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Chapter Thirteen
Emily’s fingers gently rested over his to take the microphone. “It’s my turn, I guess.”
“I can’t wait.”
She broke into a fragile smile.
His heart lit up at that one move—he was the luckiest man alive to be able to share this moment with her. For now, he had her to himself. And when he didn’t?
He’d worry about the competition when it came.
Nash wanted to help her. He’d never stopped to consider how he might seem like a tangle of contradictions. His serious moments never bothered him. It was part of who he was. The world might say that you could only be one thing or the other, nothing in between, but he enjoyed a good laugh, as much as he enjoyed getting deep. And he could go from one spectrum to the other.
That’s what he liked about Emily. It seemed that she did, too.
A loud group of patrons walked through Noteworthy’s doors, clamoring for tables. The young server scrambled to greet them. Nash bit down a muttered noise of disappointment. It had been perfect when it was only the two of them. He glanced over at Emily, who watched the group carefully.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I can’t breathe.”
“Oh.” Concern flooded him.
She squeezed his arm with a sudden laugh. “It’s this corset. Talk about a fashion statement. I have no idea why Mia insisted on it, but she… well…” She blushed. “She said that you’d love it.”
And Emily cared? His insides warmed with sudden hope. “I do,” he said with a grin. This night was growing more intriguing by the second. “Let me get that for you.” He moved her shoulders to work on the ties against her back. Trying to free the knots felt like he was performing surgery… or maybe just turning into her costume designer. The more he loosened the fashion accessory from her shirt, the more he could see her back expand with the freedom of her movement.
Whoa! It struck him how intimate this felt, but it was only his head making it feel so—and his eyes and his heart—and, of course, the scent of her hair. The sweet fragrance of strawberries ambushed his nostrils again.
A movement caught his attention, and he noticed someone taking pictures of them. Great! Mia was right about the paparazzi, though it had taken them a little longer to figure out where they’d gone. This wasn’t going to help put Emily at ease.
He knew what would. Playfulness. Lots of it. “Don’t look now,” he said, forcing his voice to stay light, “but I think you’re getting your bad reputation.”
She swung around, her braid hitting him. The room was on its way to being a packed house. Someone must’ve shared a TalkieTalk photo with their friends on social media. She clutched at the corset that he was slowly working off of her. “I don’t think this is what Mia meant by helping my image,” she whispered. Her expression was stricken.
“I know.” He held her still to get the last of the corset. Pulling it free from her fascinating medieval style shirt, he set it on the stool. “Sorry.” He noticed that her eyes were on the crowd. “Look at me,” he said. “Just look at me. I’m the only one here.”
Pursing her lips, she did. Her eyes were a storm of emotion.
“Repeat after me,” he said.
She closed her eyes. “Yes?”
“I won’t let my brother kill me.”
She giggled.
“But really,” he said. “Repeat this—I’m a great singer.”
“I’m a great singer… and this is going to be fun.” She inhaled a deep and calming yoga breath. “Just have fun. Just love this, love them, love yourself.”
She’d listened. His breath caught. Would his advice actually help her? Seeing the determined tilt of her chin, he felt as proud as when he’d taught Lizardman to catch a ball in the air… okay, maybe a little more than that.
“Play ‘Alone,’ by Heart,” she told the adolescent DJ sitting behind the table. He scrambled to get the karaoke on.
Nash grinned. That was a belting song, one full of passion with a huge range… could she do it?
She picked up her mic just as the room dimmed. A stream of blue lights danced past her face like fingers on a harp. He took the stool where she’d been a few minutes before, brushing away her discarded corset. He’d better keep an eye on that.
