Beth was conspicuously missing from the tennis court at their usual lesson time. She usually beat Rio to the court, preferring to get extra warm up time in whenever she could. When Rio didn't see a message from her on his phone, he sent a quick text that he was waiting and went looking for her.

He didn't get far before deep, feathery music swept through the hallway, distracted him. The country club had a baby grand piano in an atrium room but it was rarely used. Most members preferred to spend their time at the bar or outdoor patio. Rio peeked around the doorway, curious to see the source. The room was dark, a few wall sconces and over head skylight surrounded the piano in a soft spotlight. What he saw made his breath catch, his chest tighten. Beth sitting at the piano. Her back was to him but he immediately recognized her shape, features, energy. She swayed lightly as she played, her hair catching shadows and light as she moved. Rio didn't know anything about piano or classical music but he was immediately caught up in the rich, sad notes. She was playing from memory, eyes closed, no sheet music in front of her. The melody flowed from her with ease. Music filled the room, surrounded them.

Beth was so lost in the moment that she didn't notice him walk toward her. He waited for her to stop before speaking.

"Didn't know you were a Mozart."

Rio spoke quietly, but Beth still whirled around, startled at the unexpected audience.

"Hardly," Beth blushed, hastily looked at her watch. "Sorry. I lost track of time."

Beth never noticed the piano in all the times she 'd been to the country club. Too focused on her tennis lessons – and beating Rio – to pay attention to anything else. She hadn't played in years but when she saw the piano on her way to the locker room she was drawn to it. Memories chased each other at the edges of her mind as she smoothed her hand over the shiny black surface, sat on the bench. Her piano lessons coincided with one of the rougher patches of her childhood. When her mom become more unavailable, her dad checked out even more.

Her fascination with piano started with Elton John and daydreams of playing just like him, colorful outfits and all. Beth initially hesitated about starting lessons, not because she was indecisive like Annie liked to believe, but because she knew it would mean spending money her parents didn't have. Annie never saw or understood that. Everything seemed so black and white to her because Beth made it that way for her, made it easy. Beth followed the rules, pinched pennies, did all the worrying so Annie didn't have to. But Beth's grandmother insisted, having a musical side herself as a member of her church choir, and offered to help pay for both the lessons and a piano. Beth gratefully accepted.

As a young girl, the piano was a magnificent thing to Beth. Enchanting keys, the contrast of black and white, and the sounds she could make from just her fingers. It didn't come naturally, she had to work at it, but she found a release at the piano, the music bubbling up from inside her out onto the keys. She liked looking at a sheet of music and knowing how it was going to sound. Life was messy, but music was certain, calming, beautiful.

"Sounds like those piano lessons paid off." Rio said with a small smile.

Rio remembered the contentious afternoon in Beth's kitchen, when she wanted to back out of washing money after Agent Turner spooked her. Annie gave Beth a hard time about backtracking, dredging up a three thousand dollar baby upright from their childhood. Rio didn't know a lot about Annie but he could tell she was a handful. From what he'd seen of them together, the side eyes and annoyed tones, Beth dealt with a lot when it came to her sister. Beth was the responsible, resourceful one. Annie was the wildcard. In his line of work, Rio didn't keep a lot of Annies around.

Beth paused and swallowed, surprised at the tears fighting the edges of her eyes, unexpectedly mourning a childhood she never really had. How had her life ended up like this? A cheating husband, broke, money laundering. Where had everything gone so wrong? But she didn't cry. She took a deep breath and turned to Rio.

"Why don't you try?"

"No. I don't play."

"Just a quick scale." Beth insisted to distract herself. "Here, let me show you."

Without waiting for his agreement, she slid off the bench and pulled Rio down onto it to take her place. Before he could object, she was adjusting his back, nudging him forward, giving his shoulders a squeeze.

"First, you have to be at the edge of the bench. No slumping. No hunching. Relax your shoulders"

Rio scooted forward, sat up straight. Beth's intense focus on him was disarming and adorable. The gentleness of her touch, the softness of her big blue eyes stood in contrast to the rigid firmness he usually saw from her.

"Good. Keep your elbows in front of you." Still from behind, Beth used her pointer fingers to push his elbows forward, leaned over his shoulder to adjust their placement. They were close. Close enough for her to see the speckles of light brown that broke up the dark pool of his eyes. Close enough for her entire body to heat from head to toe. Beth cleared her throat. "They shouldn't be by your side or sticking out."

"Perfect. Now finger placement." Beth continued, sitting down next to Rio to demonstrate. Her fingers moved over his, guided his thumb to the middle C, the others to the left and right. "You want to keep your thumbs flat but arch the rest of your fingers. You play piano with the tips of your fingers. Like this," she said, tapping his palms from underneath so his hands curved up.

Rio watched Beth instead of his hands, hypnotized by her touch. Beth always kept her distance from him, an invisible shield surrounding her at all times. With one memorable exception. Ever since that night in the bar bathroom he imagined what it would be like to touch her again. He stole his moments when he could. A brush of a hand, leaning in an inch more than necessary or appropriate. But here she was, inviting herself into his space, welcoming him into hers. Hip to hip, arm to arm on the small piano bench. And she was smiling at him. A rare event. Rio wanted to draw it out a little longer.

His eyes latched onto hers, studied her, wondering if he was imagining the flare of excitement in her expression. If she could be as turned on as he was from a simple piano lesson. He leaned into her until their mouths were only a breath apart.

Beth's heart bumped once, twice hard against her chest. Rio had such a strong face, Beth thought – strong angles, firm mouth, deep eyes. Only now did she notice her hand rested entirely on top of his. His tan and strong, hers pale and delicate. Pressure built in her chest, spread to her stomach as they sat there.

"We should get to the tennis court." She finally said, her throat dry, but she couldn't order herself to move.

"Yeah," Rio replied, not budging.

"We'll lose our court time."

"Wouldn't want that."

"Ready?"

For tennis? Sure. For this thing pulsing between them? Rio wasn't entirely sure. But this wasn't the time or place to entertain the steamy thoughts racing through his mind. Rio finally shifted, broke the spell. Giving in to the urge he brushed her hair away from her face.

"Sure. Wouldn't want to be better than you at piano and tennis."

He said it with his usual cocky grin and confidence. The combination that Beth hated to love.