When it was showtime, she stood in front of the microphone, fighting a case of nerves. The fluttering feeling in her stomach was always present before she sang at the pub, except these butterflies appeared to be drunk and wreaking havoc inside her. She knew the reason—Nash.
Which was ridiculous.
He’d heard her sing almost every day this week and been here last week when she’d performed. She’d received nothing but praise from him. Any changes to her songs had strengthened them. His suggestions had been constructive, so she didn’t understand her reaction.
Just sing.
So she did.
Halfway through the first song, Ivy found her groove. Oh, she knew Nash was still watching, but she let the music take over. One song went into the next—all covers—with only a few breaks between the applause for her to talk to the audience.
Sing one of your songs, please.
Nash had texted her that earlier today. She had two songs left, so this was the perfect time for one.
“I’m going to switch things up and sing something I wrote.” Someone whistled—Maggie. “This one is called ‘Waiting in the Rain.’”
As Ivy sang of a woman waiting for her love to arrive, she couldn’t help but think of Nash and the time they’d spent together this week. The spotlight made seeing anyone in the pub difficult, but she knew where he was sitting and glanced his way, pouring her gratitude for working on the music with her into the song.
When she finished, the clapping was louder than it had been for the other songs. She gave a slight bow. “I have one more song for y’all tonight.”
“Do you take requests?” Nash asked.
The question caught her off guard for a nanosecond, but then she recovered. “Depends on what you want to hear and who’s asking?”
The crowd glanced around.
“A duet.” He walked toward her. “With me.”
The world—hers at least—shifted. Ivy’s heart lodged in her throat. She swallowed. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” Not an ounce of uncertainty sounded in his voice.
“Okay.”
Nash joined her on stage, still wearing the beanie and sunglasses. He stood next to her, shoulder to shoulder, since they would share the mike. She didn’t smell alcohol on him, but being on the small stage with a spotlight was the opposite of being incognito.
“Do you really want to do this?” she whispered.
He nodded. “They’ll think I’m a ringer. Let’s sing ‘Forever in my Heart.’”
That was one of her songs they’d worked on together.
As she sang the first verse, her gaze flicked from the audience to him. She wasn’t sure where to look even though her eyes kept wanting to return to his face.
When he joined in during the chorus, a murmur ran through the crowd. He might be dressed like a typical Pacific Northwest Hipster, but he sounded like Nash Bennett, country music superstar.
He kept singing, not deterred in the slightest, moving so their faces almost touched.
Her breath nearly stalled. But nothing had ever felt so natural, so…right.
When it was Nash’s turn for the chorus again, his gaze met hers. His left arm slipped around Ivy, bringing her closer. “I never knew what was missing,” he sang. “Never knew the hole inside me could be filled.”
Her heart melted. She nearly missed her cue but sang her line. “I’m here. With you. Forever in your heart.”
Singing, she leaned into him, feeling as if they had become one voice. He never glanced at the audience, only at her. She couldn’t have looked away from him if she tried.
The song ended, but something still connected them together. Neither moved for a second, maybe three.
Clapping thundered through the pub.
Mischief gleaming in his eyes, he kissed her. A soft, perfect press of his mouth, giving her a taste of his warmth and of him.
People cheered.
He stepped away. “Thanks.”
What was happening? Her lips tingled. She forced herself not to touch them.
And then she realized they were still on stage in front of people—friends, family, and strangers. “Follow me.”
