Page 21 of The Last Love Song
The kind words of a friend. The kind of thing her mom never said to her kids. Not that she blamed her mom or anything. It was simply one of those mornings. Her emotions bubbled under the surface.
“You see why you are the better mayor than me? You have a knack for knowing when to say the diplomatic thing. Unless…” She set her guitar in the stand beside the vanity. “You’re using that gift for tact to lure me into attending Tiffany McCord’s much-hyped store opening.”
She had planned to attend. The woman had spent many hours volunteering at the rec department last summer while Heather had been out of town. But she would have gladly missed the commitment if she’d been in Charlotte already.
Unfortunately, she still sat right here in town.
Zach chuckled. “Funny thing about that. I happened to be completely sincere on your probability of success in life. But I also can’t face the thought of a McCord event on my own at nine o’clock on a Monday morning.”
“You wouldn’t suggest this if you could see what I look like right now.” She dug in the vanity drawer for cold cream and a cloth, considering his offer. She liked Zach, and talking to him was a welcome distraction from the crushing fear in her chest. She couldn’t play her guitar.
If she didn’t go, she’d end up crying again and she refused to sit around feeling sorry for herself. She’d figure out what to do about her audition later, when she wasn’t an emotional wreck. Later, she’d email her friend Sylvia, the fellow musician and former student from Heartache who’d moved to Nashville a fewmonths ago. But since Sylvia was only available to her online and Zach was here—in person—Heather sure was tempted.
“I already have an extra cup of coffee for you,” he said.
“You can’t make me feel guilty about a one-dollar expenditure.” Gently, she cleaned her face, wincing as she bent a swollen knuckle.
“We’re not talking about gas station coffee. I went to Mack and Nina’s new restaurant, and Nina hooked me up with some kind of latte that smells nutty. She said it’s your favorite.”
“You really didn’t want to go to that event alone, did you? Their restaurant isn’t even open at this hour.” She smiled a little, some of the despair in her chest lightening at the unfamiliar sensation of having a supremely attractive, intelligent man woo her.
Even if it was only because he wanted her to take a job.
“I spotted Nina sweeping up out front and she said she had the espresso machine warmed up anyhow. Did I mention being the mayor has its privileges?”
She had to laugh. That in itself seemed kind of amazing, given the way she’d wanted to smash her guitar before he had called. She definitely needed to get out of the house. Stop brooding for a little while.
“I believe you’ve hit that point a few times.” She pulled clean clothes out of the closet and then climbed down the loft’s narrow stairs. “If I say yes to this painful suggestion of yours, I feel like I should be rewarded with more than a latte.”
“Such as?”
“Well, since you’re kind enough to remember that I don’t have a car today, maybe the Mercedes would be a good loaner since you have a garage full of vehicles.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
“Really?” She slid into a soft, full skirt, which even Erin would approve of. Heather liked it because it was comfortable.Tossing aside her nightgown, she put the phone on speaker so she could wriggle into a bra.
“Of course not.”
“The Porsche then.” She cursed the back closure as her fingers struggled to fasten the hooks. She vowed to buy all new—less complicated—underwear before her hands became any worse.
“I was thinking more along the lines of dinner.”
She stilled, her fingers pulsing with heated pain. Only now, her heart pulsed harder, too. Andnotin a painful way.
“Hello?”
“I’m here.” Why would Zach ask her out after the big fuss she made about leaving town? Although, therehadbeen that electric current between them when he’d touched her. Still, she couldn’t help thinking he was hiding something from her. Angling her into position like the skilled politician he was—even if he didn’t give himself that credit.
“You force me to wonder if the thought of sharing a meal with me is more horrible than a press event with Tiffany McCord.”
“Of course not.” She tugged a short-sleeved sweater over her head. “There are simply more implications with a shared dinner.”
“We can discuss those implications at length, now that I’m in your driveway.”
“Already?” She ducked into the bathroom to brush her teeth. “Give me two minutes.”
She ran her fingers under hot water while she cleaned her teeth, changing hands halfway through. The warmth eased the pain a little. She took some of the anti-inflammatory medicine the doctor in Austin had given her and checked the calendar on her phone.
