Sweet Harmony

by LuAnn McLane

  “Sure, I’ll give it a shot.” Jeff hoped his smile didn’t appear as forced as it felt. “And thanks for the opportunity. So when do we get started?”

  “Right now, if that’s okay?” Maria raised her eyebrows.

  Right now? “Sure, but is Cat here?”

  “She’s due to arrive in ten minutes,” Maria replied.

  “You were that sure I would agree?”

  Maria angled her head. “I was hopeful, but I don’t want you to feel strong-armed. If you don’t want to dive in this quickly, I can do a songwriting session with Cat instead. She was coming in regardless, so don’t feel pressured.”

  Jeff took a deep breath. He had agreed, so there wasn’t a valid reason to put this off. “No, I’m free, so let’s give this a shot.”

  “Super! You can head into the studio and warm up. I’ll send her in when she arrives. Need anything? Coffee or water?”

  “Water would be great,” Jeff answered and forced one more smile. If they thought he was going to make “Second Chances” into some pop-sounding bullshit, they were dead wrong. He’d do this, but on his terms, not Cat Carson’s. He wasn’t about to get talked into teaming up with her and then having her run the show. Jeff had waited far too long for this opportunity to have it ruined by compromising what he believed in.

  “Thanks.” Jeff accepted the bottle of water and headed into the state-of-the-art studio. Wondering how his band would react to this new development, he inhaled deeply. So Cat Carson would agree to one song, would she? Jeff took a swig of water and squeezed the thin plastic too hard, splashing water down his shirt and onto his jeans, which made it look like … well, that … “Dammit!” He was trying to remember whether he had a change of pants in his truck when the door swung open.

  Cat walked in. No, she didn’t walk. She breezed in looking confident while he stood there looking as if he’d just wet himself. He wondered whether he could grab a guitar to hide it, but judging by her grin it was already too late. “Nervous, Farmer Jeff?”

  “I spilled water.”

  “Sure you did.”

  “Evidence.” Jeff held up the crushed water bottle, and she laughed.

  “So you don’t know your own strength?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “Okay, I believe you now.”

  Jeff took a step closer and said in a low voice, “Look, I don’t want to do this any more than you do.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, so you’re taking one for the team by singing with the likes of me?”

  Jeff opened his mouth for an instant comeback, but Cat flipped her hair over her shoulder and when he caught a subtle whiff of her floral perfume his brain short-circuited. “I, uh …” He tried again but his traitorous eyes had to notice that Cat was dressed in a plain white V-neck T-shirt tucked into faded jeans that hugged her curves in all the right places. She tapped her dusty pink cowboy boot and folded her arms across her chest. Come on, who wore pink boots? And why the hell did he find them cute? He didn’t … dammit. He forced himself to look away.

  “So are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Taking one for the team?” she persisted.

  “There you go, putting words into my mouth again. Oh, right, what I’m thinking is written all over my face.” Jeff felt the need to point straight at his nose and do a circle.

  “Let’s just say I’d kick your butt in poker. And it was you who put words into my mouth. I didn’t say I didn’t want to do this.”

  “Right, but you will only grace me with your voice for one song.”

  “What? So you want to be a duo? Cut an album?” She raised her arms akimbo and eyed him as if they were about to start a boxing match instead of sing a song.

  “Ha,” was all Jeff could manage because he was distracted by her mouth, sheer pink and glossy. “You wish,” he added. He raised his chin but then felt ridiculous and rocked back on his heels.

  “In your dreams,” Cat shot back.

  “More like a nightmare,” Jeff told her. Since Cat was tall, her boots made them stand almost eye to eye. The thought that they would, in fact, look good onstage together slipped into his mind, but he shook it off. When she opened her mouth to retort, Jeff heard the loud clearing of a throat.

  “Um, shall we get started?” Maria asked lightly.

  “Oh …” When had Maria entered the room? Jeff backed away quickly, oddly feeling as if caught in an embrace instead of bickering. “Sure.” He nodded and then glanced at Cat, who appeared just as guilty-looking.

