Blue-Eyed Soul (2 page)

"Can I get ten boxes of those, Carl?" He glanced up and caught the look on the storeowner's face. "I know. But the others will split and fray so easily..."

Carl smiled and shook his head as he pulled the boxes of reeds out from under the counter. "And you're spending your own money again, aren't you? Well, I'm only going to let you buy five boxes."

Aleks's brows shot up. "What? But I need--"

Carl set precisely ten boxes on the counter. "What you need is more money for those kids. Here. They're buy one get one free today."

Aleks tilted his head with a knowing smile. "They are not."

Carl shrugged and sat on his stool with his newspaper. "Sure they are. I say so." Shrewd brown eyes met Aleks's over the man's glasses. "You arguing with me, son?"

Aleks held up his hands with a laugh. "Not me, no, sir. Thanks, Carl. Free tickets to our winter concert then, okay?"

"Deal." Carl wasn't looking at him, though, peering across the shop to the windows. "Well, looky there. You seen this, Aleks?"

Aleks turned and sighed at the sight of a small-knit-cap-and-sunglasses-wearing figure hurrying toward the shop, casting occasional glances back over his shoulder to where a couple of photographers hovered a handful of yards back. "Christ, that's him?
That's
who all this fuss is about?"

He turned to watch as Remey Dufresne ducked into the music shop, pulling off his beanie and sunglasses and tucking them into the pocket of his pea coat. The paparazzi didn't follow, thankfully, and Aleks shook his head as they took up positions at the window of the store. He didn't get the interest.

Sure, Remey sang pretty good, but why did anyone care that he was shopping? Who would buy pictures of somebody buying picks or whatever it was Remey was in Carl's for?

"I figured somebody so famous would be... I dunno." Carl shrugged and scratched his neck. "Bigger. Louder. He's just a kid, seems like."

Aleks shook his head. "He's no kid, Carl."

Young, sure--maybe twenty-four or so?--but no kid. He wasn't exactly what Aleks had expected either, though. His brown hair was rumpled from the beanie, jeans faded and worn in spots. And not the fake way designers tried to make them, but worn like they'd spent a lot of time clinging to those slim legs and the curve of his-- Aleks cut off the thought before it could finish.

So what if Remey was extremely attractive? He was a famous pop star; what did anyone expect? Of course he was going to be good-looking. Aleks hadn't been prepared for
how
good-looking.

"Anything I can help you find?" Carl called out to him, and Remey turned toward the counter.

Aleks turned away and finished bagging up his reeds.

"Not yet... I'm gonna look around a bit. It's a great little store." Remey's voice had a bit of a Louisiana twang to it, and Aleks wondered briefly which part he was from before he cut his thoughts off. No need to go getting curious about their new local celebrity. Next thing you knew, he'd be Googling for the guy's Wiki page or something.

"Holler if you need anything. We keep extra stock upstairs, if you don't see what you're lookin' for out here."

Aleks snorted, and Carl gave him a sharp look.

"What? I can't be helpful?"

Aleks chuckled. "Not at all, go right ahead. I bet he'd even give you an autograph if you ask real sweet, Carl," Aleks teased quietly.

Carl rolled his eyes. "Ass. Excuse me while I go try and make a sale. If that's okay with you."

Aleks made a sweeping gesture toward the other side of the store, where Remey was eyeing a guitar on the wall. He tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned against the counter to observe. He still wasn't sure what Remey was doing in Haven. They weren't near anything important; he hadn't heard anything about the guy filming any of those stupid music videos. From all appearances, Remey had simply bought a house and moved in. Like it was perfectly normal for someone like him to move to the middle of nowhere.

A few minutes later, Carl disappeared upstairs, apparently to fetch something Mr. Hollywood wanted. Then, much to Aleks's annoyance, Remey turned his attention to Aleks, approaching the counter.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to interrupt."

Aleks shook his head, casting the young man a sideways glance. "It's fine." He reached over and grabbed the bags, a couple of boxes tumbling onto the counter when he fumbled.

Remey gestured to the reeds. "That's a lot of reeds. Stocking up?"

Aleks wasn't sure why Remey seemed to think small talk was the thing. But his mother had raised him not to be rude, so he shook his head. "No. I teach music over at the high school and these are for the school clarinets."

