Every Minute Read online

  Table of Contents

  Books by C.J. Burright

  Title Page

  Legal Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Read more from C.J. Burright

  More exciting books!

  About the Author

  Totally Bound Publishing books by C.J. Burright

  Music, Love and Other Miseries

  Every Kiss

  Music, Love and Other Miseries

  EVERY MINUTE

  C.J. BURRIGHT

  Every Minute

  ISBN # 978-1-913186-93-7

  ©Copyright C.J. Burright 2019

  Cover Art by Erin Dameron-Hill ©Copyright December 2019

  Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2019 by Totally Bound Publishing, United Kingdom.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.

  Totally Bound Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.

  Book one in the Music, Love and Other Miseries series

  Introverted teacher versus unstoppable violinist. She wants to be alone. He wants her heart. Let the games begin…

  After the unexpected death of her musician brother, third-grade teacher Adara buries her grief, avoids all music and vows to exist without attachments. Social solitude works perfectly…until she’s forced to share her classroom with the new music mentor, a man who rattles her carefully constructed cage and sparks emotions she prefers to keep chained.

  Always up for a challenge, violinist Garret is a master of patience and persistence, and the minute he meets Adara, he knows what he wants. Her sharp humor and haunted eyes inspire him in a way he’s never felt before. He makes it his mission to chip through her shields and breathe her back to life—no matter how hard she resists.

  Even as Adara struggles to keep Garret at a distance with each clash of wills, each smile he coaxes, each kiss he steals, her resistance crumbles. But when the past catches up with them both, they will discover that some promises are meant to be broken…and others are worth risking everything for.

  Dedication

  To Tatum, for irrevocably stealing a piece of my heart when, at the tender age of six, you stomped in and screeched, “Get the hell out of my kitchen.”

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Darth Vader: Lucasfilm Ltd. Corporation

  Jeopardy!: Jeopardy Productions Inc. dba Merv Griffin Enterprises Corporation

  Thunderstruck: Angus Young, Malcolm Young

  Thor: Marvel Comics Group

  Kashmir: Jimmy Page, Robert Plant, John Bonham

  Wherever I May Roam: James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich

  Toy Story: Buena Vista Pictures Distribution

  He’s a Pirate: Klaus Badelt, Hans Zimmer

  Somebody to Love: Freddy Mercury

  (Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear: Kal Mann, Bernie Lowe

  Think of Me: Andrew Lloyd Webber, Charles Hart

  The Phantom of the Opera: Andrew Lloyd Webber, Richard Stilgoe, Charles Hart

  Star Wars: Lucasfilm Ltd. Corporation

  Skype: Skype Technologies SA Group

  Toy Story: Buena Vista Pictures Distribution

  The Wizard of Oz: Lowe’s Inc.

  The A-Team: Frank Lupo, Stephen J. Cannell

  Velcro: Velcro Industries B.V. LLC

  Pride and Prejudice: Jane Austen

  Peter Pan: J.M. Barrie, Disney Enterprises Inc.

  The Addams Family: Charles Addams

  Maserati: Maserati S.p.A.

  Peppermint Pattie: The Hershey Company

  Name That Tune: Station Syndication Inc., Sandy Frank Film Syndication Inc.

  Google: Google Inc.

  With or Without You: U2

  Red Is the Rose: Tommy Makem, R. Burns

  Misguided Angel: Margo Timmins, Michael Timmins

  The Devil Went Down to Georgia: Charlie Daniels Band

  World Stand Still: The Tenors

  I Knew I Loved You: Daniel Jones, Darren Hayes

  Facebook: Facebook Inc.

  Twitter: Twitter Inc.

  YouTube: Google Inc.

  Frankenstein: Mary Shelly

  Vaseline: CONOPCO Inc.

  Wanted Dead or Alive: Jon Bon Jovi, Richie Sambora

  Enter Sandman: Kirk Hammett, James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich

  Curtis Institute of Music: Mary Louise Curtis Bok

  The Julliard School: The Julliard Foundation

  The Four Seasons: Antonio Vivaldi

  Converse: Converse Inc.

  Wookie: Lucasfilm Ltd. Corporation

  Chewbacca: Lucasfilm Ltd. Corporation

  Shrek: Dreamworks Animation LLC

  Girls Just Want to Have Fun: Robert Hazard

  Salvation Army: The Salvation Army International

  The Richter Scale: Richter, Jake Individual

  Game of Thrones: David Benioff, David Weiss, HBO, George R.R. Martin

  CSI: King World Productions, CBS Television Distribution

 
; The Hardy Boys: Edward Stratemeyer, Franklin W. Dixon

  Doc Martens: Dr. Martens International Trading GmbH Corporation

  Charlie Brown: Charles M. Schulz

  Polo: PRL USA Holdings Inc.