  Maria handed them sheets of music. “I’ve created this arrangement. Look it over while we wait for Rick to join us. Remember that this song is about embracing a second chance at love,” Maria added with a soft smile. “It doesn’t happen often,” she said, and there was an odd twist to her lips that gave Jeff pause. He had to wonder whether the song was a reflection of Maria’s own life. The entire town of Cricket Creek was pulling for Maria and Pete Sully to reconcile. Jeff thought it would be pretty darned cool if they did.

  Jeff sat down on the tall stool and looked over the arrangement. The song weaved a story about love lost but never forgotten and the hope of someday getting that elusive second chance to begin again. Jeff loved the lyrics about eternal hope and never giving up.

  “This song is so sad,” Cat said to Maria. “I didn’t realize when I first heard it.” She glanced at Jeff.

  “That’s because it’s not,” Jeff protested, defending his interpretation of the song. “It’s about hope.”

  “That never comes!” Cat sputtered.

  “Until tomorrow,” he argued.

  “Always tomorrow,” Cat countered. “That’s what the lyrics say. The tomorrow that never comes.”

  “The tomorrow that is always there for the taking,” Jeff argued. “Are you that cynical?”

  “Are you that naive?”

  Jeff started to reply, but Rick entered the studio. “Okay, let’s get started.” Rick rubbed his hands together and gave them a smile. If he sensed the tension between Jeff and Cat he chose to ignore it.

  “I don’t know the song the way Jeff does, so bear with me,” Cat said with a slight frown.

  “No, you sure as hell don’t,” Jeff mumbled and was rewarded with a glare from Cat. Jeff shrugged at her and when the music began the result was like a singing sparring match. Jeff sang of hope and Cat countered with despair. The result became angry, edgy, and chock-full of emotion. Jeff turned and moved toward her pleading, but Cat countered with resistance. But when he finally gave up Cat lured him back with the lyrics, and at the conclusion of the song Jeff leaned closer … close enough for a kiss—and for a crazy moment he thought Cat was going to give him one. Then she abruptly turned away, leaving him feeling lost and needing her.

  Jeff wanted to turn her around, but the sound of silence in the room made his heart thud and he remembered that Maria and Rick were watching. Jeff removed his headphones and shoved his fingers through his hair. Damn, he’d been that emotionally into the song!

  Oh boy …

  Jeff looked at Cat’s back. Her shoulders raised and lowered as if she was breathing hard. Upset? Angry? He told himself he didn’t care and yet he had an odd urge to draw her into his arms. He told himself his reaction was to the powerful lyrics, but he found himself frowning. What the hell was going on here?

  This time both Rick and Maria cleared their throats, bringing Jeff back to reality. Well, that performance most likely killed the whole duet idea. Good. Problem solved.

  Right?

  “That blew my mind,” Rick said, drawing Jeff’s attention. “I mean, wow, man. Sorry to be so blunt, but … holy shit.”

  Cat whirled around as well. She glanced at Jeff with a total I-blame-this-on-you slight narrowing of her eyes.

  Rick turned to Maria, who was dabbing at the corners of her eyes. Good God, they’d reduced her to tears? Did this really just happen? “Thoughts, Maria?”

  “I totally agree.” Maria swallowed hard and then
gave them a shaky smile. “Pardon me for saying so, but I think holy shit says it all.”

  “We could run through it again,” Cat offered and then gave Jeff another glare. “Can’t we, Jeff?”

  “S-sure.” Jeff nodded but returned her glare with a this-totally-wasn’t-my-fault stare down.

  “You think you can top that performance?” Rick asked. “I’m already blown away.”

  “Top it?” Jeff asked hesitantly and then it hit him. They’d liked it. He heard Cat suck in a breath and he glanced her way. She was frowning as if confused.

  “That edgy, hard-hitting version was super unexpected,” Maria admitted. “But the emotion was raw and powerful and quite frankly took my lyrics to a new level. But that’s what music is all about. Touching you with fierce emotion and you two have it in spades. Chemistry. Explosive.” She raised her hands skyward. “Boom!”

  Jeff looked at Cat, who seemed a bit stunned.

  “The question is, can you capture that same emotion again?” Rick wanted to know.

