Sing to Me (The Highlands Book 1)

by Ali M. Cross

  He’d marry that woman just as soon as she was ready. He’d marry her and make music with her and ride the moon with her all the days of his life. He couldn’t imagine a better or more perfect forever.

  So why was he struggling to write this song? It had felt so natural and easy when it first came to him the other day at the Highlands, but now it eluded him, as stubbornly out of reach as Sailor always was. Used to be, he thought.

  He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, pictured Fiona with Sailor, replaying all the moments he’d seen them together. He started the song over from the start for the fifty millionth time. It began beautifully, then rapidly fell apart. With his eyes still closed he offered up a simple plea for help. He knew it was frivolous, but still . . . maybe . . .

  Soon, an answering refrain began in his mind and he echoed it through his fingers on the strings. He felt it out, discovering it as it flowed from God through him, and into his instrument. Excitement built within him until finally his eyes flew open and he scribbled the new notes onto a blank page.

  Then with a smile stretching from ear to ear, he began to play.

  NIX FUSSED WITH THE STAGE SETUP FOR THE umpteenth time. There was no reason to change it. It had always worked well before. Just because he’d be singing tonight for the first time since New Year’s Eve, and the first time ever since coming to River Mile, Colorado, didn’t mean he needed a different setup than anyone else before him. But he fussed with the guitar stand, then picked up his guitar to check the tuning. Again.

  Kipper threw him a dirty look from the floor where she was taking down chairs and setting them around the tables. “Boss, it sounds great. The stage looks great. What doesn’t look great is the floor. We open in five.”

  He hopped off the stage and began whipping chairs off tables and clattering them to the floor so noisily that Kipper hissed. “Sheesh. No need to break the things. Then again, it’s your place so . . .” She whipped a chair around and slammed it to the floor. She sucked in her lip when she saw the crack that ran up one leg. She shot Nix a sheepish grin. “Oops? Wait. This’d be one of those you were practicing Crusher with the other day. I just put the finishing touch on it.”

  Nix let out a strangled laugh. “Sorry.” He took the now-damaged chair from her to exchange it for one of the spares in the back. “I’m just a bit—”

  “Distracted, I know. That’s what you said.” When he was almost to the back door she added, “Nervous as all get out if you ask me.”

  “I heard that!” he called.

  “I don’t care!”

  It was wing night, so Nix headed into the small galley kitchen off the bar to check that as many dishes as possible were already prefilled and ready to go, that the wings were in warmers and there was more prepared for when the first warmer got low. It was simple bar fare, but the locals seemed to like it and it gave them a reason to get out of the house on a Wednesday night. The place wouldn’t fill to capacity, but he’d do steady business and everyone would have fun. And for the first time in almost a year, he thought he might have some fun. Scratch that, for the first time ever. Because he’d never been this happy or this sure of himself and his choices.

  Patrons began arriving, the stage got busy right away, and he and Kipper started serving up wings and veggie sticks. He paired the food with tiny ramekins of ranch sauce and a German barbeque sauce he’d discovered while living there. As far as he knew, he was the only public business buying the sauce from the mom and pop shop in Frankfurt. Everyone who tried it loved it. He reminded himself to see about selling bottles—it never failed but he got at least two requests a night to buy some.

  Jodi Milner was in the middle of a decent rendition of Leather and Lace when Pops deigned to lift his head and offer a soft whuff. Standing behind the bar, Nix had a clear view of Fiona as she walked in. Her long, gold hair swung from side to side from its high ponytail. He knew he’d have a hard time keeping his hands off it tonight. He already wanted to feel its silkiness between his fingers. She wore a purple plaid shirt over a white lacy T-shirt, skinny jeans and silver cowboy boots, her long, elegant neck bare for the first time since he’d met her. Her eyes were on him the moment she stepped inside, and it felt as if everyone and everything fell away as she walked toward him.

  He met her halfway, never taking his eyes off of hers. “Hey,” she said when they stood nearly toe to toe.

  “Hey,” he tried to say, but it came out as more of a croak. He cleared his voice to try again, but she interrupted him.

  “Your eyes.” She stood on her tippy toes and leaned against him, peering intently at him. The smell of her, of lavender and citrus, made him weak when he only wanted to be strong for her. He wanted to gather her up in his arms and take her away. To selfishly keep her all to himself. To talk to her and kiss her and hold her and sing to her. He wanted to share everything with her. Instead he leaned against the counter and put his hands on her hips, using all his self-control to keep from crushing her to his chest.

  Her gray-blue eyes bore intently into his. He swallowed, unsure how much more he could take. “What is it?” he whispered just barely loud enough to be heard over the final strains of Jodi’s song.

  “Your eyes are amber. I’ve never seen them look so golden before—they’ve always been so dark.”

  His eyes were nearly black, thanks to his father’s Shoshone mother. He had no idea what scientific reason there might be for his eyes to appear lighter tonight, but he knew what was in his heart so the only explanation for him was, “You’re my sun. You’ve lit me up from the inside.”

