“Sorry, I couldn’t wait another second.” His voice was low and rough as his gaze darted to my lips again, like he was already planning a return trip.
“I’m glad you didn’t.” I meant it.
He slowly steadied me on my feet, and I blinked as the rest of the world came into focus. Oh God. Nixon had just kissed me in front of the entire town, and I’d liked it. “Liked” wasn’t even the right word. I’d been consumed by it—by him.
What was he thinking?
Scratch that. What was I thinking? I was supposed to be keeping him sober, not kissing him, let alone jumping him in the park.
And what was that sound?
I stepped away from Nixon, but he simply moved to my side, keeping his hand at my waist as the other adjusted the angle of the cup I was holding—and spilling, hence the sound. I’d sloshed out at least half of our cider onto the grass.
“This one’s yours,” I muttered.
“Thanks, Zo.” He pressed a kiss to my temple and took the cup from my hand. “Who’s your friend?”
My face whipped forward.
Peter stood in front of us with his mouth gaping open, and it clicked. The kiss. The baby. The adoring look. It was all for Peter’s sake. How much of our conversation had Nixon heard? Was I supposed to be thankful for Nixon’s intervention or pissed it hadn’t been real? Because I was both.
“Peter Whitcomb.” He stuck his hand out in a rush. “You’re not who I think you are…are you?”
“Peter.” Nixon shifted his cup and shook Peter’s hand before reclaiming my waist. “Depends on who you think I am.”
Peter’s gaze shifted between Nixon and me a few times, his eyes narrowing. “You’re Nixon Winters.”
“Yes.” Nixon offered him the media smile and tugged me closer to his side.
“And you’re with…” Peter looked outright befuddled as he stared at me.
My spine stiffened. Oh, fuck it.
I settled against Nixon, sliding my hand under his jacket and up his back as I sipped my cider, letting Peter draw his own conclusion.
“Well…yeah.” Nixon raised his eyebrows. “Why else would I be here?”
Peter’s eyes widened to nearly impossible proportions.
“There you are!” Laura appeared from the crowd, grabbing Peter’s arm and hugging it. “You sounded great, sweetie.” She flashed a fake smile at me and tilted her head. “Hey, Zoe…nice to see you.”
“Laura.” It was most definitely not nice to see her, but it was a far cry from the agony I’d felt when I’d bumped into her during a visit my freshman year. Sometimes small towns were just too small. “How’s the family?”
Nixon’s gaze darted to mine, darkening with question as he squeezed my waist once.
I nodded slightly, lifting my cup.
“We have two kids now. Girls. You know, married life.” She shrugged and sang it in that completely passive aggressive tone she’d apparently kept since high school.
“She would if she’d ever agree to marry me,” Nixon said with a sigh. “I swear I ask her at least once a week, but she keeps holding out.”
I nearly spit out my cider.
Nixon patted my back. “You okay, baby?”
I nodded, barely managing to swallow.
“Sweetie, Nixon here is the lead guitarist for Hush Note,” Peter told his wife.
She looked Nixon up and down like he wasn’t wearing any clothes, and my blood pressure spiked. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere. It’s harder with that hat on.”
“Did you hear me play?” Peter blurted, his eyes lighting up.
“I did.” Nixon nodded slowly, then finished off his cider.
“And?” Peter prodded.
My hand tensed on Nixon’s back, and my stomach dropped. He’d never been known for candy-coating his opinion on anything, especially music.
“And…it was…something,” he offered. “Babe, why don’t we go—”
“You two are impossible to find,” Jeremiah announced as he came up on my left. “Which is ironic since you’d think Nixon would stand out like a sore thumb.” He glanced between the four of us but didn’t say a word about the way Nixon and I stood wrapped around each other. Instead, he leveled a flat stare on Peter.
If this had been a board game, we would have reached a whole other level of awkward.
“Hey, Laura.” A brunette I had a vague memory of waved from about ten feet away. “We need you up front to do the donations update.”
