition Jake again. Yeah, Steph wasn’t ever going to be on my faves list.

  I patted Kendall’s back and continued to croon, warmth building in my chest as the baby’s pretty pink lips parted into a yawn. She looked up at me with her huge brown eyes. She reminded me of an owlet. She blinked, pressing her cheek into my chest.

  “Oh, I’m sure Ryn won’t mind keeping an eye on Kendall for a while. She loves kids.” Stephani dismissed me without a second thought.

  I did like Kendall quite a bit. But I wasn’t going to change my afternoon plans so that Stephani could bag the sexy Aussie rocker.

  Before I could tell her so, Jake smiled—well, it was more of a pained grimace—and sent me a pleading look.

  “I’m on Ryn’s calendar this arvo. And then I’m off to a meeting. Another time, perhaps.”

  “Oh. Well. Sure.” Stephani’s disappointment was palpable. Her eyes lit up. “Want me to show you all the cool places to party tonight? I’m dropping Kendall off at her mom’s office around four.”

  I rolled my eyes but didn’t stop singing. Kendall heaved a sigh and closed her eyes.

  “Can’t. I’m off to dinner at my brother’s place. Private. Just family. Mila’s still healing.”

  I chuckled into Kendall’s hair. Way to lay it on thick, angel-man.

  “Here you go, Steph. She’s down for the count. Have a fun afternoon.” I couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to Kendall’s soft, pink cheek. If it was anyone else, I would have gladly snuggled the baby for as long as I could. A pang bit through my chest as I swiped my thumb across Kendall’s forehead, struggling with the longing I’d felt every time I looked at someone else’s child.

  This is what I lost when Desden didn’t come home from his last tour in Iraq. We’d planned to start a family after I finished my master’s degree. Instead, one night two years ago, three Army officers, in full dress attire, knocked on my apartment door to hand me Dez’s medal of valor. He died in that war and I’ve been alone since.

  I huffed out a breath and stepped back.

  “You ’right?” Jake’s voice softened as he stepped closer. Since his initial outburst, Jake had been considerate—not just of my feelings but of those of the ladies in my class.

  “Yeah.” I hoped. I’d learned grief hit like this—a sudden sucker punch to the chest. But I’d also learned to breathe through the intensity because I’d already come out the other side. Maybe scarred, but living my life nonetheless.

  Such as it was. So different from what I’d hoped.

  “Mila looks like that when she sees a baby. My brother’s fiancée.”

  I met Jake’s concerned, intense hazel eyes. His hair tumbled into messy waves. Like he’d let it air dry after a morning surf. Or rolled out of a lover’s bed.

  Whoa. Where had that thought come from?

  “I never lost a child, like Mila, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “Figured you knew who I am, read all the news about my family like the rest of the world,” he said, his dimples flashing. They were deep wells bracketing his mouth like extra commas. Dez’s dimples were smaller, just hints at humor. But, Jake, I’d bet, lived larger than my deceased war-hero husband ever had.

  The pain settled low in my stomach, same as it did every time I heard of another’s pregnancy. I’d begged Dez to try for our own child in the short months between his deployments. Often. He’d said he’d talk about baby matters when he returned from his next tour.

  “Congratulations to your brother and his fiancée,” I muttered.

  He eyed me, aware of my less-than-enthusiastic response. “So that’s why I’m here. Partly anyway. I heard your lullaby. It’s gorgeous.”

  I’d had a fantasy of Dez’s dark head singing to my growing bump. Well, except for the fact Dez barely held a tune, and he’d never been interested in music, preferring to kayak or rock climb—some physical outdoorsy activity that ate up his energy.

  “Thanks.”

  Jake fidgeted, flustered by my lack of enthusiasm. “So, I thought, well, maybe you and I could sing it. I wanted to give it to Mila and Murphy as a wedding gift. They’re getting married in February, weekend after Valentine’s Day. Probably so Murphy doesn’t fuck up and forget both.”

  I smiled, surprised by how touched I was by the thoughtful
ness of the gesture. Jake Etsam might be a rock star, but he loved his family. I bet he’d make a great dad.

  Flipping hyenas. I forced my eyes away from the all the gorgeous hotness standing in front of me. And that accent—swoon worthy—no wonder my ovaries had replaced my brain.

  “That’s sweet. So, you want to record the lullaby.”

  He fidgeted again. “I’d really like to sing with you. As a duet.” His eyes darted around the room, his cheeks turning a ruddier hue. “But I don’t sing, normally.”

  “You did back up on ‘She’s So Bad.’”

  He smiled, probably thrilled I knew that. I almost rolled my eyes. Everyone knew Jackaroo. They were the band of the year—maybe the decade.

  “Right-o. Also for ‘Between Breaths.’ But that’s because both of those were on-the-fly, last-minute additions to the set list.”

  “You’re kidding?” I gaped. I couldn’t help it. “Those—both of those—are multiplatinum recordings!”

  Jake shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Only bigger hit was ‘Hold You Close,’ which Murph insisted on singing solo. Those tunes are full of real emotion. That’s what the fans respond to.”

  “On the fly?” I gasped, unable to comprehend his words afterward. But if Jake connected with my lullaby, then he’d felt the pent-up yearning in my song for the child I’d yet to meet.