5. Ivy #2
We went down to the music room. He pushed a button on a remote and music came through the speakers. I sat on one end of the sofa and tucked my feet under me. He took the chair across from me. Again, the perfect gentleman.
Then we started talking and didn’t stop for two hours. He told me more about his time on the singing show. How he met Madeleine and all the ways she changed the trajectory of his life. “And the boys too, even though Knox will never admit that Madeleine was the missing piece.”
I told him more about my three overprotective brothers.
“Waylon’s an athletic director at a high school.
Coaches football too. He’s the opposite of me.
Steady and calm. Always knows where his keys are.
I absolutely adore him and so does everyone else who ever meets him.
Caleb owns a construction company—builds custom homes.
He’s wildly talented and well-respected.
He got that from my dad. You’re not a small town plumber for long if you don’t deliver what you say you will.
Beau’s the youngest. He’s a firefighter and paramedic.
I’m so stinking proud of him, but I worry too.
Mama’s a wreck most of the time but she learned a long time ago that my brothers will do what they’re going to do. ”
“Are any of them married?” Jack asked.
“No, they all say they’ll never marry. Mama pretends like it’s not true, and we all let her. I don’t see them changing anytime soon. They’ll never settle down.”
“They might if they meet the right girl,” Jack said, holding my gaze a moment too long.
I flushed as a thousand butterflies let loose in my stomach.
We went on to talk about our early days in Nashville. Open mic nights. Songwriting sessions. “I met Hunter Sloan at an open mic. He spilled beer on me, cementing our friendship for all time.”
“You’ve written some good songs together,” Jack said. “Including the one we recorded today.”
“I spent some time in California with him a few months back,” I said. “That one came easy.”
“I’m glad you chose me to sing it with you.”
“Hunter and I wrote it with you in mind. Madeleine told us too. I think anyway. It was one of those build it and they will come kinds of things. She really wanted to get us together.”
“I’m starting to think she’s a genius.”
“I’ve known that for a long time,” I said. “Anyway, so I did a little research. Found an article about you that gave me some hints.”
“Is that where you got rain on a tin roof?” Jack asked.
“You mentioned that in an interview.”
“It’s a beautiful song,” Jack said. “I’m honored to sing it with you.”
“That was something else, wasn’t it? The one take? That’s never happened to me before.”
“Can’t say it has me either.”
“Maybe it means something. Fate—brought us together when we were ready to meet.”
“Sure seems that way,” Jack said.
At midnight, after a kiss, he said, “We should get some shut-eye.”
“We probably should.”
Neither of us moved. We started talking about award shows and how nerve-wracking they could be. “The hours it takes the team to put me together is sinful,” I said. “Not to mention the hairspray polluting the environment.”
“You always look stunning. But I like you this way too. No makeup. Hair all a mess.” He leaned in for another kiss.
At twelve-thirty, Jack said, “This is irresponsible. We have big days tomorrow.”
“Wildly irresponsible.”
We kissed again.
At one, I yawned, and he laughed at me.
“That’s it. We’re going to bed,” Jack said.
But somehow we kept talking. At one-thirty, we were both sitting on the floor with our backs against opposite ends of the sofa, a bowl of microwave popcorn between us, talking about songs we loved and songs we wished we’d written.
He told me he still got nervous before every show.
I told him I was almost always terrified the musicians I worked with would find out I couldn’t read music.
He asked me about my friendship with Hunter Sloan, which I described very specially as platonic, because it was.
“He just got married. To a romance author. It was the most wonderful thing to watch them fall in love. I wrote a song about it.”
“Play it for me tomorrow?”
“You got it,” I said.
At two in the morning, the words finally ran out.
Or maybe they didn’t run out. Maybe our hearts just got too full to carry any more.
Jack stood and stretched, his T-shirt pulling tight across his chest in a way that made me wish he’d crawl into bed next to me. Instead, we walked upstairs, stopping at the door to my guest room.
“I want to follow you in there, but this is special,” he said. “We can’t do anything to ruin it.”
“Agree.”
We kissed again. My lips were surely swollen.
“I’ll be in the room if you need anything,” Jack said.
“Thank you.”
“And I’ll leave my phone on.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m used to looking after myself,” I said.
“But maybe you could let me look after you a little?”
“That sounds nice.”
He reached for my hand and lifted it to his mouth, brushing a kiss over my knuckles. “Best night ever.”
“Swimming. Bologna quesadillas. Kissing the most handsome man I’ve ever met? I’d say so, yes.”
His grin came slow and devastating, the kind that could sell a million records and maybe break a girl’s common sense clean in half. “Goodnight, pretty girl.”
“Goodnight, Jack.”
After brushing my teeth and donning the T-shirt he’d left, which disappointedly smelled of only laundry detergent instead of him. I crawled into bed and fell asleep smiling.