“You didn’t!”
Nash moved the phone away from his ear. “Sorry?”
He wasn’t. Not really, but he didn’t know what else to say to appease his manager.
R.J. sighed. “Tell me everything so I know what to tell the PR firm.”
Nash did, including how meeting Ivy Quinn was what led to tonight. “She’s an amazing singer-songwriter. I’ll send you a recording of her song. We sang it as a duet. I told her I want it. Get approval so we can take the next step. I also want to get her set up with a music publisher.”
“You like her.”
“I’m trying to make amends. Helping her is a way to do that.”
“That’s fine, and I’ll let the PR firm know because this could do a lot for your image. But whatever you do, don’t get romantic with her.”
Nash clutched his phone. He had left out the part where he’d kissed Ivy.
“We’re not.” Not really. “But hypothetically, why would getting romantic be bad?”
“Your career needs to be your focus. A relationship will distract you. But more than that, you already hurt this girl.”
“Woman.”
“Fine, woman. When you break her heart again—and you will because you always do—you’ll come off as the villain. You don’t need that bad press on top of everything else.”
Yeah, Nash didn’t want to hurt Ivy again.
“Makes sense.” Even if he wanted to kiss her again. “So what music publishers do you recommend?”
* * *
The sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky when he pulled into a park in Riston. Based on signs he’d passed, the small town appeared to be the home of a destination resort called River’s End Ranch.
So far, no one from the PR firm had notified him he could ditch his disguise, so he hadn’t. But with the temperature in the eighties, the beanie made his head sweat and itch.
He exited his car and walked toward the grass. Under a big tree, Ivy sat on a blanket as she spread out their lunch.
Nash sat next to her. “Hey, darlin’.”
She laughed. “You can drop the country star persona. Though it worked on my family last night.”
Yeah, he should have thought before he spoke to them. “They hate me.”
“Hate might be extreme, but they’re willing to give you a second chance since I am.” She removed the top off a plastic container before holding it out to him. “Strawberry?”
He took one and popped it in his mouth. “Delicious.”
“From Carter’s farm. It’s organic.”
“You said he runs it.”
“Runs and owns it with his wife, Avery,” Ivy explained. “She stayed home last night because her horse wasn’t feeling well. But Mercury is doing better today.”
Even though Nash sang country music and owned a house on acreage, the country lifestyle was unknown to him. He’d grown up in Atlanta and not the best part of the city.
A bird flew overhead. On a nearby path, a family of five walked their two dogs. Beyond them, a little boy and his father attempted to fly a kite despite there not being much wind.
“This is nice.” Nash surveyed the spread of food. “You went all out.”
She shrugged. “My family has big parties to celebrate every holiday, big or small, but I don’t go on many picnics like this.”
“Because of your music.”
Ivy nodded. “And it’s not much fun alone.”
“We’ll redefine fun today.”
Ivy brightened. “I’d like that.”
He enjoyed being outdoors instead of in his hotel room.
She handed him a plate. “Help yourself.”
Nash did, popping another strawberry in his mouth before adding half a roast beef sandwich and potato salad onto his plate. “How did you get into singing?”
“My dad.” Her smile was bittersweet. “He loved all types of music. We used to dance and sing when I was little. He taught me to play the piano and guitar, too.”
A sweet story, but if she was only doing music for her dead father that wouldn’t be enough to pull her through the tough times. It would also explain why she gave up before.
“Is music a way for you to remember your dad?” Nash asked.
“Sort of, but I’m not performing for him.” She gazed off in the distance. “My dad was the catalyst for me falling in love with music. He supported me whether I was in a production at school or dreaming about moving to Nashville. When he died, things were hard and my plan to head east was put on hold, but music is the way I express myself. I would have discovered it with or without my dad. Though I’m happy that’s something we shared.”
Okay, that was the answer Nash needed to hear.
“Why did you want a career in music?” she asked.
He swallowed his bite of sandwich before wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I was what you’d call a late bloomer. My parents were drug addicts so my childhood was about surviving.”
She covered his hand with hers. “I’m so sorry.”
He appreciated her gesture of comfort. He forgot how a simple touch could feel so good.
“Just the luck of the draw.” This wasn’t a story he told often, but he was willing to share it with Ivy. “My mom and dad abandoned me when I was eight. I went to school one morning, and when I came home, the apartment was empty and they were gone. The landlord called the police, and I ended up in the foster care system.”
“That had to be difficult.”
He shrugged. “Yes and no. I bounced from one foster to another but then landed with a family who is still part of my life even though I aged out of the system. They gave me my first guitar and lessons one Christmas.”
Understanding shone in her eyes. “A life-changing gift.”
“In every sense of the word. They encouraged me to also sing and write my own songs. When they realized I was serious about music, they bought me a small keyboard and gave me piano lessons.” If not for his foster parents, who’d been oh-so-loving and accepting, giving whatever child who passed through their door what they could, Nash had no idea how he might have turned out. That was why he bought them a new house before he’d bought one for himself. “Sid and Aimee Bennett are amazing. I love them so much.”
