“Makes sense.” Even if he wanted to kiss her again. “So what music publishers do you recommend?”
* * *
The sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky when he pulled into a park in Riston. Based on signs he’d passed, the small town appeared to be the home of a destination resort called River’s End Ranch.
So far, no one from the PR firm had notified him he could ditch his disguise, so he hadn’t. But with the temperature in the eighties, the beanie made his head sweat and itch.
He exited his car and walked toward the grass. Under a big tree, Ivy sat on a blanket as she spread out their lunch.
Nash sat next to her. “Hey, darlin’.”
She laughed. “You can drop the country star persona. Though it worked on my family last night.”
Yeah, he should have thought before he spoke to them. “They hate me.”
“Hate might be extreme, but they’re willing to give you a second chance since I am.” She removed the top off a plastic container before holding it out to him. “Strawberry?”
He took one and popped it in his mouth. “Delicious.”
“From Carter’s farm. It’s organic.”
“You said he runs it.”
“Runs and owns it with his wife, Avery,” Ivy explained. “She stayed home last night because her horse wasn’t feeling well. But Mercury is doing better today.”
Even though Nash sang country music and owned a house on acreage, the country lifestyle was unknown to him. He’d grown up in Atlanta and not the best part of the city.
A bird flew overhead. On a nearby path, a family of five walked their two dogs. Beyond them, a little boy and his father attempted to fly a kite despite there not being much wind.
“This is nice.” Nash surveyed the spread of food. “You went all out.”
She shrugged. “My family has big parties to celebrate every holiday, big or small, but I don’t go on many picnics like this.”
“Because of your music.”
Ivy nodded. “And it’s not much fun alone.”
“We’ll redefine fun today.”
Ivy brightened. “I’d like that.”
He enjoyed being outdoors instead of in his hotel room.
She handed him a plate. “Help yourself.”
Nash did, popping another strawberry in his mouth before adding half a roast beef sandwich and potato salad onto his plate. “How did you get into singing?”
“My dad.” Her smile was bittersweet. “He loved all types of music. We used to dance and sing when I was little. He taught me to play the piano and guitar, too.”
A sweet story, but if she was only doing music for her dead father that wouldn’t be enough to pull her through the tough times. It would also explain why she gave up before.
“Is music a way for you to remember your dad?” Nash asked.
“Sort of, but I’m not performing for him.” She gazed off in the distance. “My dad was the catalyst for me falling in love with music. He supported me whether I was in a production at school or dreaming about moving to Nashville. When he died, things were hard and my plan to head east was put on hold, but music is the way I express myself. I would have discovered it with or without my dad. Though I’m happy that’s something we shared.”
Okay, that was the answer Nash needed to hear.
“Why did you want a career in music?” she asked.
