The Air Singer (The Cantors) Read Online Free Page B

“I’m exhausted, but I promise to have a girl’s night with you tomorrow night. Deal?”
    “Fine, I guess I’ll settle for microwave pizza and a good book.” Kate grabbed her purse from the table. “I’ll be over tomorrow night at eight.”
    “Sounds good.”
    Tally walked her friend to the door. When she returned to her table and checked the clock, she decided to call it an early day. After six, not many people showed up at the shop. She gathered her stones and cards, grabbed her purse, and locked the gate between the coffee bar and the metaphysical shop, bidding the barista a good night.
    When she arrived home, she drew herself a warm bath. The steam from the hot water cleared her head and the heat relaxed her muscles. Tiny bubbles popped and released the scent of lavender into the air. She sank deeper into the water letting the suds touch her chin. Listening to the soothing sounds of a Native American flute on her mp3 player, she tried to loose herself in her thoughts.
    Was Roland at the Taproom tonight? Was he looking for her? Was he talking to another girl, giving her the same people-watching story he gave her the week before?
    Tally opened her eyes and sighed aloud. Why was she so obsessed with this guy? She knew why. He was gorgeous and seemed intelligent. He looked her in the eye when he spoke to her and his touch was electric. His aura was warm with colors of green and gold. She had never seen a combination of those colors in a man his age before. The wave of energy that preceded him was overwhelming, but when he sat at her table that night, there was no sign of anything with that kind of power. He was comfortable to be around, save for his touch.
    She got out of the tub, dried herself and dressed in cotton lounge pants with an oversized tee. She heated the pasta from the night before and was in bed before nine o’clock. Tossing and turning, she couldn’t deny that a part of her wanted to get out of bed, get dressed and head to the Taproom just to see him again. She snuggled tighter into her blankets and forced her eyes closed making a deal with herself to go to the Taproom the following week if she was still being affected like this. After an hour, she drifted to sleep.
    When she awoke the next morning, Tally was less than refreshed. She had dreams of Roland as every night, but these were different. It was as if he was talking with her, but she couldn’t make out the words. After eating breakfast and getting dressed, she headed back to the shop. It was Friday, so it would be slow. Most people spent the day working or getting ready for the weekend so the shop was quiet. By the afternoon, she had dusted all of the displays and counted the inventory for a second time. As she rearranged the stones on her table again, the door chime alerted her to a customer coming in. She turned around, ready to help another love lost soul when she nearly lost her breath. Walking toward her, wearing a black graphic tee and well-fitting jeans, was Roland.
    “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” Roland’s voice was as smooth as she remembered. “I hear they make great lattes here.”
    Tally stood stunned. How did he remember where she worked? Why was he here? Her heart flipped in her chest while she tried to maintain a calm appearance. “I take mine with cream and sugar.”
    Roland brought her a warm cup of coffee and she led him to her table.
    “So the coffee brings you here?” Tally offered the seat across from her.
    “I’m going to let you answer that question yourself, seeing as how you are supposed to be the psychic.” He sat down and leaned back comfortably as if this was a common occurrence. Tally was almost offended by his casual demeanor. How could he act as if this was an everyday event when she had been dreaming of him every night for the past week and almost forgot to breathe when he walked in?
    “So you are here for a reading?” Tally grabbed her cards and began shuffling. Roland reached over, placed his