by Jen Gilroy
“Happy to help.” At least there was something he didn’t share with his old man. Seth tried to concentrate on tying his sneakers and not on how Annie’s fitted white T-shirt outlined curves usually hidden by her Quinn’s apron or a bulky sweater.
“Seth’s a pro.” Brendan picked up his toolbox. “See you at Mom’s tomorrow?” His gaze swiveled to Annie.
“Sure.” She smiled at her brother then watched him walk to his truck at the end of the driveway.
Seth got to his feet. “I should head home, too.” Except, he didn’t want to. He sucked in a breath. He wanted to stay here with her.
“Of course.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. Red-blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders, and her skin was almost translucent in the soft light of the shaded porch.
“You probably have plans with Hannah or . . .whatever.” His heart thudded and his voice echoed in his ears. “But it’s almost suppertime. If you’re free, do you want to grab something to eat with me?” It was a friendly gesture because he didn’t know many people in town, but that didn’t explain why his breathing sped up and he was a whole lot warmer than the temperature warranted.
“Hannah’s watching movies with friends tonight, so I guess so.” Annie nibbled her bottom lip. “We could go through more of the estate papers.” She fiddled with the silver bangle on her right wrist. “I’d have to go to Quinn’s first and pick up some stuff from the office though.”
“No problem.” He swallowed and let out a breath. “I need a shower and have to let Dolly out.”
“Shall I meet you at Jake’s apartment in an hour?” She backed toward the door and put a hand to her mouth.
“Sure . . . great.” Seth moved closer, then stepped back. This wasn’t a date. He and Annie would get a meal and talk about estate paperwork, nothing more.
Yet, as he walked to his truck, his legs trembled and not from the manual labor. The estate paperwork was an excuse, and they both knew it.
~ ~ ~
It was only dinner. Annie tucked the folder under one arm and locked the filing cabinet in the bakery office. And if she talked about the bequests in Jake’s will, she wouldn’t be drawn into any personal conversational paths.
She moved down the hall and into the bakery kitchen, singing the song she’d been working on. Through the half-open window, the fresh spring wind whispered in the trees, and water tumbled over Irish Falls with a muted roar. She didn’t have to meet Seth for another fifteen minutes, and nobody was around. She set the folder on a counter, drew in a deep breath, and let the music spill out.
The kitchen disappeared. Irish Falls disappeared. And she was in that special place where only music ever took her.
A dog barked.
Annie stopped mid-note. Her heart pounded, and her stomach went rock hard.
“Dolly, no.” Seth lurched past the window. “What do you think you’re—” The outside door banged open, and Dolly skidded across the floor with a chorus of excited yips.
Seth stopped beside Annie. His chest heaved beneath an open-necked white shirt above a pair of dark jeans. “I’m sorry. She heard your voice. The door was ajar and . . . hey.” He gestured to Dolly to sit. “You’re an incredible singer.”
Annie flinched as images of what might have been flashed through her mind. A stage, bright lights, and an expectant hush. She held back a cry. “It . . . it wasn’t me. It was the radio.” She bent to pat the dog and her stomach heaved.
“I see.” Seth glanced toward the shelf where the radio sat, silent.
“Yes. I turned it off before you came in.” She straightened and pressed a hand to her chest.
“I didn’t recognize the song, but whoever was singing has perfect pitch. Her voice has a special quality. I’ve heard a lot of good voices, but that was a great voice. The song was great, too. Even from the little I heard it has hit written all over it.” His tone was casual—deceptively so. “What station were you listening to? I want to contact them so I can play that song here.”
Annie licked her lips. Could she trust him with the truth? “It wasn’t the radio.” She gulped. “It was me.” She picked up the folder from the counter and gripped it so hard her knuckles went white. “I said I’d meet you at the apartment. What were you doing out there?”
“Dolly had to do her business.” His blue-gray gaze seared her. “Do you sing like that in your choir?”
“No.” Her shoulders sagged under his penetrating gaze. “You know that when you sing in a choir, your voice has to blend with everyone else’s.” And over the past sixteen years, she’d gotten good at blending in. She’d blended into her family, Irish Falls, and her job at Quinn’s and, until a little while ago, she’d convinced herself she liked it that way.
“Who wrote that song?” He took a step closer, and she backed up against the counter.
“I did.” She gave a high laugh. “It’s a hobby.”
“I haven’t heard that combination of melody and lyrics in a long time, maybe ever.” His expression softened. “You had me working out harmonies and backing vocals right there on the path. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, but your voice and that song . . . you shouldn’t hide your talent.”
“Lots of people sing.” She hugged herself.
“Not like that. They don’t write songs like that, either.” The gentleness in his voice cranked her panic up another notch. “Whether you admit it or not, you have a big talent.”
She froze, rooted to the spot as his words hit home. Why had she let what Todd had done become such a part of her that she was afraid to share her music in case it jeopardized her hard-won safety? “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Her head spun and time seemed to slow. “When I was Hannah’s age, I wanted to make it in music like she does.”
