Exclusive Excerpt from Tuning the Guitarist
by JS Bright
I turned to find Timothy standing close. His gaze met mine, and I wondered if he too thought the doctor and his man were way too cute. A wave of possessiveness washed over me and the urge to claim Timothy as mine hit hard. But he wasn’t mine, and I had no rights to him.
After work, we dropped the packages at the postal center. Timothy had unwrapped the roast I’d picked up last night and had it sitting in a seasoned broth in the refrigerator. I didn’t know if it would make it better or not, but I trusted him to get it right. After I dropped Timothy at the house, I ran out to do more errands. By the time I made it back, the kitchen smelled glorious.
“The food will be amazing.”
“I hope so,” Timothy said. “I’m already hungry for it.”
“How long do we have?”
Timothy checked the timer. “A little over an hour.”
I took Timothy’s hand and kissed the palm. A shiver skated down Timothy’s body and he sucked in a breath.
“I have a bottle of wine and the weather is nice. How about we sit outside and enjoy the evening and talk?”
Timothy’s cheeks turned pink as he nodded. He didn’t speak much, which might be because of how he’d grown up. If only he could relax more around me, but he’d been through so much. I’d learned over the years that part of helping people to relax was accepting myself. Timothy may not need therapy but talking to someone may help him feel better about his past and about himself.
Timothy carried the wine and the glasses while I grabbed blankets on the way out the door, thinking the wind might get cold the longer we sat outside. We settled in the chairs with Timothy beside me.
Because of my hand, I couldn’t open the wine with a regular corkscrew, so I had a contraption that allowed me to pierce the cork with a needle and then pour the wine without removing the cork. Timothy sat up and watched as I used the device to insert the needle.
“That’s amazing,” Timothy said.
“It is, I’m happy somebody developed this so I can enjoy wine. I threw a fit after the accident. Someone had given me a bottle of wine and I freaked out because I couldn’t even get drunk without asking for help. I hated everything about myself. It was a low time.”