“You’re better than the band who played tonight.”
Pride flashed in her eyes but quickly disappeared. She picked up another plate. “Thanks.”
He didn’t know if she was modest or lacked confidence. “I mean it. You have an incredible voice. Have you written other songs besides the one you sang?”
Two more plates ended up on the stack she held. She nodded.
That was great. Being a singer-songwriter gave her more options than if she only sang.
“I’d like to help you.” The words rushed out. “Want to go out to dinner?”
Ivy set the plates on the table before straightening. Lines creased her forehead. “You asked me to have a drink last night. Now dinner? How will that help me?”
Smart woman. She viewed his invitations as come-ons. Which they were. In part. “We can discuss your music. That’s where the help comes in.”
She raised her chin. Her expression was a portrait in distrust. “What’s it to you?”
This was the time to pull out the NDA and pen from his back pocket. That would blow his chance with her. He would probably regret this, but he removed his sunglasses.
She gasped, which told him she must recognize him.
Good, that would make this easier.
He would be humble—not his normal MO—but he wanted to talk to Ivy as a fellow musician, not a fan. “I’ve mentored other singers. I could help you.”
Wide-eyed, her mouth gaped. “Seriously?”
The disbelief in her voice almost made him laugh, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
Nash nodded. “You have the talent to go far. I’m happy to share what I’ve learned in the business and give advice.”
“Unbelievable.” Ivy laughed, a sound as sweet as the songs she’d sung last night. The melody wrapped around his heart, filling him with warmth.
Man, he could get used to this. Mixing business with pleasure could lead to problems, but he would face whatever consequences arose to see this through with Ivy. “Is that a yes?”
As her face hardened, her eyes grew dark. “It’s a no. I won’t have dinner with you nor do I want to listen to anything you have to say.”
Wait, what?His chest tightened. His skin prickled. This couldn’t be happening again. “Why not?”
Her nose scrunched. “You really have to ask?”
Nash nodded. He didn’t trust his voice not to crack or be full of emotion. A cold feeling unrelated to the pub’s air conditioner seeped through him.
Ivy stared down her nose at him, reminding him of his fifth-grade teacher who had never liked him. “Because, Mr. Bennett, you gave me advice years ago. As much as you could in two minutes. What you said was the opposite of flattering. I’m not up for another round of devastation. Or you. So please, leave me alone.”
She grabbed the dishes and hurried toward the kitchen.
Okay, that hadn’t gone as expected. His head swam. A good thing he’d only drunk water or he might be on the floor given how weak he felt.
Nash noticed Maggie and a man with similar coloring standing at the bar. Both stared at him.
Nash put on his sunglasses so no one else would recognize him. Ivy had, except what she said about giving her advice made little sense.
He’d never met her. He would have remembered someone like Ivy, wouldn’t he?
