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His woman.
That did have a nice ring to it.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Oakley sat in the control room with Pike, watching the kids rehearse through the viewing window, and trying to ignore how good Pike smelled. She hadn’t seen him in a few days, but the night he’d come over while she was working hadn’t been far from her mind since it had happened. Her heart had lurched when she’d woken the next morning and found him gone. But when he’d called her later that day to see if he could come by, she’d told him no. She had thought she could handle it, roll with the punches, deal with her feelings. But even a taste of that hurt had made her terrified of what it would be like if she got in any deeper. The fact that she was missing him so much when he wasn’t around was stupid. And dangerous. And dumb.
He’d told her he’d landed the Wanderlust tour and would leave in a few weeks—on the road through the summer and into the fall. Baby or not, he’d be gone. And she needed to prepare for that.
Pike leaned over a microphone and hit a button. “That sounded great, you guys. Why don’t you do a run-through of ‘Blue Skies’ now and we’ll see if we’re ready to record?”
The kids murmured to one another, their excitement evident to Oakley even though she couldn’t decipher what they were saying through her headphones. She knew they’d all been waiting anxiously to do the real recording. Reagan hadn’t talked about anything else for days.
Pike smiled her way, and she took off her headphones. He slid his set down to hang around his neck. “I think we’re going to make it on time with this. They sound great. As soon as Reagan took over the lead, everything gelled. Even the kid on drums is finally getting his cues right. We may be able to get one track recorded before I have to head out tonight.”
Pike had told her the rest of his band was meeting up here with the guy in charge of the Wanderlust tour to go over last-minute details with them—which he said meant going out, getting the guy drunk, and schmoozing him. So they were on borrowed time this evening.
She smiled at the scene in the window. “The kids sound fantastic. I can’t believe how far they’ve come in just a few weeks. This might actually work.”
He laughed and then put a hand over his heart, feigning a wounded look. “You doubted my immense ability to hone raw talent into greatness?”
She sniffed. “I will give it to you. You’re pretty amazing at this producing thing. I know my experience is limited. I’ve only worked with two other producers in my life. But you definitely have that thing. You hear the opportunities in the song that I would’ve missed, the chances to elevate it. And you can pluck out the strengths in the performers. Like I never would’ve pegged Tenisha as a singer since her voice doesn’t have a lot of range, but that girl can harmonize with the others like a champ.”
Pike smiled, openly pleased. “Thanks, mama. That means a lot because most of the time I’m still feeling my way through this side of things. The guys thought I was crazy for buying this place. But I love it. That’s always been my favorite part of being in a band—the creation side of it. I love performing, but figuring out how to create a song out of nothing, how to play to each person’s talents—that gets my blood pumping.”
The childlike enthusiasm in his voice warmed her. Pike was easy to look at anytime, but the passion he housed inside that outer shell was what drew her to him. The man loved what he did and it showed. She barely remembered what that felt like. “I get that. I used to feel that way when I’d write new songs. I didn’t even care if anyone was going to hear them. It was the process that I loved.”
“Yeah, that reminds me …” Pike leaned back in his chair, pulled a stack of papers from the counter behind him, the springs in the chair giving a creak, and slid a document in front of her. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Her belly clenched, the legal document in front of her filled with lots of tiny print. What the hell? Her mind went straight in one direction. Was he already drafting up legal stuff in case there was a baby? She didn’t know if she could handle that right now. “What’s this?”
He rocked slightly in his chair, as casual as could be. “So I kind of did something behind your back. You can hurt me later if you feel the urge.”
Her eyes scanned the top of the document but it was all legalese. “What are you talking about? What is this?”
“Remember that track you recorded here?”
Her gaze swung toward him, anxiety hopping like jackrabbits in her stomach. “Hard to forget, Pike.”
He smiled. “Yeah, well, I edited out the uh … X-rated second half of the recording and layered in some more instrumentation to make a demo of the first s
ong, ‘Dandelion.’”
She blinked. “You did what?”
“I just wanted to see how it would sound when it was polished up. And damn, Oakley, it sounds great. You won’t even believe how good it turned out.”
“Why would you do that?” Her voice sounded thin in the small space.
“Look, I know if I would’ve asked, you would’ve shut me down. But I have a friend at a music publisher who was looking for some ballads. I had a feeling ‘Dandelion’ would be up her alley. So I might have sent it to her. And she might have loved it.”
“What?”
He nodded at the document. “She wants to take on ‘Dandelion.’ They’ve been looking for a song for Harley Jay’s new album and Harley loved it. The advance isn’t crazy money or anything, but it’s Harley Jay. Her last album went gold, and she’s got lots of buzz around her, so this could mean real money down the line. And they want to see your other stuff.”
Oakley stared at him, looked back at the document, then at him again. None of the words were making sense. This couldn’t be happening. “Pike …”
He reached out and took her hand. “I know I should’ve asked you first. You’re not committed to anything unless you sign the contract. But I wanted you to see that I wasn’t bullshitting you about your songwriting. You’re good, Oakley. You could do this for real. Make real money. Drop the late-night phone calls.”
