I snort-chuckle. “No, it isn’t. Some of the notes you sing fall into the bass clef range.”
She shrugs. “It is kind of fun to sing the deep notes.”
Tapping the music sheet, I grin. “So, are we going to get started?”
“Let’s do it.”
* * *
There areabout a thousand things I need to do, but spending the afternoon with Mac, going back and forth over music and lyrics, is the most fun I’ve had in a long, long time. It reminds me, by contrast, how worn out and tired I’ve become with my daily routine.
As I put away the guitar, it’s my turn to stretch and yawn.
“I don’t know how you keep up with all of it,” Mac says, pushing the hair off my forehead. She’s done that a few times, and it’s sent an electrical current down my neck every time.
“I don’t know that I’m keeping up with any of it. But Joey just finalized her PA certification, and maybe one of these days, I can ask for fewer hours.”
“Well, whoever sings this song, whether it’s me or someone else, it’s going to do really well, which hopefully’ll give you some breathing room.”
I wrinkle my brow. “What do you mean, give me some breathing room?”
“We haven’t talked about the particulars, but you’re going to get a songwriting credit on this song plus a percentage of the profits, so you’ll do okay.”
She says this as if it’s the super obvious conclusion to the work we’ve been doing.
“I’m just helping you with the strumming and stuff. It’s like…I don’t know, a student who works with a note-taker in college.”
She bows her head, shaking it. “That’s bullshit. You provided feedback on lyrics and music. So that’s a songwriting credit and an arrangement credit. Don’t devalue what you do. In fact, and I was going to save this part until I thought it might not freak you out, but I have a feeling that time will never come.”
“Oh, fantastic,” I snark. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
“Stop being so dramatic. It’s just, I’ll definitely be bringing you out to Nashville for a couple-three days so you can sing backup vocals on that track for me.”
It’s my turn to leave my mouth hanging open. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t kid about music.”
Looking deeply into my eyes, her hand comes up to my jaw. Suddenly, I don’t think we’re totally talking about music anymore. The way she’s looking at me isn’t exactlymusical. I gulp, blinking at her.
“Kinley, you are one of the most naturally talented people I’ve ever worked with. The folks I work with in Nashville are amazing, but they’ve got a very specific, very dollar-oriented end goal in mind. You, on the other hand, are doing this because it makes you happy. You have this whole life you’ve built for yourself. Music is, at best, a neglected hobby for you, and you like it that way.”
“I do,” I admit, surprised that she understands that about me and doesn’t judge it. “I can’t ever think of making it something that isn’t fun.”
“That way of thinking has made this process fun for me too. This song? It’s going to go number one. I can promise you that. It’s going to be up for an Academy of Country Music award. Hell, it’ll be up for a Grammy. I promise you.”
I groan. “You’re going to put my name on a Grammy-nominated song?”
“Yes, I am.” She moves her face closer to mine. “Know what else I’m gonna do?”
Breathing hard, I shake my head, our noses nearly touching.
“Something I’ve wanted to do from the first second I met you.”
She closes the distance, pressing a kiss onto my lips. Without a thought, I kiss her back, tightening my hold. We stand there, making out, and her hand slides over my ass, pulling me closer.
She draws her head back. “Damn, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to kiss right.”
I shake my head. “There was nothing wrong with that. Though…if you wanna practice more—”
