My mouth curved. “Not if it means you stop creating.” I moved in closer, the smell of Brody’s soap and a hint of cedar filling my senses. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

He tipped his head down, his eyes searching my face. “Sit for me.”

I stiffened for a moment and then forced myself to relax. No more managers were stopping by to possibly abscond with my likeness. Lara was back in New York and several hundred thousand dollars lighter after settling out of court with Brody’s lawyer. She’d had to issue a public retraction of her statement, as well. “Okay.”

“One more thing.”

My lips pursed. “You’re very demanding today.”

Brody shrugged, the muscles in his shoulders flexing. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to play for me while you do.”

My fingers tugged at the cuffs of my sleeves, the movement sending a trickle of agony down my right arm. I instantly released my hold on the fabric, not wanting the pain to trigger a memory. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had an audience.”

“It’ll be good for you.”

I huffed. “And who are you? The expert on all things musical?”

Brody grinned, the movement socking me right in the gut. “I am an expert on getting out of your way. Art is meant to be shared, Shay. Trust me with yours.”

God, when he said it like that, how could I say no? “All right. Give me a minute to grab my violin.”

Brody nodded and immediately got to work setting up a new station. I cursed him and myself all the way to my guest house and back. I forced myself to keep a light hold on the instrument case or I surely would’ve snapped the handle in two. My mind wound through possible pieces to play. But nothing seemed right. Too predictable or too modern.

I set the case on a table and began the work of taking out and tuning the instrument. “I need you to tell me what to play.”

Brody’s brows rose. “That defeats half the purpose. The music you choose is part of the art, isn’t it?”

“It’s too much pressure.”

Brody came around from his easel and took my shoulders in his hands. “Breathe, Shay. Just breathe.” I followed his inhale and exhale. It wasn’t that my breathing was out of control, it was my mind. “Close your eyes.” I did as he instructed. “Picture yourself in your happiest place.”

“Here. On the beach. Watching the tide roll in. Or the waves when the sea gets rough.”

“Hmmmm.” Brody’s hand tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering there. “If you could picture yourself there, playing your violin, what would you be wearing?”

“A parka if it’s as cold as it is today.”