“I love your house.” I took a drink and settled into the sofa so that I was facing her. “It’s really cozy.”
“Thank you.” She took a sip of her wine. “I’ve only been here a few months, but it’s finally starting to feel like home. Honestly, the best thing is living so close to the shop. I love walking to work, and this neighborhood is really nice. Ella and Grace live close by too, so I’ve got everything I need here.” There was a knock on the door, and she started to get up. “That must be the food.”
“Let me get it,” I offered, setting my glass down on the rustic white coffee table. I answered the door, snagged our food, and tipped the driver. “This smells amazing.” I returned to the couch with the bag, extracting the two containers and the plastic flatware. Liv grabbed one of the containers, lifting the lid. Balancing the food with one hand, she grabbed the remote off the coffee table with the other and flicked the television on.
“I have a very important question for you,” she said with mock seriousness. “Not to be dramatic, but your answer does determine whether we’ll make it through to dinner.”
“So, no pressure, right?” I shrugged. I could hear the sounds of the rain and the storm rumbling outside.
“Somuch pressure.” She pulled up her Netflix account on the television. “What are your feelings onThe Office?”
“You mean the greatest show of all time?” I took a drink of my wine. “You know, as much as I loved ‘The Dinner Party,’ I really am partial to Jim and Pam’s wedding. Did I pass the test?”
“With flying colors.” She grinned and hit play. We ate our lunch and watched the show, simultaneously talking about our favorite scenes. We’d made it through a couple of episodes and glasses of wine when a loud clap of thunder rattled the house, leaving us in the dark. “Shit.” She laughed. “So much for a Netflix binge.”
I peeked through the blinds of the window behind the sofa. “It’s really coming down out there.”
“I’ll be right back.” She padded out of the room, quickly returning with the opened bottle of wine and one large candle that flickered in the dim light of the room. She placed it on the coffee table, her beautiful face illuminated by its golden glow as she sat next to me.
“Can I ask you a question?” I scooted closer to her as she topped off our wine glasses.
“Hmm?”
“The guitar,” I said tentatively. “You said youused toplay. What happened?”
She took a heavy drink of her wine and settled into the sofa, facing me with her legs crossed beneath her. “My whole life I wanted to be a singer and write songs.”
“Are you serious?” My eyes widened.
“Yeah, but that was a long time ago.” She took another sip from her glass. “I got my first guitar when I was thirteen. I think my folks liked it because they always knew where I was. I wasn’t out getting into trouble. I was in my room writing songs about boys who had no idea I existed.”
“That seems unlikely,” I said softly. “It’d be impossible not to notice you.” Even in the flickering glow of the candle, I could see her blush.
“My parents got me this guitar as a graduation present, and I opted not to go to college. Instead, I had a fake ID made and started playing in bars when I wasn’t even old enough to drink.”
“Wow. I am completely floored.”
“Ella and I got an apartment together. She was working retail at the time, and I was playing in every honky-tonk that would let me on stage. During the day, I started a side business baking cakes and cupcakes for people to help pay the rent. Baking wasn’t my passion, but it’s what I was good at.” She sighed heavily, looking down at her glass. “Anyway, I met my hus… my ex, Ben, when I was twenty. In the beginning, he was okay with my music, but after we got married, things started really taking off for him. The further he got in his career, the less comfortable he became with mine. The last thing he wanted was to be courting potential clients downtown and see his wife playing for cheap beer and tips at Tootsie’s. So, I stopped.”
“You just stopped?” Her eyes fell, and I wanted to reach out and hold her hand.
“Yep.” She took another long drink from her glass. “Ben was right anyway. At that point, it would have been embarrassing for him. Honestly, it was probably equally as embarrassing for me to be chasing a dream that was never going to happen. I guess I didn’t have that elusiveitfactor.”
“Says who?” I asked the question, but she didn’t answer, which was all the answer I needed. I wanted to know more. I wanted every single detail about who Olivia Sinclair was, but I feared she would shut down if I tried to push any further. “Well, I know what’s got to happen now.” I took her wine glass from her hand, placing it on the table along with my own. I pulled her guitar from its case and handed it over to her. “I’m going to need to hear you sing.”
“Jax, really. It’s been forever.”
“No better time to change that than now,” I insisted. “Please. I want to hear you.”
She reluctantly took the guitar and settled it in her lap, her fingers gliding over the frets. “I don’t normally give private concerts. Especially not to bonafide rockstars sitting in my living room.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “I want to make it clear that I’m only doing this because I’m two glasses of wine in.”
I raised my brow at her and leaned forward, waiting. “Noted.”
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Finally, she began to play. I immediately recognized the opening notes to a slowed-down version of “Ring of Fire” by Johnny Cash.
Her voice started off soft, gravelly, and haunting, but slowly it began to build. By the time she reached the chorus, her vocals became more powerful with a bluesy twang. Her voice cracked, raw with emotion, in all the right places. Trained vocalists took lessons for years to learn how to do what Liv was doing effortlessly. I’d never envied a musical instrument before, but as I watched her fingers move smoothly over the fretboard, I knew I’d let this woman play me any way she wanted to. When she finished the song, she opened her eyes to find me gazing intently at her.
“What?” She grimaced, reaching out to take a sip of her wine. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
