Chapter 10
Ivy listened as Dax played three more songs for her. With each one, his confidence grew stronger.
Whoever his wife had been, she was a fool to have ever let this man go.
It was not her place to push Dax to reveal more about his broken marriage. Ivy only knew that his divorce had been fairly recent since he had left Dallas after it and come to Lost Creek. The coffeehouse had only been open for about two months, and she knew he had done construction work on its interior before that. She had no idea how long it took for a divorce to go through in Texas, but she assumed his marriage had been dissolved sometime last year.
It worried her—if downright frightened her—to become involved with a man who was still so emotionally raw. The hurt in Dax’s eyes when he had shared that his wife had told him she might not ever have loved him had almost done Ivy in. If she felt that way, how much stronger did Dax’s emotions run?
There was no hiding the fact that she was strongly attracted to him. He was, without a doubt, the best-looking man who had ever given her a second look. But the connection she felt to Dax went more than skin-deep. She seemed to have found her way into his soul, the same as he had done with her. She found Dax intelligent. Interesting. Humorous. Sensitive.
Could two lost, damaged souls find their way, not only to one another, but discover a path to happiness?
Ivy was willing to give things a try.
She hoped she wasn’t drawn to him simply out of loneliness. She realized how empty her life had been since her last relationship ended so dismally. It caused her to lose all faith in men, and she focused her energies on herself and her life goals. She had done well in college and then extremely well professionally at the art gallery. Now, however, she had come home to Lost Creek. The place was like a balm to her soul, and Ivy wondered if she were home to stay. She decided she would give herself not only time to reconnect with her art but equal time to see if she might make a start with Dax.
He finished playing his song and stood, setting down his guitar on the chair. He came toward her and smiled tentatively, taking a seat at the café table where she sat.
“I’ve bored you enough for one evening. What did you honestly think?”
Ivy had not commented after hearing that first song. Instead, she had listened carefully to both the music and lyrics.
“Your talent is incredible, Dax,” she told him. “Your lyrics really speak to a person’s heart. The music you’ve written to accompany them is the perfect marriage. I told you I love your tone, but you only have a good voice. Not a great one. You make up for it, though, with the emotion you infuse as you sing.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you for your honesty. I haven’t sung aloud in a very long time. I might be able to get a little better with practice.”
“I know Sylvia Moore, the high school choir teacher, used to give private lessons during the summer when I was growing up. She might still be doing so. It wouldn’t hurt to meet with her and take a lesson or two. Do you have any formal voice training?”
“None. I wasn’t even in choir in school. I was never involved in any extracurricular activities. I was too busy hustling, trying to make a dollar. I’ve suspected that my songwriting skills were better than my voice. Do you think I sing well enough to at least perform here at the coffeehouse?”
She reached and took his hand, squeezing it encouragingly. “You should definitely sing here. And if you did form a local band, you would be good enough to perform and sing with it, too. I think you would have a better chance, however, selling your songs to others instead of singing them yourself. Is that your eventual goal? To make a living via music?”
He shrugged. “I’m making this up as I go along, Ivy. Yes, years ago I did want a career as a performer. I never saw myself having a Top 40 hit. My ambition wasn’t that lofty. I just wanted to play in local clubs. At weddings. That kind of thing. Be a journeyman musician and singer and be able to make enough to support myself and my family.”
Dax raked his hands through his hair, and she knew he had more to say as he was thinking aloud. Ivy kept silent. She had always been a terrific listener, and she was determined to remain one for Dax.
“I feel I lost out on a lot of years because of Shailene. I do see things from her point of view. I can understand how scary it must have been for her to hear that I wanted to walk away from a lucrative position and salary for the unknown. I realize now that it didn’t have to be all or nothing. We should have compromised, letting me see if I could find and play gigs on the weekends, while I kept the day job. She sold real estate and was gone a lot on the weekends, anyway. It wouldn’t have cut into much of our time together.”