“Of course.” She gave us all a beaming smile, ending with Nixon. “Gotta run.”
She hurried off, leaving me standing with someone I loved, someone I used to love, and someone who was pretending to love me.
“This is why I don’t go to reunions,” I whispered at Nixon in a hiss.
“Imagine how much fun I would be at your reunion,” he whispered back, adding a wink.
“Right, so if you ever need a backup guitarist—” Peter started.
Kill me now.
“He’s sure as hell not calling you.” Jeremiah laughed.
“Why? Because his girlfriend makes the decisions for the band?” Peter snapped back, rolling his eyes.
“Actually, she does,” Nixon stated, like it was an assessment of the weather.
My cheeks heated as everyone’s focus shifted to me.
“She’s the assistant manager,” Nixon added with a shrug.
I was the assistant to the manager, but right now didn’t seem like the best time to argue semantics. “Let’s go find my parents,” I said softly to Nixon.
“Bullshit.” Peter’s voice held every note of disbelief possible to fit in two syllables.
“She is,” Nixon argued without raising his tone.
“You work for Hush Note?” Peter shook his head. “No way.”
“It’s not like it’s a secret.” My unflinching eyes met Peter’s wide ones.
“We keep it quiet,” Jeremiah admitted to me. “Figure if you wanted anyone to know, you’d post it on the social media you don’t have.”
“Wait, you don’t have social media?” Nixon’s mouth dropped.
“Not the time.” I lifted my brows.
“Just wait until we have our next argument about the requirement that I have one.” The corner of his lips lifted in a smirk.
“It’s not remotely the same, and you know it.” The only people who wanted to keep up on my life were in my family.
“It’s not?”
“It’s not,” I confirmed. “I’d have all of six followers, and all of them live right here in Legacy. Besides, I’m too busy making sure someone else’s social media is well-managed and just a little less colorful than his real life.”
“I’d follow you.” He leaned down slightly, wicked delight dancing through his brown eyes. “Twitter. Instagram. Even Facebook. I’d love to know what your Hogwarts House and Disney Princess mash-up quiz says.”
I scoffed but couldn’t halt the smile spreading across my face. “Guess you’ll never know.”
He flicked his tongue over his lower lip and studied me. “The first is easy. You’re a Ravenclaw with that incredibly sexy brain of yours. And your hair is all Ariel, but you spend your days trapped with a beast, so I might have to go with Belle.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I tilted my face up toward his.
“I’m right.” He lowered his just a fraction, his attention shifting to my mouth.
“Now it makes sense,” Peter said, popping the little bubble Nixon and I had found ourselves in again.
“What does?” Jeremiah asked.
“Is he how you got the job?” Peter challenged, nodding toward Nixon.
“No.” Nausea washed over me.
Nixon’s muscles turned to stone under my fingertips, and his weight shifted, reminding me of a jungle cat preparing to strike.
“Yeah, okay. You’ve been out of college, what? Four years?” Peter smirked, which was oddly disgusting considering how sexy the same expression was on Nixon’s
face.
“You’d better not be implying what I think you are,” Jeremiah growled.
“And all four years she’s worked for us.” Nixon’s hand flexed at my waist. I locked my elbow over his fingers like that would provide some modicum of barrier to any impending explosion. There were hundreds of cell phones in this crowd. “I’m going to say this once. If you’re implying that she got to where she is by sleeping with me, let me assure you, that’s not the case. I met her after she was hired, and I didn’t have the balls to make a move on her until recently because, as you can see, Zoe is clearly out of my league.”
Peter swallowed.
The nausea evaporated, but my chest swelled at Nixon’s words, even if they were only for Peter’s benefit.
The microphone shrieked into the speakers, causing a crowd-wide cringe.
“Oh, sorry about that!” Laura apologized from the stage of the amphitheater. “Hi, everyone! I’m Laura Whitcomb, but you already knew that.” She flashed a smile, and the crowd chuckled.
