Chapter Eight
“You two are quiet tonight,” says Grandma, with her phone in hand. She’s been busy with sudoku.
Darkness settled in an hour ago and stars hang high above.
Nash is seated on the outdoor couch opposite us, with his guitar in his lap.
He’s been playing for a while, but not singing.
I have yet to hear his voice in person—aside from his karaoke appearance.
But it’s nice to know my knowledge of country music isn’t completely trash, since I recognize some of the songs.
“We’re probably quiet because we’re thinking deep thoughts.” My original intention was to read a romance. However, watching Nash play guitar has taken precedence. “Is that by Brandi Carlile?”
He nods and gives me a smile. One that feels like it’s just for me. “‘The Story’,” he says.
“It’s beautiful.”
There’s been no discussion between us about what happened at the grocery store.
He kissed me and then we went about our business.
Which was weird. I tried to work and got nowhere.
He went out somewhere in his car. I think the kiss meant something, but I’m not sure what.
It no doubt dissuaded Amy from making a move.
And it bolsters our story of togetherness.
His theory regarding me being jealous was proven to be spot the fuck on.
Ugh.
I know I’m overthinking it. Like to the moon and back. He might have just been in a kissing mood and there I was. Though it’s probably that it means we both want more.
So now is the time to start worrying about next steps.
Just really fixating on this shit. Such as who should make a move, etcetera.
It’s strange to be pondering such things after the breakup messing with my head so recently.
My ex is as gone as can be and I’m good with his absence.
Someone else taking over my thoughts so soon is still a lot though.
And doing anything in Grandma’s house against her wishes feels wrong.
The whole point of me being here was to build stronger ties with her.
That kiss though…it was an eleven. I can’t recall another time when I was so in the moment.
When my focus on what was happening was as all-consuming.
His mouth on mine and the feel of his shirt fisted in my hands.
How he held my face and the heat and hardness of his big body against mine.
Then there’s the taste of him and how it went straight to my head.
“I’m not thinking deep thoughts, in case anyone is interested,” says the object of both my affections and smuttiest thoughts. His fingers gently plucking at the strings of the gorgeous, battered old guitar. The instrument just looks like it has a story or two to tell.
Grandma gives him a dour look over the top of her glasses. “Of course not. You’re too busy wooing June, and don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“Wait,” I say. “I’m being wooed?”
He gives me a wink and pauses playing for a second to check his watch.
“How is this wooing happening?” I ask.
“It’s a secret,” he says.
And Grandma scoffs. “Don’t you dare fall for it. He has a five-second attention span.”
“I’ve actually been working on that,” he says. “Think I’ve got it up to eight.”
“This is no joke. Toy with June at your own peril.”
He frowns. “Audrey, I have no intention of hurting anyone.”
“You never do. But it happens with alarming regularity.”
And while I have no idea exactly what’s going on here between him and me, the last thing I want to do is spend the night listening to them argue. “What are you going to play next?”
Nash’s gaze jumps to me and something in him eases. Perhaps the hard line of his jaw and the set of his wide shoulders. “I haven’t decided. Any requests?”
“It would be nice to hear some Linda Ronstadt,” says Grandma with a sniff.
“I can do that. How about ‘Blue Bayou’?” He starts playing the new song. “I’m waiting, by the way. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Waiting for what?” asks Grandma, with much suspicion.
“Shouldn’t be long now. You’ll see.” The man’s dedication to pissing off my grandmother tonight is supreme. I mean, he says he fears the stick, but I really don’t think it’s true. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be living on the edge like this. Just throwing caution to the wind.
What we need is a distraction. Something casting him in a better light would be useful.
“I forgot to tell you about the anonymous donations,” I say with a winning smile. “Someone’s been spending serious money helping various causes around town.”
Grandma’s ire retreats a smidgeon. “He’s always been generous.”
“It’s going to make a big difference to a lot of lives,” I say. “Must be nice getting to give so much to people.”
He just smiles.
“There was a proposed program for unhoused people in the area that fell through due to lack of funding last year,” says Grandma. “I could ask around for the details if you like?”
“Please,” he says.
“You’re not expecting anything else from the record company, are you?” she asks.
He shakes his head. “Farmer’s bound to send more of his people sooner or later. But hopefully with the delivery of the Volvo, we get a break from them for a while.”
