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Chapter Thirty-Seven
Emily stared up at the screen while her band played the instrumental. Her heart pounded against her ribs with this strange adrenaline rush—it was like she’d gone to the top of the rollercoaster and was still plummeting to the bottom, and crazily enough, she was having the time of her life.
Only Nash could inspire feelings like that.
She could scarcely comprehend such brilliance as she watched this viral footage play out their love story above. She hadn’t seen this clip, but she remembered it well:
Nash grabbed Emily’s suitcases on their way out of town. “Get your pretty little self in my truck, woman.”
Someone had expertly cut up this footage, skipping to every juicy part, so that Nash was moving to her door and leaning against it. She remembered that well; every part of her had tingled with anticipation when she had seen the desire in his eyes as he’d watched her. This was no different. The puppy had lovingly attacked her with doggy kisses, and Nash had pretended to be jealous.“What?” he complained. “Lizardman did nothing to help!”
“Oh, poor boy.”Emily’s hands had gone to his hair next. Wowie wow. Emily’s breath caught. She could still feel the thickness beneath her fingers. The shot jumped to Nash pulling her against his chest for a kiss. The next instant, she was cleaning up that lipstick from his face when they caught the photographer taking pictures. The next cut was of them peeling away in his truck, their gazes locked through the back window just as the puppy wriggled between them.
Emily laughed through her own embarrassment. Her face felt just as hot as it had been at the beginning of that road trip when she’d noticed that Nash was taking every excuse to touch her. She’d been startled and pleased how he’d acted when there were no cameras around.
The screen changed to stock footage of the countryside. Emily realized this was her cue to pick up the song again. She lifted the mic, skipping gamely through the first few lines of the next verse, so that she could catch up with her band:
“City roads turn into country. Something about you that seems so right.
We’ve got everything we need—just you and me and the dog.
If you’re so bad for me, why do we make such good music together?
Let’s get ready for some little Miss-Conduct!”
“What about that payment?”Nash’s own voice echoed through the county fairgrounds from the speaker.
Goodness! Who had helped him put this together? This was timed perfectly with her music. They were back to the blackmail footage. On the screen, Emily clung to Nash’s neck while he watched her in that way that always made her knees go weak.“I’m sure we can work something out,”she said.
He must’ve recorded her practicing this song days earlier from when he’d given Liv that remote. The thoughtfulness of what he’d been doing while they were separated warmed her heart just as he’d done when he’d cuddled her near the campfire.
And it was time to finish up this song.
“Why does this hurt so bad?”She’d never felt these words so powerfully. A part of her was aware that it was coming out in her performance.
“You’ve been bad again… one wrong move, bad boy, and I’ll steal your dog. You’ve got me turning into Little Miss Demeanor.”
She’d taken his lyric suggestion there—he’d always been pretty brilliant. Could it be that they really had a chance after this? Once again, her emotions came through as she finished the song off with a bang.
“I’ll never be Little Miss Miss-ery! You’ve got a way of making your bad feel so good. Our little Miss-take was the best one of our lives. Yessiree!”
Was Nash out there? Did he approve of how she’d ended the song on a more hopeful note? She repeated the first line.“Oh woe is me, little ol’ Miss Small Town met the bad boy from Tennessee.”
And then she was done. The fairgrounds erupted into cheers and whistles. She couldn’t believe she’d survived her first major scandal. She couldn’t have done it without Nash.
Emily laughed, feeling like she floated about ten feet above the stage as the mic carried her happy sound through the air. “Sorry for the cheap publicity stunt, friends. Hopefully we’re through with surprises tonight.” Although, a new one started to brew inside her head. Nash was out there somewhere. She knew it. What if she could coax him up so that she could see with her own two eyes that he was okay? “I can’t take credit for that music video though,” she said. “That was completely Nash’s idea.”
More cheers. He was easily becoming a crowd favorite.
“The thing is… Iama fraud.” Emily thought it was important to admit that now. “I thought I could have the guts to perform by putting out an image that wasn’t me, and Nash? Well, he kinda showed me that I was wrong, that it feels better to just let myself shine through all this hoopla. I don’t need the polish or the glamour to make that connection with you because honestly, we already have a lot in common—I’m the girl next door. I’m Little Miss Harvest Ranch through and through, so uh… if you see Nash out there with you, do you think that you could tell him to come up here? I’d like to return the favor.”
“Marry him!” someone shouted out from the crowd.
Her heart lurched. She’d take him in a second… she’d already accepted his proposal. Was that offer still on the table?
She had a feeling that it wasn’t, because if it was then he would’ve told her by now. Smiling—this time with more bravery than substance—she decided to go back to the original set list of songs. “You ready to start this night?” she called out.
The concertgoers screamed out in unison.
“Good, let’s do it!” Her band started the beginning notes of “Hot Summer Days.”
Let’s just say that Nash had inspired that too.
