by Julie Benson
They started to make their way to the bar, but only went a few feet before someone stopped them to say how much they enjoyed their singing. Another couple of steps and they repeated the process. When the third group of people waylaid them, Jamie turned to Emma and said, “I say head down and we make a run for the bar. Stop for nothing, or we’re going to die of thirst.” He grabbed her hand. “Coming through.” Someone tried to catch his attention. “Sorry. Join us at the bar if you want to talk. The lady’s about to collapse from dehydration.” He kept moving forward until they reached the bar.
“That was subtle, and not the least bit overly dramatic.” Emma shook her head and sank onto an empty bar stool.
“I got the job done, so quit complaining,” Jamie said as he moved behind the bar beside Mick. Once there he plucked a glass off the shelf, filled it with ice and water and placed it in front of Emma. “And now I’m back to bartender.”
“Thanks for filling in, you two.” Mick patted Jamie on the back.
“The credit goes to Emma. She was the one who knew what to do. I followed her lead.”
“You were amazing, Jamie. I haven’t heard anybody sound that good in years,” one of the women seated at the bar said. Jamie wasn’t sure which one, not that he cared. All he noticed was how quiet Emma had become.
“That was because of Emma. Anyone singing with her would sound like a star.” Jamie reached for another glass.
“You two were almost as good as June and Johnny,” the man sitting next to Emma said.
She smiled at him, but her eyes failed to light up as they had earlier. She sat with her back ramrod-straight, her hand clutching her water glass. Something wasn’t right. “That’s very sweet of you to say so, Henry. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“We need to have these two back, boss,” Cathy said after she ordered two beers and a whiskey neat for one of her tables. “I bet we’d pack the place, and I could rake in some heavy-duty tips.”
“Are you trying to tell us something?” Henry teased.
“You’re a good tipper, but let’s face it. People open their wallets wider when they’re all toe-tapping happy from good music.” She patted Emma’s arm. “Hearing you and Jamie sing sure makes my night go faster. Say you two will come back again.”
“Maroon Peak Pass and the shelter keep me pretty busy, but I’ll see what we can do.”
Jamie couldn’t miss the lack of enthusiasm in Emma’s voice. In other words, don’t call us, we’ll call you. Here he thought they’d shared something special onstage, but apparently he was the only one who thought so.
“Have you had any luck finding a fiddle player to replace Molly? I bet that’s weighing on you since the contest at the state fair is coming up quick,” Henry said.
Emma shook her head. “I’ve contacted anyone who might know of someone, and I’ve spent hours searching the internet. It’s downright scary what some people think passes for music.”
“What’s this about a contest?” Jamie asked.
“The state fair is having a competition.” Emma explained how the winner got a private consultation with Phillip Brandise, one of the biggest producers in country music. “If we impress him, we have a good shot at him offering us a recording contract.”
“Will not having a violinist hurt your chances?” Jamie asked as he poured the beers for Cathy.
“Not if I can help it.” He wanted to smile at Emma’s grit, clearly evident in the stubborn tilt of her chin and the determination in her voice. The woman might bend, but she wouldn’t break.
“Maybe you don’t have to go without one. How about Jamie?” Henry nodded in his direction. “You play the fiddle, don’t you?”
“Since I was eight. I was one of those geeky kids who spent the afternoon inside practicing the violin.”
“You should get Jamie to take Molly’s place.” Henry took a long draw on his beer and leaned back in his seat, obviously pleased with himself. “Then you two could sing together all the time.”
He mulled the idea over. Being onstage with Emma had been the most fun he’d had in a long time. He could help her out while getting the challenge of learning something new. Granted, learning country music wouldn’t be a huge one—how hard could it be for someone who’d been classically trained?—but it would be something different, and that’s what he needed right now. He’d fill up some of his empty time and get the added bonus of exercising and strengthening his hand. As far as he could see it was a win all around.
“You could at least help out until Emma finds someone.” Henry turned to Emma, a big uneven smile on his face. “Isn’t that a great idea?”
Jamie glanced at her, about to say they should give Henry’s idea a try, but the words stuck in his throat. She’d pressed her lips together so hard they were a thin white line. She clutched her water glass so tight the tendons in her hand stood out.
“It’s something to consider, but I’ll have to think about it since Jamie doesn’t have any experience—”
“I’ve got a degree from Juilliard and played with the New York Philharmonic.” His words came out harsher than he intended. Her comment shouldn’t have nicked his pride, but it had. “I’d call that experience.”
“If you’d let me finish, what I was going to say was you don’t have any experience playing with a country band.”
She really thought what she’d added would make the insult sting less? “I think I can handle it.”
“Just because you possess the skills to play the notes doesn’t mean you can make music. Everyone thinks country music is easy to play, but it’s not. It’s filled with heart. It’s storytelling set to music. That’s what makes it special. If someone doesn’t feel the connection, it doesn’t work. What you create is just noise.”
Wood creaked as people shifted awkwardly on the bar stools.
“I happen to like country music. It has an honesty that resonates with people. Me included.”