Then Remey Dufresne smiled at him.
Damn it.
Bright blue eyes lit up and his whole face sort of scrunched up as he let out a pleased little laugh. "Oh wow! That's great. So there's a good music program here?"

Aleks's brows lifted and he did his best to try not to notice how pretty--and, damn it, there really wasn't another word for the flawless skin, cherry red lips and long lashes--Remey was. "Do you... have a kid?" He looked way too young, but Aleks couldn't figure out why else he'd care about the school music program.

Remey laughed again, shaking his head. "No, no. I'm super-involved in music education funding, though. It's important. I work with some organizations that fund programs and stuff."

"Here you go. I knew we had some up there." Carl creaked his way down the stairs and set a handful of boxes on the counter.

Remey smiled and nodded as Carl started to bag up his guitar strings, turning slightly toward Aleks. "So the program, is it a good one?"

"Aleks here tries his best to make it that way," Carl put in, and Remey grinned, holding out his hand.

"Aleks?" he asked, his voice trailing off a little.

"Aleks Kelly," Aleks answered, putting his hand into Remey's and shaking it briefly.

"Remey Dufresne."

"I guessed," Aleks said dryly, jerking his head toward the street. "Most people in Haven don't go around with their own press entourage."

Remey flushed, sliding his hands into his pockets. "I don't, either. Not willingly anyway."

Aleks didn't say anything. The guy wanted sympathy? It wasn't
his
town that had been overrun with outsiders with nothing better to do than loiter or clog up the streets with their giant SUVs, while waiting for Remey to go out to buy a Red Bull or something.

Aleks grabbed the bags of reeds off the counter, nodding at Carl. "Charge my account, Carl, and thanks. I'll make sure you get front row seats." He chuckled, digging for his keys in his front pocket. "I'm not guaranteeing you won't go deaf if I can't get them to practice hard enough..."

Remey glanced back and forth between them. "Front row seats for what?"

Aleks pressed his lips together, but Carl chimed in when Aleks didn't answer.

"Annual holiday concert at the Winter Festival. You gotta make time to come. Lots of stuff happening and you'll get to meet the whole town."

Aleks rolled his eyes. "He doesn't want to meet the whole town, Carl."

Remey blinked, brows knitting. "Sure I do. Why wouldn't I?"

Aleks shrugged, giving the young man a challenging look. "I doubt our little festival is your type of thing." He glanced over at Carl. "Thanks again, Carl. Tell Myrna I send my love, and I'll see you guys at the football game tonight." Then he turned to leave, but not before he caught the frown on Remey's face.

As Aleks tossed the bag of reeds onto the front seat, the door to Carl's shop jingled open and Remey stepped out, holding up a hand.

"Aleks, wait. I..."

Aleks didn't know what Remey had to say to him, but it turned into a moot point when the paparazzi swarmed, all of them shouting at him, snapping pictures and shoving recorders into his face.

Aleks gave him a long, pointed look. He wanted nothing to do with the media circus following Remey everywhere and shook his head as he climbed into his SUV. Mr. Hollywood could keep his fame and his messy life away from Aleks and the people he loved. That was all.

* * * *

Aleks stared up at the house. He'd half-expected to find a giant, ten-foot fence all around it, with one of those obnoxious call boxes to keep the peons out. There was just a small sign stuck in the ground next to the mailbox announcing the place was private property and trespassers would be prosecuted.

He hoped it only applied to the media, which hovered not twenty feet away on the other side of the road, cameras poised, probably snapping pictures of him at that very minute, Googling on their smartphones to find out who he was and why he had come to see Remey Dufresne.

He could
not
believe he'd been talked into this. One five-minute brush with the guy at Carl's shop and suddenly the Winter Festival committee thinks he's the go-to man for communing with their new local legend? His lip curled in distaste.

But still... it was for the town, for the kids and that was the
only
reason he didn't turn around right then and go back to the committee and tell them they could fawn all over Remey themselves, but he wasn't doing it.

He let out a sigh and climbed the steps to the modest house. He knew it well, the McKinley place. They'd always had the best haunted house at Halloween when he'd been growing up.

He rang the bell and took a step back, waiting. He wondered if Remey answered his own door or if he had some kind of personal assistant, even here at home. The sound of footsteps inside the house told him he'd find out soon enough.

