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Sid tightens her hand in mine as I lead her up the stairs to Leo’s studio.
“This isn’t happening,” I hear her mutter, but I don’t answer.
The red recording light is off above the door, so I open it, and we step inside. This is a full-functioning recording studio, with instruments and a sound booth. Several Nash albums have been recorded here, along with other famous performers’ albums when they’ve come to collaborate with Leo.
Sidney’s smile is a mile wide as she takes it all in.
“There you are,” Leo says, waving us in. “Brax and I have been playing with some music, but we need a female’s perspective. And I’m glad you came up, Keaton, because we need someone on the keys.”
Sidney spins around and gapes up at me. “You can play?”
“A little.”
“A lot,” Leo says, rolling his eyes. “Come on, we have work to do.”
Chapter 7
Sidney
Keaton can play.
Not just a little bit, either. This man plays better than some of the people I’ve toured with, and that’s saying a lot.
I could sit and watch him play all day.
“Do you need a guitar?” Leo asks me, after watching me play an imaginary one while I sing. I can’t help it. I’m used to playing while I brainstorm, whether it’s a guitar or a piano.
I beat the habit while I’m on stage.
“Sure, if you have a spare. I just think better with it, if that makes sense.”
“Makes complete sense,” Brax says with a grin. “Hey, I want to just say that I’m a fan of your work, Sidney. I didn’t say anything before because there wasn’t a good time, and I didn’t want to embarrass you or put you on the spot in front of the others, but I really love your music.”
“Thank you.” I feel my cheeks flush the way they always do when someone compliments my music. “And likewise. I’m loving your new album.”
“Okay, as much as I can appreciate this conversation, the mutual lovefest is over,” Leo says with a grin. “Let’s play. I’ve been on hiatus for a while, and I need some time with other musicians. Sam’s probably going to make us go downstairs at some point to play for everyone.”
I grin over at Keaton, who’s been waiting patiently behind the baby grand piano. There’s also a complex keyboard system in here, but Keaton said he prefers the piano.
“Okay, I like the second verse, but what if you did this instead?” I rest the guitar Leo offered me on my thigh and, from memory, begin to play the melody that Leo and Brax have already played at least a dozen times, but I switch up the lyrics a bit.
“Oh, that’s good,” Leo says, nodding and picking up the chorus with me.
Brax and Keaton join in, and for the next hour, we write an absolutely gorgeous song that has my creative juices flowing and energy bouncing off me.
“This is my favorite part of my job,” I admit with a grin when we take a break from the song. “The creation of it all.”
“Do you sing many of your own songs?” Leo asks.
“Almost all the songs on my albums have been mine,” I reply with a nod. “Sometimes they’re a collaboration, and usually one or two of the tracks are written by someone else. But I’ve always been lucky that the producers have liked my songs.”
“Are you taking requests?” Brax asks with a grin.
“Sure. What do you want to hear?”
“‘Life in the Slow Lane’. It’s my favorite of yours.”
I grin and strum the strings, pulling the song to the forefront of my brain. This one is from my second album and has always been a fan favorite.
“Sure.” I clear my throat and begin to play it on the guitar. After a few beats, Keaton joins me on the piano, which surprises me. He’s watching me with those calm, intense green eyes.
It’s damn intimate.
Leo and Brax both sit back and listen as I sing my way through the ballad that I wrote when I was home between tours what feels like so many years ago. I’d been so homesick, and I wanted to stay there, in my childhood home on the lake, forever.
When the song’s over, and the last notes disappear into the air, the three men erupt into applause, making me laugh.
“If we’re going to play more of our backlists, we’d better go downstairs and do it for everyone,” Leo says with a sigh. “I have the sound equipment set up.”
“Do you always perform live shows at family gatherings?” I ask as Leo and Brax grab their guitars.
“When we host, yes,” Leo says. “Sometimes my band comes with their families, too.”
“Wow. That sounds like fun.”
He grins at me. “It is. You’ll have to come to the next one.”
I blink and glance over at Keaton, who’s listening and smiling at me with that sexy half smile.