He paused. “Reflecting on the situation in hindsight, I see that I was immature. I didn’t have the communication skills necessary to voice what I needed. Shailene was a very strong personality. She had rock-hard opinions and was never one to change her mind about any issue. I see now that we really weren’t that good a match, even from the beginning. She didn’t listen to me, the way you do. You have from the moment we met, Ivy. That’s one thing I truly appreciate about you. You see me for myself. You don’t judge. I guess with you being a fellow artist, you understand where I’m coming from. We’re both people who put on hold something we love to do. Something that feeds a creative need within us.”
Dax’s gaze met hers. “I think this will be a much healthier relationship than my marriage because we will support one another and the art we wish to pursue.”
“I believe you should sing and play here this coming Saturday night,” she encouraged. “I’ll also look into whether or not Miss Moore is giving voice lessons, so you have that option to explore.”
“Thank you for your encouragement. Your support.” Standing, he added, “I’m going to grab something to drink. Singing is thirsty work. Do you want anything?”
“No, I still have half my tea to finish.”
While Dax went to the bar, Ivy Googled and found that Sylvia Moore had retired from teaching, but she still was giving music lessons, both voice and piano. She copied the link and started to text it to Dax when she realized that she didn’t even have his cell number yet. Again, she hoped they weren’t jumping into a relationship too quickly.
He joined her again, setting down a tall tumbler. She looked at it.
“What did you make yourself?”
“It’s too late for caffeine, so I went with a chaga tea. Actually, I drink quite a bit of it because it’s good for boosting your immune system and keeping down your blood pressure.”
“What’s your cell number?” she asked, having already set up an entry for him.
He reeled the number off, and she read it back to him to make certain she had it correct.
“I’m sending you a link to Miss Moore’s website. She’s no longer teaching but has continued to give lessons.”
“I’ll call her first thing tomorrow morning,” Dax said. “If she can work me in, I’ll see her. Maybe I should wait until I’ve touched base with her before I decide whether or not to perform this coming weekend.”
Ivy knew his confidence was still a bit shaky, especially because he’d never performed live in front of an audience.
“You’re the owner. You’re the one hiring the talent. You can go on stage whenever you feel like it, whether it’s this Saturday or a month from now.”
“Enough about me,” Dax said. “I want to talk something over with you. Get your input.”
She saw his eyes lit with excitement. “What’s this brilliant idea you’ve come up with?”
“Are you familiar with an art walk?” he asked.
“Of course,” she replied. “It’s fairly common in smaller towns, ones which have a true artists’ colony. College towns, too.”
“I thought of having a fusion night. One which brings together live music and art from surrounding talent. We could hang the art on the walls of the coffeehouse. Even sell it. I could also seek musicians in the area to play in an open mic.”
“Dax, that is a wonderful idea,” Ivy exclaimed. “Mixing the magic of music with art. To be honest, I had actually thought about giving you the painting of Lost Creek Lake to hang here. Another way to advertise my art. These fusion nights could not only help me, they would definitely spotlight other artists in the Hill Country.”
She thought a moment. “I know an art gallery opened on Main Street a few years ago. I’ve never been inside it, much less met the owner, but maybe we could go together and talk with him about this combination of art and music. I’d thought about approaching him when I had half a dozen or more paintings completed, but your idea is too good to sit on. It’s also almost summer. Traffic in the Hill Country really picks up during the season, especially on weekends. People travel the region, doing wine tastings and antiquing, scheduling getaways at all of the many bed and breakfasts in the area. You could hold one of these fusion nights several times a month. Once word got out, I think Java Junction would be packed. It’s something locals would enjoy supporting, and it would give tourists something fun and different to do while they were in Lost Creek.”
They talked about it for another hour, Ivy showing him places they could hang paintings, and then changed her mind, suggesting that artists bring in their easels and display their work in that manner.
“That way, you wouldn’t even have to mess up your walls, having to hang different artwork each time. In fact, I’d go with easels exclusively, though your walls are a little blank now and could use a little love.”