“Again, that doesn’t mean you can play it on a professional level. The business is very competitive.”
He shrugged, but all he could think about was grabbing her and kissing her long and hard until neither one of them had the energy to carry on this conversation. “Good luck at the state fair.”
“Okay, you two,” Mick said as he rushed over from the far side of the bar. “I think it’s time to change the subject. Jamie, let’s get everyone here at the bar another round on me.”
Cheers and whoops circled around the bar. The only one besides him who didn’t seem happy was Emma as she stalked away to rejoin her friends.
* * *
SUNDAY AFTERNOON EMMA sank onto her couch in her living room, a cup of herbal tea beside her as she tried to focus on the sheet music spread out on the coffee table in front of her. Unfortunately all she could think about was how she’d gone off the deep end last night with Jamie.
She’d been so far off her game yesterday she hadn’t even been able to see the stadium. That feeling started when she arrived at Halligan’s for the auditions and found Jamie there, and the day had continued to spiral out of control. She’d been strung pretty tight by the time she’d sung with him, and hadn’t been prepared for her reaction. The excitement, the electricity, the elation. She hadn’t had that kind of chemistry onstage in years. Since Tucker. That left her shaking in her favorite boots.
Follow that with how crazy everyone had gone over their performance and half the town jumping on the she-should-let-Jamie-play-with-her-band bandwagon, and the perfect storm had formed inside her. And boy, had she let loose on Jamie. The poor guy hadn’t deserved that.
As if she didn’t have enough distractions to keep her from getting anything productive done, her cell phone rang. Glancing at the screen revealed Avery’s name.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay. What happened at the bar between you and Jamie? You sc
urried out of there so fast I didn’t get to ask,” Avery said when Emma answered.
“Scurried? I don’t scurry.”
“Stomped? Charged? Either of those work? And don’t avoid the question.”
Emma rubbed the knot in her shoulder, trying to ease the tension there. “I have no idea what happened. I was doing okay.”
Okay? You were having more fun, were more alive and happier than you’ve been in years.
“When Jamie and I were done singing everyone kept saying how great we sounded. Like I sounded lousy before or something. Then Henry Alvarez had the bright idea for Jamie to replace Molly in the band. I said something that Jamie took the wrong way.” But what had she expected him to do? Only someone deaf, dumb and blind would’ve taken a statement that started out with the words you have no experience as anything but an insult. “Then it was like we were both possessed, or we lost all common sense and self-control. I don’t know. It was crazy. All of a sudden he and I were arguing like two children over who got the bigger piece of cake.”
“Having Jamie replace Molly isn’t a bad idea.”
“Don’t start. I can’t take it today. I need the I-support-you-in-whatever-decision-you-make speech.”
“Then you aren’t going to be happy about what’s happening on Facebook this morning. You and Jamie have created quite a stir. Someone posted a video of you two singing.”
No. Everyone in Halligan’s nagging her was one thing, but opening the mess up to the entire free world via the internet? Please, no. Emma booted up her computer and logged on to the social media site. The first thing she noticed was Shay had posted a video of her own performance with Jamie along with a comment about how they had sounded “magical.” Really? “I can’t believe Shay has the nerve to call her caterwauling with Jamie ‘magical.’ The woman is either delusional or tone-deaf. Not that anyone’s called her on that.”
Instead all the comments were from women who went all dreamy over Jamie, his “see into a woman’s soul” eyes, his “make me swoon” voice and his “I want to cuddle up with that” body.
“Forget about Shay’s post. Have you found the one of your performance with Jamie?”
She located the video. Her stomach dropped when she saw how many likes and shares they had. “I can’t believe it. We promoted the heck out of the band’s last video, and this thing’s gotten more plays in one day than we got in a month.”
“If this keeps up you could get some great exposure.”
Emma hit Play. As the video started all the excitement she’d felt with Jamie rushed back. She knew it felt right being onstage with him, but she’d had no idea how the energy crackled between them, elevating their performance and their vocals, infusing their singing with a sizzling sensuality. She’d been wrong. She’d never had this kind of chemistry with anyone.
She read the comments. People compared them to some of country’s great duos. Her mind rebelled at the thought. She refused to tie her career to one person, especially a man. That’s why she’d started Maroon Peak Pass, and why she was the lead singer. Bass players, drummers and fiddle players could be replaced. Not quickly, as she was learning from Molly’s departure. But relying on someone else left her vulnerable, something she refused to do again.
“Promise you won’t bite my head off if I ask you a certain question you’re not going to like me asking, but I have to ask because it’s in the shelter’s best interest.”
“Avery, it’s Sunday afternoon, and my brain’s in weekend mode. I have no idea what you just said.”
“Don’t get mad, but I think we should ask Jamie to sing at the shelter fund-raiser.”
“Why would I get upset about that? From the interest he’s generated online, I think that’s a great idea. He could draw more people to the event.” Young, single, man-hungry women, but, hey, their money bought dog food and cat litter as well as anyone else’s.