  He said it so seriously, their eyes locked in a kind of embrace of their own, but as soon as those words left his mouth, they both laughed. She fell into his arms and he gratefully held her to him, relishing the way their laughter joined together, the feel of her in his arms. When she looked up at him, he didn’t miss a beat. He kissed her, well and truly until she lifted onto her toes, leaned into him and purred a soft rumble that resonated through his entire body.

  Aided by the atrocious musical stylings of Billy Cummins—a regular and a regular burned muffler of a singer—he finally managed to pull away. Someone behind Fiona cleared his throat and Nix looked up, his gaze registering Gavin at the same moment Fiona whirled around, her hand covering her mouth.

  “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I totally forgot—” She jumped away from Nix and looped her arm around Gavin’s. “Come on. Let’s get a seat.”

  “Hey, Nix!” Lindsay offered a small wave once she’d finished hanging up her coat. Then she shimmied her way over to the table Fiona had chosen. Lindsay danced to every song, Nix had noticed. It was one of the things he liked about her. He thought he’d enjoy having her as a sister-in-law.

  “We’re low!” Kipper announced as she pushed out of the kitchen and onto the floor.

  “Gotcha,” he called back. Then shimmied himself into the kitchen to start a new batch of wings. He wasn’t feeling nearly so nervous anymore.

  Fiona felt more relaxed than she could ever remember feeling. Gavin sat beside her, his knee bouncing up and down with nervous energy. It was like their roles had been reversed and now she was the calm sibling while he quietly freaked out. Not to worry, she thought. It’ll all work out. She wished Jack was with them tonight, but he’d taken the Emersons out for a day trip to make up for the day they lost in the deep. Lindsay was on the dance floor with two other women she seemed to know really well. She admired her older sister for her bright enthusiasm and her dark beauty.

  “Why doesn’t Linni have a boyfriend?” she asked Gavin, leaning toward him so he could hear her over the sounds of the recorded fifties music playing through the speakers.

  He snorted. “Now that you’ve found love, you want everyone else to have it too?”

  Fiona flinched. Had she found love? She couldn’t quite grasp on to that concept right away, so she decided to set it aside for further consideration later. “Well, is that such a bad thing?”

  “No,” he said. But he d
idn’t sound too sure.

  “What about those two girls Linni’s dancing with?”

  Katie, in the arms of her husband, twirled past Lindsay on the dance floor and Fiona smiled. This really wasn’t such a bad place to be. Maybe she’d been looking at everything all wrong for far too long.

  Gavin shook his head. “Too young. Besides, one’s married.”

  “Well you’re not looking to date them, just to dance with them.” Still, she scanned the crowd, looking for other women who might be more Gavin’s speed.

  Nix dropped into Lindsay’s chair with a tray full of wings, veggies and sauces. He grinned at her and Gavin like the Cheshire Cat.

  “What?” she asked. He leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek.

  “Nothin’. Just glad you’re here.” He was up and back to the bar before she had a chance to ask him if he could recommend any of the women in the club for Gavin.

  A vaguely familiar woman stepped onto the stage. She was petite, with long blonde hair, a white cowboy hat, a soft brown leather vest over a sleeveless white T-shirt and cowboy boots and jeans. She smiled at the crowd with an easy grace while a Joan Jett song began to play. Fiona knew she’d be good before she even opened her mouth and the singer did not disappoint. Halfway through the song she said to Gavin, “Do you know her? She’s good.”

  “Jodi Milner. Owns the Quik ’n’ Carry.”

  “Are you friends?”

  “We’re friendly, I guess.”

  “You should ask her to dance when she’s done.”

  Gavin sighed, but he didn’t resist. Fiona sat back to enjoy the rest of Jodi’s song with a smug smile of satisfaction. She was pretty sure a dance with a hot little number like Jodi Milner was just what Gavin needed.

  To her surprise, Lindsay climbed the stage once Jodi had finished receiving her applause. And to her delight, the song was a slow one—a pop ballad she didn’t know. It had been forever since she’d listened to the radio. The song had an easy lilt and her sister sang with a warm, throaty alto that had Fiona gawking. Where had her sister been hiding that voice all these years? At home she always sang with a crackly, silly voice. Why had she hidden her talent?

  But Jodi was about to pass their table on her way to her own and Fiona had a brother to get dancing, so she shoved on Gavin until he was stumbling from his chair and directly into Jodi. He ended up pinning the much smaller woman to the table, his face turning beet red almost as quickly as he back-stepped away.

  “Heya, Gavin,” Jodi said smoothly. “You okay?”

  He cleared his throat, his Adams apple bobbing, and Fiona thought for sure he’d chicken out. Or throw up. Instead, he took his hat off and twirled it on a finger before saying, “Sorry ’bout that, Jodi. My little sister’s on a mission tonight and she caught me by surprise.”

  Surprised to be drawn into their conversation that she’d been carefully eavesdropping on, Fiona tried to cover up her involvement by checking on her phone.

  “And what kind of mission is that?” Jodi asked, a distinct purr in her voice. Oh my gosh, Fiona thought. She’s attracted to him!

