Chapter 15
Avery owned exactlyone dress and Shane had already seen her wear it. He’d actually been on it, under it. He’d shoved it up over her waist, and torn it off over her head. There was no way he wasn’t going to recognize it, unless he was the most unobservant man on the planet. The last thing in the world she wanted was for him to think that she was trying to trigger his memories of that night, but Pat had told her no jeans. To dress nice. The lace dress was the only thing she had in Nashville that fit the bill.
So she arrived at the restaurant five minutes early in the white dress, her sweating palms clutching her purse. Inside it was the business card Shane had given her, and she had flicked the corner back and forth so many times it was dangling like a hangnail. She had debated calling him, begging him not to flirt with her tonight, but there had been no reasonable way to do that without sounding like a lunatic. Since he was determined to be suggestive, she was equally determined to be all business.
Pat was waiting for her near the hostess station. “You look cute,” she told her. “Just remember, smile, be friendly, let Mr. Hart take the lead, and if you have any questions or concerns, wait and run them by me after dinner.”
“Got it.” She wanted nothing more than to be respected as a songwriter and to make a living at it. There was no way she was going to screw this up or jeopardize her future.
“If he offers you a drink, say no. Or order it but don’t drink it. I’m sure you’re nervous and it would be far too easy to get drunk and that’s no good.”
“Right.” She nodded again. “Do you think he’s actually serious about having Jolene Hart hear this song?” She couldn’t bring herself to refer to the singer as just Jolene. It lent a familiarity that Avery wasn’t entitled to.
Pat laughed. “Yes. A resounding yes. In five years I’ve never seen him pick up more than a half dozen songs and none of those writers were treated to dinner. So for whatever reason, he’s feeling this and you need to be damn grateful.”
“I am.” She was. She hoped like hell it had nothing to do with the fact that they had hooked up. That was her fear but she couldn’t share that with Pat, so her question was pointless. It was a wait and see.
Shane walked into the restaurant. He was wearing jeans, which aggravated Avery. Why couldn’t she wear jeans if he was wearing jeans? But he was in charge and she was the one trying to sell him a song. Damn double standards. Especially since when his gaze landed on her, his eyes narrowed, darkened. The smile he had been wearing fell off his face, and he took her in, head to toe. That seemed more than a little obvious to her, but she was extra self-conscious. Pat probably didn’t think a thing about it.
She glanced at her boss. Wrong. Pat was studying them both, gaze shifting back and forth, awareness dawning on her. As embarrassing as it was to have Pat think that Shane was interested in her for more than her songwriting skills, she had to assume Pat would discourage fraternization, so she would be a perfect willing buffer. It would be better if Shane were even attempting to be discreet, but he wasn’t.
“Nice dress,” he said as a greeting. “Very…white.”
Oh, geez. She prayed that her cheeks weren’t tomato red.
“Thanks,” Avery managed to squeak out.
But he just turned and held his hand out for Pat to shake.
The restaurant was fortunately on the noisy side, waitresses bustling back and forth with loaded baskets of hot wings and ribs. Pat and Shane carried the conversation, talking about people she didn’t know and what was new and upcoming in the industry. They talked digital technology, the future of stadium tours, trends in music. Avery just listened and absorbed it all in awe, nodding on occasion, but mostly hoping like hell she would remember everything that was said. It was like a college education for a musician, an opportunity she couldn’t have even imagined she would have been afforded this soon on her journey. Even if Shane only wanted to flirt, and didn’t do a damn thing with her song, she had learned more in an hour with him than she had spending years on the outside looking in.
But eventually the conversation was turned to her.
“Tell me about yourself,” Shane said. “What did you do back in Kentucky?”
Avery took a sip of her water and tried not to reflect on the fact that she had never said she was from Kentucky during the course of dinner. Pat was probably wondering how in the hell he knew that. Then again, maybe no one gave a shit and she was just paranoid.
“I was a waitress, and I worked at the stables part-time. I love horses.”
“Nothing in the music industry?”
She shook her head. “There is no music industry where I’m from. Not even live bands at the local bars. Folks are more into the DJ-style line dances.”
“What are you hoping to accomplish here in Nashville then?” He had finished a dozen of the five-alarm hot wings and two beers and was sitting back like he had all the time in the world. It sounded like an interview question, yet he looked casual. Only vaguely interested.
Avery couldn’t read the vibe at all so she told herself that Shane was like any other potential employer. Which meant she should be professional, reserved, but friendly. “My goal is to be able to fully support myself as a songwriter. To be given the opportunity to work with musicians and singers and someday hear a song of mine sung at an arena-sized venue and at an awards show.” Might as well go for broke, right?
His eyebrows rose. “You’re confident. I’ll give you that.”
That made her cheeks burn. Had he expected her to downplay her ultimate ambitions? “I don’t think it’s confidence so much as it is desire.”
“Desire is an interesting word.” He flagged the waitress down and ordered another beer.
Avery didn’t know him well enough to gauge if he was buzzed or not, but she knew for sure she would be if she’d had two beers in less than an hour. She also couldn’t tell what he meant by that abstract comment. “I can think of much more interesting words than desire,” she said. “That one is overused, I admit.”
“Then give me a more interesting word.”
“Brouhaha. That’s a good word.”
Pat and Shane both laughed. “Try fitting that into a song.”
“I didn’t think we were talking about lyrics.” She didn’t really know what they were talking about, but she didn’t like feeling like she was being grilled by someone who wasn’t clear in his intentions.
“You’re right, I guess we weren’t talking about songwriting. Just the desire behind it.” He smiled. “Okay, so here’s my contribution—canoodle.”
