Sweet Seduction Serenade (24 page)

"Um, I mean, I'm looking after my father while he battles cancer and it may take a while before... well, you know. That's if we can find him again, because my Aunt has kidnapped him in an effort to scare me off and lay claim to his estate. Which isn't much, he's a pensioner and only got a small amount of money put aside. But that doesn't concern my Aunt, she's determined to get her hands on it, even if my father has written his will out to my brother, who is behind bars at Mt Eden Prison. My Aunty Jessie doesn't care, she and her dumbass sons think they can browbeat my Dad into changing it in favour of them. And in the process scare me off back to Tennessee. Clearly they've forgotten just how much of their crap I've had to live with growing up, this is nothing new and doesn't faze me in the slightest. I'm not going anywhere."

I stopped, made a little choking sound and then looked toward Gen for help.

"Well, look at that," Gen drawled. "It's catching. I never knew I was contagious."

Dominic started laughing, not that cough sound he made earlier either, a genuine double over and clutch your stomach laugh. Nick and Katie soon joined him, both of them shaking with laughter and in the case of Katie, having to dash away tears. I wasn't quite sure if
I
should laugh or cry. What a disaster. This couldn't have gone worse if I had tried.

"Well, in that case," Mrs Anscombe said, with that beautific smile on her face breaking into the increasingly louder and louder guffaws, "you've got time to sing us a song then." And she promptly clapped her hands together delightedly as though it was Christmas and walked out of the room towards, what I guessed was, the lounge.

Mr Anscombe offered me an amused smile and a wink and followed his wife, then the rest of the laugh-a-minute crowd traipsed after them. Until finally it was just Nick and me left in the kitchen. I was still holding my coffee cup, staring at the ground but not frowning. No, I was stunned. Shocked. Mortified even.

"What the darn hell was that?" I squeaked at Nick, who was still shaking with mirth.

He turned me toward him and wrapped his arms around my shoulder.

"
That
," he said with emphasis, " was you Tennessee-ing my folks with Country style." He shook his head and offered up another laugh to punctuate that statement. "Welcome to the family, angel. There's no escaping now. None of them will let you go, never mind me. You're trapped, cowgirl."

He leaned forward and laid an almost chaste kiss against my lips. "Totally fucking trapped."

"But..." I managed to get out, before Nick grabbed his own mug and herded me towards the lounge after his family. "How...?" I asked, still struggling for words.

"You're adorable, angel," Nick said softly in my ear, his arms still wrapped around my waist, his face resting against my cheek as he propelled me forward. "Is it any wonder you've won them over so easily?"

"I haven't won anyone over," I argued, because who would be won over by a blathering cowgirl?

"Oh, you've won them over, all right," Gen muttered - again sniggering - to the side of the doorway we'd just come through.

Dominic was just taking a seat in an armchair at her side and about to haul her into his lap, I was thinking. Katie was in a matching armchair across the way and Mr and Mrs Anscombe were taking seats on the large sofa that dominated the room. It was a nice room, comfortable and welcoming. I would have liked to have taken more time to look at Nick's choice of décor and decoration, but my audience was waiting and seemed eager to hear a song or two. How do I get myself into these situations?

Nick led me to a large square foot stool, which was high enough to sit on, just right for me to swing a guitar over my knee. He deposited me on the seat, with a curt, "Sit!" command, as though I was some sort of pet dog, and then walked back towards the kitchen. I watched him go with a furrowed brow, then thinking it wouldn't look good to let his family see my anger, turned my frown towards the ground. That's why I didn't see Nick return with the Breedlove in his hands until he held it out beneath my nose.

Oh, okey dokey then.

He retrieved his cup of coffee off a side table and went to stand across the far side of the room, legs crossed at the ankles, shoulder resting against the wall. The picture of casual ease. I held the Breedlove on my knee, but hadn't placed the strap over my shoulder or started tweaking the pegheads - my normal pre-singing routine - just kind of sat there stunned. This was all a little unusual to say the least.

Plus I was hungry. That coffee hadn't hit the spot at all, if anything it was festering in the bottom of my belly and I desperately needed something solid to stop it bubbling back up and out.

"You said you'd sing, angel," Nick pointed out. "Changed your mind?" He seemed inordinately amused. I flashed him my sweetest Tennessee smile.

"Of course not, I'm just hungry, sugar." That received an arched eyebrow. I might have been laying on the Tennessee a little thick in my effort not to glare at him.

"Oh, I'll cook us some pancakes afterwards," Mrs Anscombe declared with much enthusiasm. It seemed she lived to feed her grown children. I kind of liked that.

"I like pancakes," I said quietly, lifting the guitar strap over my shoulder and settling the Breedlove into place. I didn't see everyone's immediate reaction to my words, but when I lifted my head again, after playing with the pegheads, everyone was beaming those smiles at me as though I was the best thing since sliced bread.
And
they hadn't even heard me sing this morning yet.

Right. Okey dokey.

"So, any requests?" I asked, thinking it best to get the ball rolling.

"
Thunder Rolls,
" Gen said immediately, making me smile. She had a thing for that song.

"How about one you've written, angel," Nick suggested softly from his corner of the room.

"Oh, yes, darling," Katie added. "I'd love to hear your original work."

So, that's how I came to play about six of my personal favourites from those I'd written over the past eight years. Each song an individual showcase of my life to date. Some of my earlier work centred around not fitting in, always feeling like I didn't belong. Then as time passed it became more of a honky-tonk tune, what with all the places I played at earning my name and reputation around Nashville. Not to mention the mischief I constantly got up to. I was very much a cowgirl-in-the-rodeo-ring those first few years. Towards the end, they became more settled, a little bitter-sweet. Because although I'd found a niche for myself in Nashville, there was always something missing, some part of me - and it was fairly obvious I was sure to everyone here that that missing part was connected to my heart - that I had left behind. The last song I sang was a poignant heartbreaking tune and it wasn't until I was halfway through that I thought I really should have stopped three songs ago, because this one was written about New Zealand, and I think it said a little too much about me. At the time I'd written it, I told myself it was because I missed the people, the environment and atmosphere, and that I even missed my family - although that's a fair stretch to imagine - but I'd obviously missed a
something
- or someone. And when I wrote that song I hadn't realised it.

