Page 25 of Christmas Music
My hand slid into the pocket of my jeans and I clutched the lyrics I’d jotted down that would change the song from ‘ours’ to ‘mine.’ I tried very hard to get my brain to move in a straight line so it could give me the answer I was searching for.
Because right now, I had two choices: Keep the song for myself and get that contract, so I could get my career back in line.
Or save the boy I was starting to think I might be in love with.
CHAPTER16
Olivia
Icouldn’t believe I was doing this.
I couldn’tbelieveI was doing this.
Me, the girl who had left home at eighteen to run to the big city and try to score a music contract, and who had done every single thing asked of her ever since then in pursuit of that contract. The girl who had dreamt of this since she was barely big enough to dream, and had fought tooth and nail to secure a place in the industry—only to have it stripped from her by a guy who thought he knew better.
I was about to give up my chances at having another contract all to myself.
And I was going to do it for a guy who didn’t even seem to really like me that much.
I took a deep breath, forced myself to go through all the options in the split second I had, and then took a step out onto the stage, and then another, and then another. I stopped when I was right next to Connor and laid a gentle hand on his arm.
When he turned to me, his eyes were big and full of doubt, like he’d gotten up here and suddenly realized he was only wearing his boxers and his cowboy boots. I gave him my most winning grin and tipped my chin up a bit.
“Sounds like you could use a backup singer. Someone to bring you some confidence.”
He smiled in relief, and it felt like the sun came out. It felt like daisies and sunflowers were suddenly growing around me, my blood running three times warmer than it had been and something very, very strange going on in my chest. He looked so... relieved. So happy to have someone else at his side.
Though the smile was immediately replaced by a frown.
“What are you doing? We’re not allowed to perform together.”
I picked up one of the spare guitars on the stage. “Don’t be stupid, Connor, everyone is allowed to have a backup singer. How else will they know how you’ll do with a band?”
“But I don’t have a song,” he said, enunciating each word like he was speaking to someone who might not understand. “I haven’t been... I mean I didn’t exactly...”
“Don’t be stupid,” I interrupted. “You do have a song. We wrote it that day I came to your ranch. Or have you forgotten already?”
I paused, waiting for him to catch up, and saw the moment he realized what I was talking about. The scowl melted, and was replaced by shock. Surprise. And a gentle, beautiful sort of realization.
“Our song?” he whispered.
I shrugged. “Unless you’ve got something else to play for this fine folks.”
“But—”
I strummed my guitar. Loudly. “Sorry, Connor, but I just can’t hear you. Too much stage noise. Guess you better start playing. Don’t worry, I’ve got the melodies all worked out already.”
That part wasn’t a lie. I had the melodies all worked out. I just hadn’t realized I was doing it for him.
He gave me one last long, lingering stare, and then turned back to the crowd. “Sorry, folks, I was, um...”
“Waiting for his backup,” I said into the microphone in front of me. “Sorry, guys. I was running late. Totally my fault.”
The audience chuckled a bit—most of them knew me, and knew how hard it was for me to get anywhere on time—and then settled in, waiting for the song.
Connor took a deep breath, and then strummed the opening chord. A chill ran through me at the sound, and I grinned. That chord was my favorite, and I thought it might be the best part of the entire song.
Then he started singing.