* * * *

Remey's jaw dropped when he caught sight of Aleks through the peephole. Rocking back on his heels, he raked one hand through his hair and tucked the guitar pick he was still holding into the pocket of his jeans, glancing ruefully down at himself. He wasn't exactly dressed to impress. Of all times for the sexy schoolteacher to come calling, he'd picked a day when Remey had thrown on his comfiest--and hence least attractive--outfit. Not to mention he hadn't bothered with his contacts this morning and was wearing his glasses instead. Still, there was no time to change; Aleks looked like standing at Remey's door was akin to standing outside the gates of hell.

God, he was so handsome, though. Aleks was one of those guys who didn't fit a single standard of "conventional" good looks, and yet managed to be heart-stoppingly sexy anyway. Long, dark red hair fell nearly to his elbows. His face was angular and strong-boned, with deep-set golden brown eyes that had made Remey weak in the knees every time the man had glanced at him the other day in the shop.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and smiled. "I didn't expect you to turn up on my doorstep." Remey stepped back, letting Aleks in and closing the door behind him, fully aware that every reporter camped across the street had taken pictures of him letting a strange man into his house. "I figured maybe my assistant gave in to her curiosity and flew out to see if I'd been brainwashed or something."

Aleks looked a little confused, and Remey smiled. "Inside joke. Here, let me hang up your coat."

Aleks hesitated, but handed his coat and scarf over, and Remey hung them on the coat tree next to the door, rubbing his hands down the thighs of his jeans. "Can I get you something to drink?"

Aleks didn't answer right away, his eyes skimming down Remey's body, from his face right down to the tips of his bare toes, then back up again. Remey felt goosebumps erupt on the back of his neck, his skin heating at the not-so-subtle onceover.

"Ah... no, I'm good, thanks."

"Okay. Do you want to sit?" Remey gestured through the open archway into the living room, where his new furniture was grouped around the fireplace. He had no idea why Aleks might be stopping by to see him, but his mama would have his hide if he were anything less than perfectly polite to a guest, even an unexpected one.

"Sure, okay." Aleks agreed, and Remey waved him to the couch, then sat on the loveseat facing him, eyes bright with curiosity.

"I'm going to guess this isn't a welcome to the neighborhood visit..." Remey began, watching Aleks. Gosh, he was gorgeous, and Remey was feeling all kinds of tingles for him. Too bad he seemed to think Remey was some sort of Hollywood asshole.

Aleks looked uncomfortable. Remey wasn't sure why. It certainly couldn't be that Aleks was feeling star-struck because Remey was sitting there in frayed jeans, black-rimmed glasses and bare feet. Not at all intimidating, though he didn't think Aleks was the type to be intimidated in the first place.

Then Aleks shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I guess we all assumed you'd be too busy for welcome wagons."

Remey smiled, shaking his head. "Not at all. That's kind of why I'm here... to not be so busy."

"Oh. Well, listen, I don't want to bother you..."

Remey frowned, leaning forward when Aleks would have gotten up. "No, you're not. Sorry, I meant not so busy in terms of work." He smiled, hoping it came across as encouraging. "I'm not working now, though. What can I do for you?"

"It's not for me, actually. You might not remember, but when we met at the shop the other day, Carl mentioned the Winter Festival?"

"Sure, I remember." If they'd known each other better, or at all, Remey might have teased Aleks and said something like, Oh, the one you don't think would be my thing. But they didn't, so he didn't, waiting for Aleks to go on.

"Well, I'm on the planning committee, and we met yesterday afternoon and..." Aleks looked uncomfortable still, and Remey had an idea he knew what was coming. "I got voted to be the one to approach you about maybe giving a concert as part of the festival. As a fundraiser. Since, you know, I'd already met you and all."

Remey smiled, sliding his hands into the pockets of his cardigan. He'd bet Aleks hadn't taken the assignment well, judging by the pained look on his face while he was standing on the porch. "A fundraiser for what?" Remey didn't like it, but he had to be careful about what he agreed to and had his name associated with. Not so much now as he had when he'd first gotten started, though.

Aleks shrugged. "We're looking to raise money to build a youth music center in the center of town. With arts programs in schools getting cut all the time, kids aren't getting the kind of well-rounded education they ought to be and it's a shame. I mean, if you can't, or you're not interested..."