It figured he would reference kissing and hugging.
“That’s a good one. Pat, how about you? Have a favorite weird word?” she asked.
Her boss gave an amused smile. “Comeuppance. I always wanted to just give someone a good old-fashioned comeuppance, you know?”
“That’s a solid word,” Avery told her.
“What’s the dirtiest non-dirty word you can think of?” Shane asked.
“I have no idea,” Pat said. “Wait. Filth?”
“Nice. Not the direction I was thinking, but I like it. Clever. Avery?”
“Tittynope.”
He looked at her blankly. “What the hell?” He started laughing again. “That’s not a word.”
“It is so! I’m the Scrabble queen of Rock Creek, Kentucky. It means a small quantity of something left over. Like my fries.” She gestured to her plate.
Shane shook his head. “I don’t believe you. That is totally made up.”
“Google it!” She smiled back at him, enjoying being on equal footing with him for a change. At the office she had felt too off-kilter, too aware of his status as producer, hers as nobody wannabe.
“I’m going to.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. A few swipes and he was making a face. “Holy crap, it really is a word. I guess from now on I will be tittynoping everywhere I go.”
That made her laugh. “It’s not a verb. You can’t tittynope.”
“Really, now that you say it like that, I don’t think I want to tittynope. I want to tittyyep.”
“Oh, lord,” Pat said, struggling not to laugh. “This escalated quickly.”
“Avery started it,” he said, pointing straight at her over the table.
“I did not.” Though she had thrown the word “titty” into the conversation. She couldn’t deny that. Probably not her wisest choice, though in the grand scheme of stupid things she had done involving Shane she doubted this would be the one that ruined her life. “You brought up dirty words.”
“True. Okay, I accept full responsibility for turning the tide into something else entirely.” He winked at her.
He mother-freaking winked at her in front of Pat. She wasn’t one for a whole lot of swearing, especially cuss words involving mothers, but this deserved a mental cuss word. Shane was just a charming-as-hell man and she was no match for him. But considering what was at stake, she was damn sure going to try to volley the ball right back to him.
“Is there something in your eye?” she asked, pointedly. “It’s twitching.”
Shane grinned and drained his beer. “Maybe that’s my cue to get the check and let you ladies have the rest of your evening to ponder tittynope.”
That made her snort before she could stop herself. Pat shot her a look, then smiled back at Shane. “Thank you for dinner, Shane, it was delicious.”
“My pleasure.” He glanced at her boss. “Monday morning I’ll have Jolene and Chance in at nine for a demo. You can email the paperwork over to my office in advance.”
“Excellent.”
Avery wasn’t even sure what that meant exactly, but she thought it was good news. She thought it meant that someone would perform her song for Jolene Hart and Chance Rivers, which was downright amazing. One, because they were the big time. This wasn’t a struggling singer or a duo on the rise. They were established, big stars. Two, because Chance was her half-brother and she had never in a million years expected to be face-to-face with him. It was nerve-wracking on so many levels. Exciting. But intimidating as hell.
As soon as the check was taken care of, Pat was up out of her seat and urging them both to the door. Maybe she thought they had taken up too much of Shane’s time, or she had other plans, but whatever it was, she was hustling. There were thank yous and goodbyes, and then Pat was glancing at her phone and swearing under her breath.
“Shane, would you mind seeing Avery out? I just got a text from my babysitter that my daughter has a high fever. She had one yesterday but she seemed better this morning.”
Avery hadn’t been at Rusted Truck long but she knew that Pat had struggled with infertility and that her daughter was her miracle child at forty. She had her office peppered with photos of little Sunday. Avery had no doubt she’d want to get right home to her.
“Oh, geez,” she said. “I hope she feels better soon.”
“Thanks.” But then as she was leaving, Pat squeezed Avery’s arm and gestured toward Shane.
“What?” Avery murmured.
“Don’t stay too long,” Pat said under her breath. “Or go anywhere alone with him.”
Her eyes widened. Did she actually think that Shane was some kind of danger to her? “I don’t plan on it.”
“That didn’t sound right. I wasn’t implying you’re not professional. Or that Shane can’t be trusted. Just don’t get swept away, you know what I’m saying?” Pat looked at her, concern in her eyes.
Too late. But as far as tonight was concerned, Pat had no reason to worry. Avery didn’t have time to nod or react in any other way, before Pat was out the door with lots of blown kisses and waves.
“I think you’ve been ditched,” Shane said, his hands in his pockets. His hair had fallen into his eyes and he tossed it back. “You’re stuck with me.”
“I’ll just grab a cab. That’s how I got here. I don’t have a car.” She took a slow step backwards, not sure what else to do.
“Then come here and say goodbye,” he said, putting his hands out and opening his arms as he closed the distance between them.
Holy crud, he was going to hug her. He was going to pull her against his chest and hug her and it was not professional in any way. It was what friends who had known each other in the business for years did. Longtime co-workers out socially. Lovers. Not casual acquaintances. But it was already happening so she had to go with and hope it was loose and quick, which really were two words she never wanted applied to Shane, but in this case were necessary.
But no. It wasn’t either of those things. It was close and firm and it lingered on and on while she smelled his cologne and the beer he’d been drinking. While she was overwhelmed by the memory of what it had felt like to be held by him after sex, her head easily resting on his chest, as though it belonged there. While she pondered the cruel irony of discovering her first lover was the man who may or may not hold the key to her career success and yet all she wanted to do was tilt her head up and offer him her mouth.
Then offer him her body.
But she was going to resist temptation, even if it killed her.
When he softly kissed her temple, she was sure it would.