  ESPN: Disney Enterprises Inc.

  U2: Not Us Limited Corporation

  A Whole New World: Alan Menken, Tim Rice

  Back in Black: Angus Young, Malcolm Young

  Welcome Wagon: SFM Acquisition LLC

  Popsicle: Unilever United States

  Clue: Hasbro Inc.

  iPod: Apple Inc.

  Bad: Michael Jackson

  Spiderman: Marvel Characters Inc.

  Por Una Cabeza: Carlos Gardel, Alfredo Le Pera

  Chapter One

  Adara never should’ve made any deathbed promises to her brother. Pebbles cracked like bones beneath her heels as she trudged between the boxwood hedging the country club’s parking lot. If she hadn’t made a sacred vow to accept all social invites from Gia, her brother’s wildly still-alive girlfriend, she wouldn’t be facing the torture of another Hamilton & Associates Belated Yule Celebration…in February. Apparently with prestige and power came the ability to reschedule Christmas.

  She slipped between two cars too expensive to breathe on, the glowing mansion lights guiding her. While only a few miles out of town, the country club felt another universe away, especially tonight. Over a year had screamed by in a blur, and it felt like no time had passed since she’d walked this same path—same shoes, same black dress.

  Different Adara.

  She bit her lip. Nope, not going there. Especially not tonight when she had to cope in public.

  The rolling pebbles gave way to smooth courtyard pavestones. Gia waited beside the gurgling center fountain with one hip cocked, cute as always in an eye-burning red sequin-and-chiffon number.

  “Halloween was two months ago.” Gia arched one perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow. “What happened to classic winter white?”

  Adara slogged the last few steps between them. No slinking away now. Gia would send out the SWAT team to track her and was more than willing to take her down at gunpoint. “Black is appropriate for every occasion. Besides, it encompasses all colors.”

  “So does a black hole.” Gia batted her spiked lashes, not at all innocent.

  “You’re right.” Adara spun back toward her car. “I’ll go home and change.”

  “Not even.” Gia lunged and latched onto her arm, bringing a breeze of spicy perfume. “I anticipated your usual wardrobe tragedy and came prepared.” With her free hand, she dug in her clutch and whipped out a strip of shiny material. “Hold still or I’ll smack you.”

  Adara reluctantly obeyed while Gia wrapped a festive green and red plaid sash around her waist and cinched it tight, Christmas resurrected two months too late. She resisted cringing when Gia’s scrutiny lifted from the ribbon to her zero-makeup face.

  That blonde eyebrow went up again. Faster than any sharp-shooter, Gia popped open a tube of scarlet lipstick and held it to Adara’s mouth like a weapon. “Resistance is futile. Clown or glam, Dar. Your choice.”

  Resistance was tempting. A circus look might keep people back. Then again, looking deranged would give people even more reason to talk. Some secrets didn’t need to be shared. She glared as a matter of principle.

  “I knew you could be rational.” The makeup session was over in three seconds. Gia smiled, triumphant. “There. You’re perfect.”

  “Perfect for what?” Adara didn’t bother hiding the snarl in her voice.

  “To be out in the world of the living.” The words were teasing but Gia’s tone was gentle, understanding.

  A single pang pierced her heart, sharp as any arrow, so fierce it threatened to steal her breath. It was an improvement, though. A year ago, the pain had been nonstop, debilitating. She managed a hoarse whisper. “I never should’ve made that promise to him.”

  “As if you had a choice.” Gia snorted, thankfully ignoring her emotional slip. “Joey could’ve persuaded a nun to strip—and she’d be the one paying him. He knew you’d stay in your one-person bubble forever unless he coerced your immortal oath to truly live after he”—her throat worked and her smile wobbled for a second—“after he left.”

  Adara focused on the mansion’s pillared entrance. She wanted to think about her brother’s death almost as much as she wanted to be at this party. She cleared her throat and the shadow of sorrow with it. “Truly living equals soirées with stuffed suits using liquid cheer as an excuse for lewd behavior? Dance moves my mind can’t possibly unsee? Dodging covertly placed mistletoe and any awaiting tongues?”

  “Tonight it does.” Gia looped her arm through Adara’s and tugged her up the brick stairs. “Show me you still know how to smile.”

  She bared her teeth.

  Gia shuddered. “Forget it. Just look pretty and focus on your goal.”

  “I have a goal?” She thought merely showing up was a victory.