Ivy’s lips parted. She moved her hand from on top of his. “You took their name.”
“It’s my stage name.”
“What’s your real name?” she asked, raising her sandwich.
“That’s top secret.”
Ivy stared up at him through her eyelashes. “Please.”
Nash might as well give in because saying no to her wouldn’t happen. Not today at least. “Promise not to tell?”
“You can trust me. Even without the NDA.”
“I know.” Warmth flowed through Nash. “My real name is Neville Regis.”
She repeated it. Grinned. “Sounds like a British lord or duke.”
“Or a pretentious snob, which is about as far from my crack house upbringing as you can imagine.” He laughed. “I never liked it, but the real reason I took a stage name is because of my birth parents. I didn’t want them to look for me. Especially if I found some kind of success with my music.”
Ivy studied him. “You seem more like a Nash than a Nev or Neville.”
“That was R.J.’s idea. He came up with Nashville because it was like Neville and then shortened the name to Nash.”
“I like it.”
“Me, too.” He ate his sandwich.
A comfortable silence descended between them with occasional whistles and laughter from others in the park. Nash could get used to this, which shocked him. But he realized the biggest draw of this picnic wasn’t the food or the setting but Ivy.
“Thank you for making today special.” He sipped from a bottle of lemonade. “I needed this.”
“You’re welcome. So did I.” She leaned back on her hands. “It’s such a pretty day. I have to work later, but we have time for a walk if you’re up for it.”
; “As long as I ditch the beanie, and there aren’t hills, I’ll be good.”
“We’ll keep it short so you don’t re-injure yourself.”
“You can kiss it better if I do.” Nash couldn’t stop himself from flirting with her. He wasn’t looking for romance, but he wouldn’t mind another kiss.
Her face flushed. “How about you promise not to hurt yourself more, and I kiss you now?”
Score! One kiss—okay, a second one—didn’t mean they were getting romantic. Besides, R.J. would never know. “That sounds even better.”
Ivy leaned over and pressed her lips against his. She tasted sweet like a strawberry.
Nash couldn’t get enough of her. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her onto his lap, never letting his lips leave hers.
He wove his fingers through her hair. The strands were soft and silky. As he deepened the kiss, she arched against him.
This.
This kiss.
This kiss was everything.
Her hands ran along his back. A soft moan escaped.
Nash didn’t want to stop kissing her, but he couldn’t let things get out of control. He slowly drew back, telling himself there would be more kisses to come, or he would have kept his mouth on hers.
He stared at her lips. “That was amazing.”
She nodded. “Who knew a picnic in the park could be so romantic?”
Whatever you do, don’t get romantic with her. When you break her heart again—and you will because you always do—you’ll come off as the villain. You don’t need that on top of everything else.
Nash couldn’t hurt Ivy again. He cared about her too much. “I’m game for another whenever you are.”
R.J. was wrong about Nash hurting her. Dead wrong.
CHAPTER TEN
Ivy’s feet barely touched the ground. She’d seen Nash for the past three days and couldn’t believe June was over. How could it be July—the second to be exact? The best part of today was she didn’t have to work. That meant more time with Nash. First, though, she needed to speak to Grams.
Ivy hit the call button on her phone.
The line connected.
“Hello, Ivy.” Affection coated her name. Not surprising since each one of them held a special place in her grandmother’s heart. “I heard about the hubbub at the pub on Friday night. How are you doing, sweetheart?”
Ivy’s mom had been calling asking the same thing. “I’m great, Grams.”
“You sound happier than usual.” No doubt, her grandmother was smiling. “Is that because of your new young man? That country singer fellow?”
“He’s not. We’re not.” Ivy wasn’t sure what she and Nash were. They saw each other every day. They texted when they weren’t together. And they kissed, not only when they said goodbye. “His name is Nash.”
“You like him.”
Ivy shrugged but then realized Grams couldn’t see her. “He’s…nice.” That seemed the safest word to keep Grams from going into matchmaker mode.
“I hope so.” Grams chuckled. “But do you like him?”
“If he wasn’t leaving Quinn Valley soon, I could like him a lot,” she admitted.
“My advice is to dive in and see what happens. He might not be staying for long, but nothing is holding you in Quinn Valley.”
Ivy gasped. “Nothing except my entire life. My mom. Sister and brothers. You and Grandpa and the rest of the family.”
“We’ll always be here when you want to visit,” Grams said in a matter-of-fact tone. “You thought about leaving once for your music.”
“That was different.” The words fell out of Ivy’s mouth. “I was younger. Naïve.”
“You’re only twenty-eight, dear. That’s still young.”
“Sometimes it feels old.”
“We can trade places for a day if you want to know what old feels like.” Grams laughed. “So did you call to chat or do you need something?”
Ivy tightened her grip on the phone. “Would you mind if I invite Nash to the Fourth of July picnic?”
“Oh, please do.” Grams sounded almost giddy. “We’d be delighted to have him. You know, there’s always space at the Quinn table for one more.”