“The thing is, he needs a band to play for him. I was thinking he could sing with Maroon Peak Pass.”
Chapter Six
“Just think about it for a minute before you say no,” Avery said.
“I don’t need to. You want him to sing. That’s fine with me, but have him do karaoke again.”
“While everyone enjoyed Jamie’s singing, they loved you two singing together more. Remember the first time Reed and I danced at Halligan’s? You told me things were so hot between us you almost ran for a fire extinguisher.”
Emma didn’t like where the conversation was headed. “Uh-huh.”
“I thought the same thing when you and Jamie were onstage.”
“That was before our disagreement. I think what we said to each other effectively killed any attraction.” Liar. At least it hadn’t dampened her fascination. “Avery, it was awful. It’s not like me to be that thoughtless and hurt someone.”
And she had. She’d seen the shock wash over Jamie’s features after her “no experience” comment. Then, as she’d continued to lob grenades in his direction, the expression on his face had let her know she’d hit her target. “I wish I could take it all back. We just seemed to push each other’s hot buttons.”
“That’s because there’s major sparks between you two.”
That’s what she was afraid of. She’d always had trouble separating the chemistry she felt with a man onstage from real life. She couldn’t afford to make another mistake, not after she’d finally gotten her feet under her and her career back on track.
“You said something else to me that night that fits here.”
“I have the funny feeling you’re going to throw something I said back in my face.”
“You’ve got that right.”
“Your situation with Reed was different. He was an old boyfriend. One you never got over.”
“That may be, but I’m going to tell you what you said to me anyway because somewhere along the line you forgot about having a life.”
“You’re right. After Mom died I should’ve packed up my Camry and headed back to Nashville.” At first she’d been too drained to start over, knowing she’d have to find a new day job, an apartment and, toughest of all, a new band. Instead she’d insisted the smart plan was to take time to grieve and regroup. The next thing she knew another year had gone by. “I may not have the life I envisioned, but I have a life.”
“That sounds familiar,” Avery said. “Should I tell you what you said to me?”
You forgot about having a love life.
She hated when her words came back to bite her on the ass, and these left teeth marks.
While what Avery said about her love life was true, Emma had consciously made the choice. Women couldn’t have it all. That was just a bill of goods the media and big business sold them to keep females from grumbling too much.
For women who wanted to be movers and shakers at the top of their profession, something had to give. Either work or family had to come first. That is, if a woman was lucky enough to find a man who could handle her success, and there weren’t many of those around. If she wanted a guy who’d be faithful and didn’t have horns and a tail, she narrowed the field even further. But say she won the lottery and found such a man. If she wanted to compete with the big boys in her field, her home life would have to take a backseat. That eventually caused problems. A man might understand for a while, but eventually he’d complain, forcing her to choose between him and her career.
“We’ve known each other most of our lives, and I’ve seen you change over the past few years,” Avery continued, her voice hesitant but devoid of judgment. “You’ve shut yourself off from everyone.”
“That’s not true. I have some close friends. One of whom doesn’t know what she’s talking about right now.”
“It’s not just with friends.”
“I don’t need a man in my life. I’ve got enough problems.”
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“You don’t let anyone get close to you anymore. I didn’t realize it until I saw you onstage at Halligan’s, but you’ve shut down so much emotionally it’s changing your music. When you were singing with Jamie, you let your guard down. You were real. I think that’s what made that night so special for everyone watching you two.”
Emma’s hand tightened around her phone. Avery’s words rippled through her like a virus, invading and pervasive, altering everything they touched. Had she changed that much since she’d come back from Nashville this time?
Since returning she hadn’t connected with many of her old friends. She hadn’t wanted to. In the past she and her bandmates had become friends, but not this time. She rarely socialized, except when Avery cajoled her into going out as only a best friend could. She hadn’t gone on a single date, either.
The thought sank in. She hadn’t gone out on a date in over two years? That explained a lot of her current problem with Jamie. No wonder seeing him—a guy who, if anything, was hotter than he’d been at nineteen—and remembering how young and hopeful she’d been with him left her reeling. Then add in her memories of how he kissed better than any man had a right to legally, and no wonder her hormones had come out of hibernation.
Avery’s words continued to hammer at Emma, breaking through to the truth. She’d been so weary, so beat down from her mother’s illness and death, Clint’s rejection and having to start over careerwise that she’d gone into survival mode emotionally. She’d quit feeling anything.
Until Jamie.
“Fate sometimes brings people into our lives for a reason,” Avery said.
“Don’t give me that philosophical bull. My life doesn’t need changing. It’s fine the way it is.”
You’re protesting too much. Who are you trying so hard to convince?
“Do you think that’s why Jamie pushes your hot buttons so easily? Are you so sure your life doesn’t need shaking up?”
La, la, la. I’m not listening. I won’t. I can’t.
Wasn’t it bad enough that Jamie had invaded her weekend, her Facebook news feed and way too many of her thoughts? Now Avery wanted her to let him into her one haven, Maroon Peak Pass.