  “Yep. Be nice.”

  “I’m nice.”

  “To plants and children, not so much to adult humans.”

  Plants and children were easy. They didn’t expect deep conversation or emotional displays. Adara dragged her feet, the mansion close enough to spill hints of the party happening inside. Red and green lights blinked through the windows onto the stone sidewalk, and buzzing chatter filtered free with the occasional laugh. No music yet. Once the band started, she might fake an excuse to leave. Not even General Gia was heartless enough to make her stay and suffer if particular music started playing.

  “Cheer up, Dar.” Gia squeezed her arm as she opened the great iron door, freeing a wave of warm air. “Ian will be here.”

  Adara almost growled. Ian, the lawyer with the supersonic smile who’d taken advantage of Gia’s grief at last year’s party… Scum-sucking dirtbag shark. “Perfect. I can castrate him for Christmas. It’s never too late for gifts.”

  Gia paused in the foyer and stared at her. “Honestly, don’t smile. I like my job. If you give Mr. Hamilton a heart attack, I’ll have to be your teacher’s aide, and you know I’m allergic to chalk and children.”

  Closing the door behind them, Adara drew a long breath laced with pine and cinnamon. “Let the fun begin.”

  * * * *

  Garret dumped his leather jacket over his violin case and straightened his white button-down shirt. He hadn’t even changed after the plane had landed, instead loading his luggage and instruments into a rental, confirming Ian’s obnoxious email invite a second time and heading here, Millionaire Estates. Ian probably thought he’d flake—and maybe he should—but it had been years since they’d met up, years since he’d been home, and performing a few numbers at a postponed holiday work party was the recharge kickoff he needed.

  Hushed laughter drifted into the coat room, the intimate sound easing the last travel tension from his shoulders, whispering he’d made the right choice in returning. Not that he doubted his decision… The second he’d stepped onto pavement, energy had buzzed through his boots like lightning. Three years on the overseas concert circuit and its large audience disconnect had stolen a piece of him.

  He was home to take it back—with interest.

  Tucking his violin and bow beneath one arm, Garret entered the candlelit hallway draped in clove-laced garlands and followed the soft pulse of ’60s music. It had been too long since he’d celebrated Christmas with family or friends, and he didn’t mind rewinding a couple of months, another catch-up on things he’d missed while on tour. This particular bash had been going on for at least an hour, long enough for pleasantly toasted guests to miss any latecomers sliding in for the festivities but not so much that the old-timers had taken off.

  He wandered through the double-door entrance and the holiday aura washed through him. People were gathered in talking packs, either standing or sitting, most with a bottle or glass in hand. More danced to the Beach Boys song blasting from unseen speakers. Even with Garret’s height advantage, Ian would be
hard to spot. A medley of glitter and glass dazzled from every direction, dominated by a giant tree with twinkling tinsel and obnoxious ornaments, its pine scent a reminder of Christmases past.

  Attention on the crowd, searching for a hint of Ian, Garret eased past chatting people and around tables decorated with cinnamon-scented pinecones. He bumped into something and caught his balance just as a giant plastic reindeer nosedived. Tail in the air, it fell at the feet of a woman leaning against the wall, paying homage from the tip of its blinking red nose. For a brief, searing moment, her gaze met his.

  The festival of chaos and colors faded into the background, leaving room for only her. She blended with the shadows, as if hoping to vanish with the night. Sorrow haunted her eyes, a thousand notes trapped.

  Garret blinked and the moment passed. Ben-zonna. His favorite foreign curse fit the occasion. A thousand notes trapped? That was remarkably sappy, even for him.

  No smile, no words, she picked up the glittering Rudolph monstrosity and settled all four twinkling hooves solidly on the floor. Without looking at him again, she resumed watching the other people like they were on a carousel revolving around her, moving too fast to touch.

  Anyone who could make his world stand still for even a heartbeat demanded at least an introduction. Keeping his violin protectively close, he eased past the reindeer decoration and mimicked her wallflower pose, barely a foot separating them.

  She didn’t acknowledge him, her laser-point focus set on something or someone in the crowd.

  Garret followed her gaze and hid a groan. Of course it had to be Ian. His childhood friend mingled with a cluster of women wearing Santa hats and short skirts. All smiles and hands, Ian played his part. Interestingly enough, his glances kept straying to the petite blonde in the red dress another conversation group away.

  He leaned slightly in the woman’s direction. “So is it Ian or the blonde in red?”

  The barely-there pursing of her generous crimson lips promised she’d heard, and the following silence went on long enough to mark a protest. She sighed softly, not sparing him a glance. “What?”