“And?” Seth’s voice was soft.
“I left for Nashville after I finished high school. I had a scholarship to study music at Belmont University.” She shivered and reached across the counter to shut the window.
“Then what happened?” His voice held no censure, only warmth.
She swallowed hard. “A week after I got there, I met Hannah’s dad. His name was Todd. He was a studio musician and songwriter, and I met him at a gig I went to with some girls from my dorm. I had stars in my eyes.” She bit her lip as her stomach heaved again. “I believed everything he told me, but it turns out I was another small-town girl with dreams bigger than herself.”
Seth let out a long breath. “It’s not too late. Your voice and—”
“Look at me.” She raised an arm and dropped it by her side. “I’m almost thirty-six. How many women my age make it in Nashville or anywhere else? The music business is a young person’s game. There are lots of girls with great voices. And they’re young, more beautiful, and hungrier than I’ll ever be.”
“Even if everybody else writes you off, that doesn’t mean you should do it, too.” His tone was serious, like he was talking about more than her music.
“I’m being realistic. I had my chance, and it didn’t work out. I got pregnant with Hannah, gave up my scholarship, and came back here.” Even if she had regrets, that part of her life was over.
“Maybe you wouldn’t make it as a singer, but what about songwriting? Would you sing your song for me the whole way through?” His expression was hopeful.
She tensed. “I don’t sing in public.”
“I’m not the public.” His tone cajoled her. “You already sing in church and you help out with the school music program. You must sing with the kids.”
“That’s different, but how do you know about the school? Tara?”
He shrugged and gave her a teasing smile. “She loves you.”
And if she didn’t love her sister so much, she’d kill her for blabbing to Seth. “W
hat else did she tell you?”
“That you sucked your thumb, still sleep with a bear called Mr. Snuggles, and you’re the best mom and sister ever.” His grin almost split his face in two.
“I’ve never had a bear called Mr. Snuggles.” Her face heated because she had a stuffed rabbit named Flopsy who still sat on her bedroom dresser. “As for the thumb sucking, I stopped in kindergarten.”
“Two out of three, and I guessed the most important one, didn’t I?” His chuckle was more appealing than it should be. “Will you at least think about singing for me? I promise I won’t bite.”
That was the least of her worries. “Okay.” She put a hand to her mouth. What had she done?
“Great. While you think about it, let’s get some food. The Black Duck?” His smile was also much too intimate.
“I . . . okay.” It was only dinner at the local roadhouse, not the top of a slope that might prove way too slippery. “We’ll have to take your truck, though. I walked here because my car wouldn’t start. It’s probably the battery but my cousin who’s a mechanic can’t check it until tomorrow.”
“No problem. I’ll take Dolly back to the apartment and meet you at the truck in five.”
She nodded, unable to speak around the tightness in her throat. Seth wasn’t Todd, but, despite the desire that tugged in the pit of her stomach, and the unexpected warmth stealing through her body, she couldn’t let herself get close to him. Maybe someday she’d meet another man—one outside the music business who she could trust with her heart—if not her songs. And one who couldn’t break her, along with her music.
Chapter 8
“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” Holly fluffed her hair and grinned at Annie beside her in front of the mirror above the row of sinks in the ladies’ restroom at the Black Duck. “What happened to get you out from in front of the TV with Tara? Or maybe I should say who?”
“I needed to talk to Seth about Jake’s estate paperwork. Tara’s helping a friend with some sewing tonight, and he and I were both at a loose end.” A tingle spread from the back of Annie’s neck and across her face. “The Black Duck has the best burgers in town.”
“Indeed.” Holly’s smile widened.
“It’s not like that. I told you, we have to talk about estate stuff.” Yet, although the conversation had been entirely businesslike while they waited for their meals, as soon as the food arrived, they’d talked about a lot of other things, and Seth didn’t seem in any hurry to leave.
“Who knew estate paperwork could be so interesting?” Holly winked and picked up her clutch purse from beside the sink. “The way the two of you were leaning toward each other, I thought you were on a date for sure.”
“We’re not—” Annie stopped as the restroom door banged shut behind her sister-in-law. She rested her palms on the narrow vanity and stared at her flushed reflection in the mirror. This wasn’t a date. If it were, she’d have dressed up and freshened her makeup.
Except, maybe she hadn’t done either of those things because she’d been scared it could turn into a date. When Seth heard her singing, and had gotten part of the truth out of her, it had taken every ounce of her willpower to come here with him tonight—and pretend what he’d heard, and what she’d shared with him, wasn’t a big deal.
As much as she’d tried to hide the old Annie who’d been set on getting out of Irish Falls and making it in Nashville, she was still there. And after talking to Seth in the bakery kitchen earlier, that small flame of self-belief that had never truly died flickered back to life. She wasn’t sure where it would take her yet, or if it could take her anywhere, but she needed to try. And a pottery class or online college course would always be second best.