“You’re way hotter,” Nixon whispered in my ear.
“Stop,” I whispered back.
“Thank you all for coming out for the seventy-ninth annual Fall Festival!” She clapped, and the crowd followed suit. “Now, there’s two hours left to get your cake bids in, and the Legacy Fire Department has assured me they have more hot dogs on the way, but I just wanted to tell you we’ve already doubled last year’s donations!”
This time, I joined in with the applause. There were so many good causes being represented tonight.
“We don’t have any more entertainment scheduled for tonight before the auction results, but I happen to know that Nixon Winters of Hush Note is in the crowd. Isn’t that amazing?”
Cheers sounded all around us.
“Oh shit,” I whispered, my shoulders deflating. “Nixon, I’m so sorry.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. Nixon was normally cool with being publicly outed as long as it was on his terms, but these weren’t his terms, and this situation was far from normal.
“What do you say we ask him to play something just for us?” Laura lifted her hands.
The cheers around us only intensified.
“She didn’t,” I hissed. I couldn’t even remember the last time Nixon had performed sober…or solo. I turned to Nixon. “I will take care of this. Stay with Jeremiah.”
Without waiting for his answer, I stepped out of his arms and slid through the crowd. The chill bit at me without Nixon’s warmth, but my anger was hot enough to burn the hair right off Laura’s head.
I marched up the steps at the side of the stage and crooked my finger at her.
“Oh! Zoe Shannon is here to give us his answer!” She abandoned the mic and walked toward me with a self-satisfied little smile I wanted to swipe right off her face. “Well?”
“You can go fuck yourself,” I said with a smile of my own.
Laura blinked at me. “What?”
“You heard what I said. You didn’t even ask him, and you think he’s going to, what? Pull a guitar out of thin air and perform because you said so?”
“He can play Peter’s guitar,” she answered with a shrug. “And come on. It would make tonight unforgettable.”
My eyes narrowed. “Because you’re chairing the festival committee.”
“Co-chair with Peter’s mom. So what? You brought a rock star home.” She lifted her eyebrows.
“The answer is no. I understand that you’re not familiar with the word, so listen again. No. And I’m not even going to put him in the position of saying it. I’m saying it for him.” With every scenario I’d run through regarding Nixon finding himself in the spotlight in my tiny town, I’d never expected the actual spotlight.
“Are you serious?” Laura challenged.
“As a heart—”
“Shannon.” His voice hit me straight in the heart. We were back to the last name, putting us firmly on professional footing. I’d failed him.
I turned to find Nixon standing two steps below me, making us eye level. My family waited right behind him. “I told her no.”
“I heard.” His jaw clenched.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
He softened with a sigh. “There’s no reason for you to be. I dragged you here, remember?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t mean you have to play.”
“But we’d love it!” Laura added, popping up behind me. “I mean, if Zoe won’t let you, the town will understand, but no one like you has ever been here—”
“Shut up, Laura,” I snapped over my shoulder.
Nixon laughed. “Look who’s losing her temper now.”
“If she thinks you’re going to fall for such blatant manipulation, she obviously doesn’t know you. Which she doesn’t.” I bit that last part back at her.
She backed away, her palms up slightly.
“I wouldn’t do it for her, anyway.” His gaze intensified, turning molten. “But I’ll do it for you.”
I felt my defenses melt like an ice cube dropped into warm water. “Nixon,” I whispered.
“It’s okay. You’ll never hear the end of it when you come home, and that’s not fair to you.” He unzipped his jacket, and I moved down a step, holding it closed.
“It’s not fair to you either. You don’t have Quinn or Jonas or your guitar…”
Or the alcohol.
“I’ll be fine. I am fine. Let me do this for you. Consider it my penance for barging into your private life.” A corner of his lips lifted, and his gaze turned to steel.
I knew that look. He’d made his decision. With a nod, I stepped back, helping him with his jacket. By the time he removed the skull cap and ruffled his hair, he wasn’t the Nixon I’d spent the last two weeks with.