  Jeff turned his attention to Cat. She lifted her chin and then narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at him once more. She didn’t have to say it, but Jeff knew it was a silent dare.

  “Yes,” they answered in unison.

  “Excellent,” Rick said. “Based on what I just heard, you two have the potential to be an amazing duo.”

  “We agreed to one song,” Cat reminded him with a touch of firmness.

  “I know,” Rick said in a light tone and raised both hands. “But you both need to hear that. Trust me, I’m not trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do, but you should be aware of the fact so you can make decisions down the road. Fair enough?”

  Jeff looked at Cat and they both nodded.

  “Good. Well, the studio is open for the rest of the afternoon if you want to rehearse. If possible, I’d like for you to perform at Sully’s on Friday and get the reaction from a live audience. Is that okay with you?”

  “Sure,” Jeff said. Cat nodded again but she didn’t look all that pleased. Jeff understood. He didn’t want to be a damned duo. One song! And that was going to be it.

  6

  Got to Get You into My Life

  WHEN PETE LOOKED UP TO SEE MARIA ENTER THE FRONT door of the tavern, his heart started to thud. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed a towel and started wiping down the already clean bar top. Ever since Maria’s return to Cricket Creek last Christmas, Pete had been hoping to find a way to get his ex-wife back into his life. When subtle hints failed to work, Pete decided it was high time to step up his game. He reached up to stroke his beard—a nervous habit he’d formed over the years since Maria had left him—but encountered smooth skin and then he remembered.

  That morning he’d shaved.

  During the week after Maria had left Cricket Creek for Nashville and Clint had left for college, Pete had let himself go and the result was a beard that he’d ended up keeping for the following seventeen years. After the divorce, beer and bar food became other habits, resulting in weight gain and ultimately health issues.

  While Maria visited Cricket Creek for family events, they would only see each other in passing, resulting in a polite hug and forced smile that would haunt Pete afterward. When Clint didn’t come home from California after he’d failed to get drafted into major-league baseball, Pete had been sure his son would return to Cricket Creek. Instead, Clint chose to stay and coach college baseball. Pete had missed his son like a physical ache. So much anger and words left unspoken had resulted in years of unhappiness and regret. Clint chose to visit his mother occasionally in Nashville, and Pete had heard that Maria had made several trips to California. Visits to Cricket Creek, however, had been few and far between. And when Clint confessed that he’d stayed away because he thought Pete was disappointed that he hadn’t made the major leagues, it had torn Pete apart.

  Why hadn’t he reached out to them?

  Pete gripped the edge of the bar and closed his eyes.

  Foolish pride. It had taken heart problems to knock some sense into Pete. Years of not caring about himself finally reared its ugly head.

  The return of Clint last Christmas changed all of that, and Pete now worked out on a regular basis over at the Cricket Creek Cougars baseball stadium, where Clint worked as a coach. Clint had also insisted on adding healthy choices to Sully’s menu and the result was Pete being in the best shape he’d been in for a long-ass time, and it felt damned good.

  While Pete wiped the same spot over and over he watched Maria’s progress out of the corner of his eye. She wore dark blue boot-cut jeans and a fitted tan leather jacket that she removed and hung on a row of hooks lining the wall. A crisp white collared shirt was tucked into her jeans, revealing an intricate silver belt buckle studded with turquoise. Maria always did love Western and Native American jewelry, and she looked amazing. Pete reached up and tried to stroke his beard once more and then wondered what Maria would think of his clean-shaven face.

  Would she even give a flying fig whether he had a beard or not?

  Pete quickly looked down so Maria wouldn’t catch him watching her, but when he heard the heels of her boots clicking across the hardwood floor, he couldn’t resist glancing up. Damn. John Jameson, newly elected state representative and oh so full of himself, slinked over and extended his hand toward Maria. She smiled politely and accepted the handshake, but when John clung to her hand and leaned in to say something in Maria’s ear, it was all Pete could do not to hop over the bar and plant his fist in Jameson’s face.