“The thought of Lady Caroline somewhere out there seething that she couldn’t snap her fingers and have you back is a pleasant one,” admits Grandma.
“Speaking of which,” I say. “Still not convinced I should keep the car.”
Grandma sets her phone aside. “Oh, you’re keeping it. You need a safe car that works. Those people take and take. We owe them nothing.”
“She’s right,” he says.
“Have him tell you about the first contract he signed when he was just starting out,” continues Grandma. “Took him years to get out from underneath it. Predatory doesn’t begin to cover some of their practices.”
Nash frowns. “Who could have guessed that a teenager signing a contract in the parking lot of a bar at two in the morning would turn out to be a bad thing?”
And just like that, the decision is made…I am now a Volvo driver.
“You haven’t bought her some foolishly expensive thing, have you?” asks Grandma. “Something to try and turn her head. Is that what you’re waiting on?”
“No,” he says. “It’s a good idea though. Did you know she turned down a horse on the first night I was here?”
“What on earth would she do with a horse?”
I sigh. “That’s what I said.”
And he smiles at me, and I smile back at him, and huh. It’s the hard beat of my heart and the warmth spreading through me. Feeling this much for him this soon isn’t safe. There’s no stopping it, however.
Getting nowhere with Nash and the ongoing mystery of his waiting, Grandma turns to me and says, “I hoped you’d be wiser than this. As charming and handsome as he might be—”
“You think I’m handsome?” he asks. “I never knew that.”
I can actually hear Grandma grinding her teeth. There’ll likely be nothing left of them by the end of the night. “Thousands, no, millions of people think they own him. Is that really a situation you want to make yourself a part of? Can anyone compete with such a thing?”
“June has no competition,” he says in a serious tone.
“You say that now, but—”
“Grandma,” I say, in my most grown-up voice. “Let’s just have a nice night.”
“Anyone home?” calls a deep male voice coming around the side of the house. The man who walks into view is tall and lean, with a head of silver hair and a moustache. His white skin is tattooed and he’s holding a motorcycle helmet and black leather jacket.
Grandma is instantly on her feet with her mouth open. Like she’s running short on air. “Charlie.”
“Audrey,” says the man, in a softer tone. “And you’re shocked as shit to see me. Which is strange, since the boy said you invited me out here.”
“The boy.” Nash’s answering smile is lopsided. The new arrival doesn’t interrupt him playing his guitar. Though this person’s appearance has got to be what he was waiting for. “I don’t remember saying that exactly. Were those the precise words I used?”
He might as well not have spoken. Charlie’s gaze doesn’t move from my grandmother. “It’s been a while,” he says. “You look good. Retirement suits you.”
“Just a few years,” answers Grandma. And oh my god, she’s blushing.
The man grunts. “It seemed longer.”
“Of course you’re welcome here.” Grandma’s smile is strained. Approximately never have I seen her so discombobulated. The effect this man has on her is frankly fascinating. “I’m just surprised to see you.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asks. “I’m reasonably certain the last time we crossed paths, you wished me good riddance. Though you used stronger language.”
Grandma ignores the question and walks toward the kitchen. “Why don’t I get you a beer?”
“Nash,” growls the man, once she’s out of earshot. “What the fuck?”
“Need your opinion on my new place. The best options for setting up a studio.” His fingers keep moving over the fretboard. “This is Audrey’s granddaughter June, by the way.”
He nods. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Hi,” I say.
“She told you about June?” asks Nash, with a raised brow. “Interesting. Always seemed sort of reluctant to talk about her to me.”
Charlie gives him a dour look. “You’re not seriously wondering why?”
Nash laughs and turns to me to say, “Charlie used to play bass in my band. Before he retired to go riding around the country. Your grandma and he both left me about the same time. Is it any wonder I have abandonment issues?”
Charlie sets his helmet and jacket on the outdoor dining table. “You look different without all the hair. More like your bother.”
“Hmm,” says Nash. “I’m going incognito these days. Can’t tell you how nice it’s been not getting recognized when I leave the house.”
“How long is that going to last?”
Nash shrugs. “No idea. But I’m enjoying it while it does.”
“Want to tell me why you summoned me here?”
“Because I need you, buddy. And let’s be honest, it’s where you want to be.”
Grandma comes striding out of the kitchen with a bottle of beer in her hand and the strained smile still in place. “Here we go. Take a seat.”