He was the rock star.
I handed his things to Jeremiah and turned to see Laura pick up Peter’s guitar from the side of the stage and offer it to Nixon.
He looked straight at me.
Right.
“Thank you,” I said to her, taking the guitar from her hands and giving it to Nixon, cutting her off completely.
“Let me know if you need anything!” she called over my shoulder, but Nixon was already busy tuning the guitar.
“You good?” I asked over my shoulder, unwilling to turn my back on Laura.
“I’m good.” Nixon had the strap over his shoulder and was plugging the aux cord into the guitar.
“Sorry, he doesn’t speak to venue staff.” I offered her a professional smile, then walked off the stage to stand at the edge of the front row with my family.
“Did she really put him on the spot like that?” Mom asked, her brow puckered with worry.
“She did,” I answered as Nixon took the microphone.
“Your wife is a piece of work,” Mom said to Peter, who’d moved to stand at my right.
“Why? I’m sure he gets asked all the time,” Peter remarked, crossing his arms.
My breath caught at the sight of Nixon up there. He didn’t just take a stage, he devoured it with the kind of presence only he had. Quinn was the beat of a show, she drove it forward. Jonas brought the heart. Nixon…he was the energy, the palpable hum of excitement. It seemed to emanate from him like a magnetic field, drawing everyone a little closer.
That wicked smile of his broke across his face as he stepped into the spotlight, and the crowd cheered. It was the smallest crowd he’d played to in years, and yet none of them knew how momentous this was. They were the first he’d gotten in front of since rehab.
“Hi there.” He pushed up the sleeves of his Henley, revealing the tattoos running down his arms.
Another cheer sounded.
“So usually, I have a couple other people up here with me, but it’s just me tonight.” He turned toward me, his gaze catching Peter’s. “Peter, I hope you don’t mind that your wife offered up your guitar.”
“It’s fine with me!” Peter called back.
The crowd laughed.
>
“It’s in better hands,” I muttered.
Mom pinned me with a glare.
Dad laughed.
“Quinn and Jonas—they’re the other two-thirds of Hush Note, for those of you who don’t know who I am or why someone put a guitar in my hands—we always talk about doing a concert series in smaller, more intimate venues, but I never considered branching out on a solo tour.”
I held my breath, thinking of every song in his arsenal he could whip out right now.
His gaze locked onto mine. “But for Zoe, I’ll make an exception. Just for the next three minutes and seventeen seconds.”
Another murmur of laughter rolled through the crowd, but still, he looked right at me.
“I think there’s something to be said for Zoe Shannon—”
My stomach pitched as the crowd cheered. They didn’t know him like I did—know he could go either way—sweet or sarcastic—in this moment.
“Something to be said for the hearts who dream big. You see, a wise woman once said that it takes two kinds of people in the industry to bring the music to life. Those with the talent to make it, and those with the brains to make sure that music gets heard. I’ll amend that wise statement to add, it takes talent, brains, and a nearly obsessive level of drive to get the music heard, and Zoe has all three. Tonight is a perfect example, since I wouldn’t be up on this stage if she wasn’t involved in Hush Note.”
Another round of cheers rose from my little town. As backward as his reasoning was for being here, that was the truth. There was a bona fide rock star on my little town’s stage because I’d worked my ass off to get and stay where I was.
He grinned, and, God help me, my heart jolted.
Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t fall.
“So tonight, this one is for you, Zoe.” He winked, then finger-picked the opening chord to “Courage of Fools,” a widely overlooked song off their first album.
They hadn’t released it as a single. Hadn’t made a video or promoted it. In fact, it had barely made the album, according to the people who had been there, but it was my favorite.
And Nixon had written it.
Usually, it was sung a key lower, in Jonas’s register, but tonight, Nixon played it just as he’d written it—for his voice.
Muses and Melodies (Hush Note Book 3) Page 8