Eight years I'd been gone. The first four I thought of Nick constantly. His face the one I saw in my dreams. His arms I pretended were wrapped around me when in another man's embrace. The last four, I'd managed to curtail that lovesick and pathetic behaviour. But it wasn't until I sang that song in Nick Anscombe's lounge, in Auckland, New Zealand, in front of his entire family, that I realised I hadn't stopped thinking of him at all. He'd just shifted to my subconscious, letting me believe I'd moved on when in fact I never had.

I finished the song feeling stunned and quite fragile. Waking up to a truth such as that can have a significant effect on you. I felt a little lost and a whole lot nervous, that the Anscombe's had seen through the words directly into my heart. Silence met the end of the song, which only increased the belief that they'd seen
me
and I suddenly had the urge to run. To pack my bags and leave the problem, that is my
feelings
for a man I spent one night with eight years ago behind me. To forget it, or at least try to, and to just give in to Aunty Jessie, let her care for Dad, forgo any relationship that I may have with him at the end, to protect my heart.

Because I'd bared my soul to these people, most of whom were strangers, and I felt naked and raw and quite sure that there was no way Nick could feel the same way. Who would? I was a romantic fool, and I'd just bled my heart out through a song. Country music always tells a story and when you sing it, you have to believe it to make the magic work. But I'd never felt so connected to a song as I had that last one,
right then
. Never felt so visible through the words spilling from my lips.

My head stayed down, I'm sure I was frowning, I don't really know, because my heart was beating a drum roll in my chest and my only thought was to hide or escape.

"That was simply stunning," Mrs Anscombe said, a little awe lacing her quiet words.

"Beautiful," Katie added. I still didn't look up. Maybe if I'd acted normally, as though it was just a song and nothing else - like it had always been in the past for me - they wouldn't have kept talking. They would have moved on and left the stories I'd sung about alone. But my behaviour clearly encouraged their continued interest.

I only had myself to blame.

"What made you write that last one?" Mrs Anscombe asked softly.

"It's just a song," I whispered, head still tipped down.

"I felt like I was living it with you," she continued, saying the words every singer wants to hear, but in that instant I dreaded.

"Eva's very talented," Gen offered. I think in her own way trying to deflect everyone's desire to dissect my words.

"Poignant," Katie said, hitting the nail right on the head.

"I've never heard a song sung like that before," Mrs Anscombe added and I wished I was somewhere else. Even facing off against Levi right now would have been preferable.

"Obviously there is someone in your past who meant a very great deal to you," Mrs Anscombe surmised and without pausing she went on. "You sweet girl, you've lost a piece of your heart."

Oh, if only the ground had opened up and swallowed me. If only I'd worn my cowgirl hat to hide behind. If only I had sung
Thunder Rolls
or one of Garth's other beautiful and equally moving, but nowhere near as soul baring as mine, songs. If only.

I felt a little sick to the stomach. I really think I was struggling to hold that coffee down, because before I knew it I muttered a barely audible, "Excuse me," and ran from the room, Breedlove still clutched to my chest holding my mortification inside.

"Mama!" Katie chastised behind me. "Did you have to say that?"

"Oh dear," I heard Mrs Anscombe murmur behind me, as someone's cellphone rang incongruously in the room and I simply kept running blindly down the hallway, unsure where I was going, but just following my feet as they led me to the only other room I knew. Nick's bedroom. Which was a mistake.

I was panting for breath, panicked and definitely going to expel my coffee, so I pulled the guitar over my head and tossed it unceremoniously on the bed and then barricaded myself in the bathroom. Staring at that bed, where Nick and I had re-visited our one night so long ago, would only make me cry. And cowgirls don't darn well cry.

But they can make themselves sick it seems, because the coffee came back up. Thankfully I made it to the toilet bowl, making my stomach feel a little better - but not by much.

Darn it all to hell, what an utter clusterfuck.

I expected there to be a knock on the door. I knew Nick would follow me. Offer a smug smile maybe, clearly reading how darn in love with him I was after only one night eight years ago. Or maybe he'd just try to soothe me, be understanding in an indirect way. Pretend it didn't happen, but act like a gentleman and try to calm me down. Either was not acceptable to me. Both would have the same effect. I'd know he knew. And there was nowhere in this bathroom for me to hide.

I may not have wanted either of those outcomes, but in actuality I expected them. What I did not expect was no Nick. He didn't follow me and neither did anyone else. For ten whole minutes. That's a long time to digest the past half hour and what an utter tool I'd been. I played it over and over in my head meticulously, not missing a moment of embarrassment or mortification out. The more I thought about it, the more panicked and emotional I became.

I needed Cary - even Garth Brooks wouldn’t reach me right now - I needed my best friend.

But I didn't have my cellphone on me and I wasn't leaving that bathroom ever again. So I curled up on the floor, near the toilet in case my stomach decided there was something else in there it didn't much like and numbly stared at the tiles around the bath.

It was Gen who came for me. Somehow unlocking the door to the bathroom - which was alarming in a distant kind of way - and ducking inside. She shut it quietly behind her and knelt down on the floor at my side. Her hand came out and brushed some of my hair off my face in a caring manner, then rested comfortably on my shoulder. We sat like that for a few more minutes, neither of us saying a word, and then finally Gen began talking.