  Gavin took a careful step closer and swept his hat back onto his head. “To get me to dance. Care to?” He held out his hand, and without a second’s hesitation, drew Jodi back toward the dance floor. He was so much taller than her, and despite a little stiffness to his steps he led her in the dance like a man born to it. Fiona watched them and wondered at her quiet, private brother and who he might really be under all that responsibility he wore like Atlas bore the world. And then she watched Lindsay shine on the stage and wondered at how she could have never known that her sister was a talented singer. How come she never sang at home? How come she never wanted to be a singer, like Fiona? It seemed the more she learned about her family, the more she realized she’d never really known them at all—and maybe that’d been the problem all along. She’d thought only of herself and never about them.

  Her mind flicked onto a moment of disappointment that Nix didn’t join her, or better yet, ask her to dance, but she forced it away. It was about time she did some watching for a change. And the more she did, the more her love for Gavin and Lindsay grew.

  LINDSAY ACCEPTED THE APPLAUSE WITH GRACE AS Gavin walked Jodi back to her seat. Fiona hardly knew who to watch, her brother or her sister—she wanted to see what both would do next. She felt so giddy, so full of life and love. She was happy. She had hope. And she knew, too, that God was real and that He had brought her to this moment. She’d promised herself she’d never forget that moment in the woods, and so she told herself it was 100% okay for her to be happy.

  “Thanks, guys!” Lindsay said once the applause had fallen to a trickle. “That was really fun for me, so thanks for your support.” Her smile was so infectious, and she had such grace on the stage that Fiona smiled back at her along with everyone else in the club. “I’ve been asked to distract you for half a second while our next performer makes his way over here.” Heads swiveled among the audience as people tried to guess who might be performing next. Nix had told her that most of the men who performed did tricks or feats of skill, so she wondered what she might see.

  Lindsay glanced into the wings, then beamed at the crowd. “Looks like he’s ready! Okay everybody, put your hands together for our very own Nix Elliott!”

  The crowd leapt to their feet as Nix stepped out, an acoustic guitar in his hand. He smiled shyly, his eyes seeking out Fiona’s. She’d remained sitting, surprised by the outburst around her and not really understanding its importance. Wouldn’t Nix perform here often enough for them to be pretty used to him by now?

  He smiled at her and pulled a stool toward the mic. He sat down, all the while chatting with the audience. “Folks, thanks so much for filling my little club each week, for spending your evenings with us here, for sharing your talents. Recently I realized I’d been hiding mine under a bushel, so to speak.” He began to pluck notes on his guitar, just a gentle background accompaniment to the pictures he wove with his words. “You see, I’m not exactly who you think I am.” Murmurs rose and fell among the group as people returned to their seats and tried to speculate about what he might mean.

  “A year ago, I was the lead singer for a punk rock band called Bloody Iris. Don’t bother looking them up,” he joked, “unless you want your ears to bleed.” He plucked and plucked, looking around, seemingly at each person individually.

  “I had a great career—money, possessions, whatever I wanted. Thing is I never knew what I wanted so nothing ever seemed to be enough.” The audience was completely quiet now. Even Kipper had stopped busying herself at the bar and stood transfixed. Fiona felt a surge of love for Nix, which surprised and overwhelmed her, bringing hot, soft tears to her eyes.

  “That old line that goes you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone? Well, that’s me. I lost my parents a few days apart the first week of January. When they were gone, I realized the thing I was looking for was a home. A place to belong and people to belong to. I thought the life of a rock star would never be conducive to those deep wants so I gave it all up. I figured I’d never sing again, that I’d focus on other people, their talents, in hopes that I might one day belong.”

  “We love you, man!” a guy called out, and several people whistled while others shouted their agreement.

  Nix chuckled. “Thanks. I need all the love I can get!” He returned his attention to Fiona, his eyes boring into hers, even from across the room. The tune he plucked resolved into melody and Nix began to strum. She knew he’d sing, soon.

  “Thanks for making me feel welcome here. For helping me feel like I belong. There’s someone else here who’s struggled to find her place. Someone who’s wild and free and has maybe been misunderstood. I think she’s misunderstood herself. But the moment I saw her, all golden and bright, riding on the back of my black mare Sailor Moon, I knew that I understood her. So this song’s for you, Fiona MacDonald. And for Sailor—though I don’t think she’d appreciate it much.”

>   A few people chuckled quietly, not wanting to break the spell of Nix’s words. He built upon the notes in his hands, fleshing out the tune, and then he began to sing.

  I saw you first, in fiery glory.

  I saw you and named you my own.

  You rose from the earth in frenzied abandon;

  You flew to heights few could imagine.

  I saw you and named you my own.

  You rose from the east in subtle soft shades;

  You could never be claimed, never be owned.

  You stood glorious and golden, a beauty apart;

  You stood broken, disheartened, alone.

  I saw you and wished you my own.

  But wishes are lazy prayers of the heart;

  They have no wings to fly.

  And so I believed until the day

  The Sun and the Moon combined.

  They flew together on fields of green

  With skies of blue above.

  They soared, the Sun and Moon together,

  A glorious song of love.

  They stormed the castle of my heart,

  And in the ashes I knew—

  I am not defeated.

  I claim the Sun and Moon.