“If something happens with the songs…” Except that wasn’t the whole truth. Ivy deserved that from him. “Or if we wanted to get together.”
She scrunched her nose. “In what way?”
“Music.” Oh, man. He was messing this up. “I had a great time yesterday. I miss playing like that.”
She reached out her hand. “Give me your phone.”
Excitement surged. He unlocked his cell phone before placing it on her palm.
She tapped the screen. Inside her apartment, a beep went off. “Now you have my number and I have yours if we want to do another jam session.”
Nash had a feeling he was grinning like a fool. The funny part? He didn’t care. “Do you have time now?”
He wouldn’t earn points for subtlety or playing it cool, but maybe being honest would get him a few.
“I wish I did, but I have to get over to the pub for my shift.”
He’d bagged groceries in high school, but that seemed like another lifetime. He didn’t know how shifts worked for a server. “Do you get days off?”
“Tuesday and Wednesday.”
Pearl rubbed against Ivy’s leg.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” She scooped up the cat. “The last time you escaped, I spent hours trying to find you. You’re not doing that again and making me late to work.”
Nash could take a clue, but he didn’t feel rejected this time. She had somewhere to be. “I should let you get ready.”
Her cheeks turned pink.
“Not that you look bad or anything.” Yep, he’d reverted to a teenager. Great.
“Good to know.” She laughed. “Nice seeing you again.”
“You, too.” Nash wasn’t ready to say goodbye. “Would you want to work with me on one of my songs?”
Her eyes widened. “Sure.”
“Tomorrow night? Say six thirty?” he asked, hopeful. “I have a physical therapy appointment in the late afternoon, but after that I’m free. I can order food so we can eat first.”
“Sounds good.” The cat purred in Ivy’s arms. “I’d just be working on songs here. And this gets me out of cooking dinner.”
Nash wished spending time playing music with him would have been motivation enough, but she hadn’t said no. That was a win in his book. “Great, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Now all he had to do was to keep himself busy until then. How hard could that be?
* * *
An adult shouldn’t have trouble waiting a day to see someone, but Nash was going crazy. Granted, itwasTuesday—afternoon to be exact. He was on a machine to help build strength and improve his balance. Not the most fun exercise, but thinking about playing music with Ivy distracted him.
As he did another rep, his leg trembled. Sweat beaded at his hairline. No pain, though, so that was progress.
“What’s going on?” Travis asked, his voice full of suspicion.
“Following orders.”
“Exactly.” Curiosity gleamed in the physical therapist’s eyes. “You keep glancing at the time, but you haven’t complained once. Something’s up?”
Travis Quinn was the closest thing to a friend Nash had in Quinn Valley, but he was paid for the physical therapy sessions. Not once had the guy brought up being related to Ivy, which given they shared a last name, he surely was. He’d been a professional and nice, when he wasn’t trying to kill Nash with exercises, but the Quinn family seemed a protective bunch. No way did he want to bring up seeing Ivy tonight. If she wanted to do that, she could, but Bob’s reaction on Saturday night had been bad enough.