She pulled open the restroom door and stepped out into the soundtrack to a Black Duck Saturday night—a buzz of conversation, the clank of dishes, and a medley of country tunes.
“Hey.” Seth waved as she wended her way through the crowd to sit at their table. “Are you okay? I was about to send somebody in after you.”
“I’m fine.” Annie plastered a smile on her face and tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach. “There was a line.”
“Do you want to get another drink or more dessert?” His face creased into attractive lines as he smiled. “That pie was great, but Brendan told me the Black Duck buys cheesecake from Quinn’s.”
“No thanks. I should get home.”
He couldn’t be flirting with her, could he? What she’d said about that Nanaimo Bar Cheesecake being better than sex the day he arrived in town still made her cringe.
“Sure.” Seth signaled their waitress for the check. “No.” He shook his head when Annie reached for her purse. “Let me take care of this one. I invited you out.”
“We should split it.” If she paid for her own meal, there couldn’t be any misunderstanding about what this evening was—or wasn’t.
“You can get it next time, okay?” Seth pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans.
Next time? Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t let herself go down that path with him.
“Hey, it looks like they’re setting up for some live music.” Seth glanced toward the stage then handed the waitress several folded bills and nodded at her to keep the change. “Why don’t we stay and listen?”
“Hannah will be home soon. I need to be there before she is.” Her hands shook as she looped her filmy scarf around her neck and buttoned the jacket he had held out for her to slip into. Once, she’d been a regular at the Black Duck’s live music nights.
“Of course. Sorry. I forgot.” His smile was wry. “Parenting is a twenty-four/seven job.”
“Yeah.” Annie’s breathing eased. She’d never faltered or forgotten her responsibility to her daughter, and she wouldn’t start now.
“You need to direct me from here to your place.” Seth jingled his keys as they walked to the door of the restaurant and out into the night. “I’m fine going back to the station once I’m at your house, but I’m still finding my way around town, and I’m not used to how dark it is here at night.”
“Sure, but it’s pretty easy once you figure out the street pattern, even in the dark. I don’t usually bother with my car. I can walk from home to the bakery and almost everywhere else I need to go.” Annie tucked her hands into her jacket pockets. It might be spring, according to the calendar, but the nights were still chilly.
Seth opened the passenger door of his truck, and Annie slid in. Nana Gerry would have said he’d been raised right, the way he took care of doors, coats, and things. It was more than politeness, though. Although he was a big guy, he had an innate gentleness and care in how he treated others.
The truck engine roared into life, and Seth stared ahead as he navigated the pothole-filled lot, where vehicles were parked three deep. “It’s a whole different world for me here.” His profile was a lighter silhouette against the dark interior of the cab.
“We’re pretty far off the beaten track, but the tourists like it that way.” And until recently, she’d been fine with that isolation. “I’ve never been to LA.” Annie clasped her hands together on top of her purse on her lap.
“It’s a fun city. Lots of people, sunshine, and excitement. Traffic, too.” The truck bumped over the railroad tracks, and the water tower loomed in front of them, ghostly in the moonlight.
“Here, a traffic jam is a lineup of three cars waiting to get out of the grocery store parking lot at closing time.”
Seth laughed as he signaled right onto Malone Street, where Annie indicated. “That sure beats sitting in freeway traffic for hours.”
“Why did you move to LA?”
Seth took another right and then a left as he followed Annie’s hand gestures. “Why any kid does. Dreams of fame and fortune. I was a guy with a guitar who played in a band and LA was wher
e everything happened—or so I thought.” He slowed the truck to a stop in front of her house. The two-story blue clapboard with white trim was hugged by a wide porch, and window boxes waiting to be filled with spring blooms.
Like why she’d gone to Nashville. “Here we are.” Her voice cracked, the sound loud in the sudden silence.
“Thanks for keeping me company tonight.” Seth unclipped his seatbelt and turned to face her.
“No problem.” Annie undid her belt and pushed the truck door open.
“Wait.” Seth jumped out and came around to her side. “My grandmother had her faults, but she taught me to walk a woman to her door.”
“Thanks.” The path to her front door had never seemed so narrow, but Seth had never walked up it with her before, either. “Thanks for dinner, too.” She stopped on the bottom porch step and dug in her purse for her keys.
“You’re welcome.” Seth held out his hand. “The board on that step creaks like it’s loose. I’ll swing by tomorrow afternoon and take a look. It probably only needs a few nails. I don’t want you to slip and fall.”
Her hand disappeared into his bigger one. The board was loose, and she’d slid off that step more than once. She never seemed to have enough time to take care of things like loose porch boards and damaged roof shingles. “Brendan talked to you.” She tried to laugh and ignore the sense of safety and security of his hand in hers.
“Only a little bit.” His voice was slow and soft, with long vowels. He fished a small flashlight out of his jacket pocket with his other hand. “Your brother looks out for you.”
The light went on and illuminated the key ring in the depths of her purse. She took her hand away from his and fumbled for the house key.