Relief flooded Ivy. “Thanks. I’ll ask him. Though I don’t know if he’ll say yes.”
“He will unless he’s an idiot. And my granddaughters don’t date idiots,” Grams chided. “I take that back. Heather married and divorced one, but she finally found her true love. Oh, that reminds me. We now have an actor in the family. If you marry that singer—”
“We’re not…” Okay, Ivy relented. She and Nash were sort of dating. “We work on music together.”
“Sharing a passion is wonderful.”
Thinking about the song they’d worked on earlier today brought a sigh to her lips. “It is.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting your young man.”
“I can’t wait to introduce him to you.” Now all Ivy had to do was ask Nash. She hoped he said yes.
* * *
On the way to see Nash, Ivy stopped by Ciran’s taco truck, which was next door to the hotel. She ordered tacos and splurged on an order of sopapillas because Nash enjoyed them. She did, too.
She didn’t see her uncle Bob or her cousin Roxane in the lobby. For the best, if they reacted like Ivy’s immediate family had. Ivy rode the elevator to the top floor and then knocked on his door.
It opened. Nash greeted her with a kiss. “I missed you.”
“You saw me a few hours ago at my apartment.” He’d run by changes to a song he was working on.
“Doesn’t matter.” Nash took the food from her hand. “I enjoy being with you.”
She stepped into the suite. “I enjoy it, too.”
He closed the door behind her. “Something smells good.”
“Tacos and sopapillas.”
Nash shook his head. “I meant you.”
“Thanks.” He was so cute, and she still couldn’t believe any of this was happening with him. Country star with a small-town waitress. It was crazy, but she was enjoying herself and focusing on the now. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
Nash got them each flavored water from the fridge before joining her at the table where they dug into the food.
“These tacos are so good.” Nash ate another. “I can’t believe Ciran is related to you, too.”
“Many people in town have a connection to our family, but Roxane gets a prize for adding the taco truck guy to the clan.”
At last year’s Fourth of July picnic, Ciran and Roxane had been dating. Now they were married with a baby on the way. Funny how a year could bring so many changes.
Ivy wondered what the coming year would bring for her—the same old same old or hearing Nash sing her song on a streaming service and watching the music video online. Music aside, she hoped he was a part of her life in twelve months. If not as they were now, then as friends.
Would that be enough?
It would have to be. She finished a second taco.
Nash ate a sopapilla. “Your family must have the best potlucks.”
“We do because Ciran isn’t the only talented cook. There’s Bethany, my mom, Betsy, Grams, the list goes on.” This provided Ivy an opening for mentioning the upcoming family gathering. “Speaking of which, do you have plans for the Fourth of July?”
His gaze met hers. “Other than spending it with you, no.”
Her heart bumped. That was all she wanted, too. “My family throws a huge Fourth of July picnic at the Quinn Valley Ranch each year. Would you like to go with me?”
Nash’s mouth fell open. He went still. “You’re inviting me?”
Panic flowed through Ivy. She couldn’t tell if he was excited or shocked in not a good way. Her stomach sank. “Yes, but if you’d rather not…”
“I want to go,” he blurted.
“You do?”
He nodded. “Will your grandmother be there?”
“Of course. Her, Grandpa, and more Quinns t
han you can imagine. Not everyone shows up, but many do.”
“Good, because I want to meet her and all your family.”
Ivy wiggled her toes. “It’s a date.”
He picked up another sopapilla. “What should I bring?”
“Yourself.” His asking, however, was adorable. She knew Grams would like him despite the past. “It’s a potluck, but you’re a guest. I’ll take care of the food.”
His brow furrowed. “I can’t show up empty-handed. Mama Aimee will never let me live that down.”
“How will she know?”
“The woman has fostered dozens of kids. She knows everything whether or not I’m there.”
The respect and affection he showed for his foster mom touched Ivy’s heart. “There are usually too many desserts, but you could bring something to drink. Soda is a big hit with the younger kids, who tire of lemonade. Several guys will bring fireworks, but there’s always plenty of those.”
Nash’s mouth slanted. “There can never be enough fireworks.”
Ivy laughed. Something about fireworks turned men into children on Christmas morning. Must be lighting a match and setting off an explosion. “You’ll fit right in with the other guys.”
“Not your brothers.” He sounded resigned.
She didn’t blame him.
“You haven’t seen them since that night.” She and Nash decided a cooling-off period would be for the best and kept to themselves. Which she preferred so she could have Nash all to herself. “It’ll be fine.”
Ivy would make sure.
Everyone—meaning her siblings—could behave themselves for one day. No drama allowed. The only fireworks should be the ones shot into the sky. And she would tell each that.
“Can’t wait.” Nash sipped his water. “You brought your guitar, but we worked hard on that song earlier. How does taking the night off and watching a movie sound?”
She angled toward him. His eyes were bright. No dark circles. “Are you tired?”
“No, I just want to spend some downtime with my girl.”
His girl. Ivy liked being called that. “I’m in.”
His cell phone buzzed. Once, twice, three times.
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