“I want to buy the painting of Lost Creek Lake from you,” Dax said, ignoring her immediately protest. “You’re right. My walls are sparse. I thought more about the flooring and furniture and the coffees I’d serve rather than the entire ambience of the place. Your painting of Lost Creek Lake is the first I’ve seen of yours, Ivy. It will always hold a special place in my heart. I would be honored to put it on permanent display.”
“I won’t sell it to you, Dax, but I will gift it to you. Take it or leave it.”
He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “I’d be a fool to pass up a free painting from the soon to be famous Ivy Hart,” he teased.
His eyes darkened, filled with desire.
Desire for her.
She had never had a man look at her the way Dax Tennyson did. Even though she had been in love with Jay Ridley and thought he loved her, her college boyfriend had never studied her with such intensity. Her body grew warm from the heat of his against hers.
And the heat of her own desire rippling through her.
Ivy had never been one to initiate a kiss, always being the one to accept it and go with the flow, but she wanted this man. Desperately.
Turning, she wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him down to her.
The kiss started gently but quickly ignited. His arms came about her, holding her flush against him, making it obvious that he wanted her. They kissed greedily, as if they had only been given a handful of minutes and tried to make the most of them.
He broke the kiss. “Want to come upstairs?” he asked, his voice low and rough.
She didn’t know exactly what the invitation included. Certainly, more kissing. Possibly, making love. No matter what Dax had in mind, Ivy was ready to take advantage of this time with him.
Without hesitating, she answered, “Yes.”
Suddenly, she was swept off her feet. He carried her behind the barista bar and through an opening, where he mounted a staircase that led to his apartment above the coffeehouse.
Opening the door, he stepped inside, kicking it closed with a foot. The curtains were open, and moonlight streamed into the apartment. She could make out a sofa. A chair. A coffee table.
He didn’t turn on a light, instead carrying her to the sofa and sitting, keeping her in his lap. Ivy lost track of time as they kissed. She had never kissed a man this long before. This deeply. This intimately. They still had all their clothes on, and yet she felt as if he made love to her with his mouth and tongue. She felt cherished in a way she never had experienced before.
Dax finally broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers.
“You taste divine,” he said, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t catch the words.
Running her fingers through his hair, she said, “I never knew kissing could be this satisfying.” She placed her lips against his and kissed him gently. “I’ve never kissed anyone for this long.”
“I haven’t either. But I could kiss you all night, Professor.”
“Maybe I’ll let you,” she said seductively.
Their mouths joined together again, tongues mating, euphoria soaring. She liked that they only kissed. She enjoyed it—and she liked discovering what pleased him from the sounds he made. She knew he, too, was learning all about her and what she liked.
He ended the kiss again, and Ivy’s head fell to his shoulder. They sat together a long time, her palm against his beating heart. It had been racing but now slowed to a steady pace.
Dax stroked her hair. “I hope you don’t mind that we kept it at kissing. I told you we’d go slowly.”
“I appreciate that,” she told him. “I know we still have a lot to learn about one another.”
He looked at her intently. “I’ll never rush you, Ivy.” His thumb caressed her bottom lip. “I want this to work.”
“I do, too,” she said quietly, realizing she might actually have a future with this man.
Something she hadn’t foreseen, yet she couldn’t imagine her life without Dax in it.
“You need to get home,” he said, kissing her once more. “That sister of yours will be worrying about where you are.”
Ivy snorted. “Harper is in bed with Braden now. She isn’t keeping tabs on me.”
“It’s still time for you to go home. Thank you for coming to listen to me play tonight.”
“You shared a part of you no one else has heard. That was brave,” she said. “Soon, you’ll be sharing your songs with many other people.” She brushed the back of her fingers against his cheek. “But I feel special that I was the first to hear you play and sing.”
Dax studied her a long moment and then said, “I hope we’ll have a lot of firsts together, Ivy.”
She hoped for the very same thing.