Pink Neon Dreams Read Online Free Page B

and
over while putting the shop together.   The shorter cut appealed to some inner emotion, a deep pocket of need
and longing.
    The
man gazed at her and his eyes shimmered. “Can you sing it?” he asked. “Will you
sing along with the music?”
    His
question slashed through ten years of silence, a decade during which she seldom
sang.   Once, Cecily lived to sing and
cherished music.   During the years with
Willard, she seldom raised her voice in song or listened to tunes.   Freed, she’d immersed herself with music
again, but it wasn’t until the last week or so she’d felt able to sing.   Cecily sung along to CDs in the car, at home,
and here at the shop but without an audience.   She parted her lips to say ‘no’, to refuse, but his eyes caught hers and
she sensed a kinship, a shared knowledge of suffering.   He lived with anguish and he knew the price
of pain.   Kindred souls, we’re kindred souls.   Her chin lowered in a brief nod and when the song ended, she allowed it
to begin once more.  
    She
unleashed her voice, blended hers with Grace Potter’s, and added her rich
chocolate to Grace’s vocals.     In the first moments, her skin prickled with
awareness of his presence, but after the notes emerged the music filled the
spaces between them.   She’d sung the
lyrics many times and knew them well.   She
didn’t miss any notes. Her voice remained true to the melody.   During the song, he moved closer and closer
until at the end, he stood at the counter, eyes intent on her.   When the song ended, he stretched his arm
over the barrier and turned the player off.  
    Tears
brightened his eyes, unshed but present in their depths.   Her cheeks were wet too although Cecily
hadn’t realized she cried.   He extended
his hand to her and she took it, held it instead of shaking it. “Thank you,” he
said. “I’m Daniel Padilla.”
    “My
name’s Cecily Brown,” she replied. “I’m glad we share the same taste in music.”
    His
fingers caressed the back of her hand. “Me, too,” he said. “I like your
store.   You’ve got some pretty things.”
    “Thanks,”
she said. He’d never got past the gourmet foods and coffee area, but she
understood the need to say something, even if it sounded lame. “It’s the first
day and you’re my first customer.”
    “Then
I need to buy something.”
    “Only
if you want something I’m selling.”
    “Oh,
I’ve seen several things I like.”
    Please, let one of them be
me.   I like what I see and I want it more
every second. If
she’d met a man like Daniel ten years back, before Willard Bradford the Fourth,
things could’ve been so different.   An
unspoken connection hummed in the air between them, powerful and intense.
“Good,” Cecily said. “I’m glad.”
    If
the bell she installed over the front door hadn’t tinkled, she wasn’t sure what
might’ve happened, but it did.   Two older
ladies, their hair tinted blue from multiple silver rinses at the beauty
parlor, entered.   Cecily ripped her gaze
from Daniel and greeted them.   He
sauntered back and picked out two small scented votive candles from the nearest
shelf.
    “I’ll
take both of these,” he said. “I don’t want to get in your way.”
    She
rang them up. “You’re not.”
    “What
time do you close up shop?”
    “Eight
o’clock.   Why?”
    “I
wondered if you might like to grab some supper afterward.”
    Although
far from the most romantic invitation she’d received, his simple statement
turned her insides gooey and fired prickles of anticipation down her spine. “I
would,” Cecily said. “Thank you.”
    “Then
I’ll pick you up here, a few minutes after eight.”
    “Perfect,”
she said. “I’m looking forward to it, Daniel.”
    His
dark eyes met hers and seared her soul. “So am I.”
    Cecily
watched him walk through the door and climb into his car.   He never glanced back, but she kept him in
her vision until his car merged onto the strip and blended