  Maria smiled, but when Jameson gestured toward the high-top table he’d been sitting at, she shook her head and pulled her hand away. Pete let out a sigh of relief. Had Maria joined that smarmy-ass politician, Pete didn’t know what he would do but it would most likely not end well. Maria had that look about her that said she wanted no part of his bullshit, but John Jameson’s mouth kept moving. And, although Maria’s smile remained, it looked a bit strained. Pete really wished he could hear what was being said, but the music along with the clanking of pool balls and the dinging of the pinball machine interfered with his ability to listen in on their conversation. Dammit!

  Still nodding, Maria glanced around as if looking for someone she knew to help her escape, but happy hour was still a good thirty minutes away, so only a few other patrons were scattered around the room.

  Soon people would start pouring in and Pete would crank up the music, but right now all he wanted to do was tug Maria away from Jameson.

  Pete sighed again when Maria finally turned on her heel to go but the damned man reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, impeding her progress. Pete felt hot anger wash over him. He tossed his towel down and wondered whether he could still hop over the bar without doing himself bodily injury—it would be a pretty impressive move. Pete placed one palm on the smooth wood and was wondering how much heft it would take when Maria reached up and deftly removed Jameson’s hand.

  “Oh, come on. Just one drink?” Jameson said loudly enough for Pete to hear. “You know you want to, sugar.”

  Pete wondered whether the doofus realized that Maria was his wife? Okay, ex-wife, he reminded himself. But seriously, couldn’t the man feel Pete’s gaze boring into his back like a red-hot laser?

  “The name is Maria and I said no thank you.” Pete watched Maria raise her eyebrows. When she tilted her head just slightly, Pete wondered what she was about to do. Pete had witnessed similar behavior from Jameson on numerous occasions but Pete thought he might be messing with the wrong woman this time. Was John Jameson about to finally get the slap across the face he so richly deserved?

  Pete sure as hell hoped so. He just might have to applaud.

  Instead, Maria abruptly turned away… .

  And Pete’s gaze locked with hers.

  Maria’s eyes widened and her mouth parted, making Pete wonder whether she was pissed that he hadn’t intervened, and then he remembered his clean-shaven face. She walked toward him with a slightly bemused expr
ession that he wished he could read. After sliding up onto a barstool, she finally asked, “So what made you shave your beard?”

  “You never did like to beat around the bush,” Pete replied, glad that his voice didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.

  “There’s no reason to.” Maria pointed to his face. “So?”

  “Ah, just felt like a change.”

  “And how does it feel?”

  “Cold.”

  Maria tilted her head to the side and laughed. God, how he loved the sound… . How he missed the sound.

  With a move bolder than he felt, Pete leaned across the bar. “Wanna feel how smooth?”

  Her eyes widened again and Pete’s heart dropped when it appeared as if she was going to refuse but then she reached up with both palms and cupped his cheeks. She rubbed her thumbs back and forth and nodded. “Somebody replaced your face with a baby’s butt,” she agreed, and Pete wondered whether he imagined a slight breathless tone in her voice. As if reading his thoughts, she abruptly dropped her hands and cleared her throat.

  “Can I get you something? An Arnold Palmer?” he asked, making sure she knew he still remembered her favorite mix of lemonade and iced tea.

  Maria nodded and then lifted her chin. “I know it’s not five o’clock yet, but add a shot of vodka. The good stuff.”

  Pete pointed to a sign hanging on the wall that read: “IT’S FIVE O’CLOCK SOMEWHERE.”

  “Good point.”

  Pete nibbled on the inside of his lip. “I just thought of something you might like even better. Are you willing to try?”

  “Sure.” She gave a smile that appeared a bit shy, reminding him of the first time he asked her out on a date, and it went straight to his heart.

  Pete went in search of some tea-flavored vodka, and after adding a splash of lemonade proceeded to make an Arnold Palmer–flavored martini. He shook the ingredients until it was ice cold and then strained it into a chilled glass that he’d rimmed with sugar. Pete added a curl of lemon zest and placed the fancy concoction in front of her with a flourish.

  “Wow, now that’s very pretty,” Maria said, and he was mesmerized as she moved her fingers up and down the stem of the glass. She lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip.