“I’m pretty wired from the drive. You want to stay a few and talk? I’d enjoy the company.” He was surprised because he meant it.
“Sure. Why not.” She took the extra seat across from him at the table and tucked her legs underneath her.
“So, tell me, how is it being the opening act for your first headline tour?” she was curious how he was taking it all in. She couldn’t even imagine.
He was quiet as he contemplated how to answer her question.
“I’ve written songs for as long as I can remember. I thought being in the spotlight was the next logical step, and that it would be amazing. Don’t get me wrong. It is. It’s just a lot more than I bargained for at times. Actually, a lot of the time.” He cradled the mug in his hands, seeming to ponder its contents.
“Dalton loves it. He was made for the spotlight though. Always has been. I remember when we would visit for the holidays at his house in Georgia. He was always the center of attention – singing, acting, something. He’s always been destined to do this.”
“Yeah. He’s great. He’s been a big help to me. Showing me the ropes on the road. It’s absolute craziness and not as glamorous as people think it is.” He laughed. “Sleeping in a king-size bed is a luxury when compared to bunking on a bus for weeks at a time.”
Minutes turned into two hours as Sara caught herself in mid-yawn.
“I didn’t realize it was getting so late. I’ve got to be up early. Guess I better call it a night.” She stood and stretched. “I hope you find your time here relaxing and productive, Nate.”
He stood walking with her to the door.
“Thanks for the talk. It was nice to have no agenda. No audience.”
“Good Night, Nate. Sleep tight. I promise there are no bed bugs to bite.”
“Sweet dreams, Sara.”
As she walked the short distance to her room at the other end of the hallway, she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. She was certain a tall, brown-haired, blue-eyed, bearded singer was going to be in her dreams tonight.
That irritated her. She didn’t have time for unrealistic expectations. She had an inn to run. The woman inside her mocked her, knowing she had taken to Nate but wouldn’t admit it.
Sometimes she hated her inner voice. She was usually right.
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Christmas On Pointe (A Silver Bell Falls Holiday Novella) Page 20