Page 51 of The Last Love Song
Before she hit the first chorus, Charlie Ray’s had gone silent except for her voice and her background music. Patrons set their ribs down. A cook wearing a sweaty T-shirt and apron shoved through a door at the back of the restaurant to see what was going on. A waitress tucked her tray under her arm and leaned a hip into the bar to watch the show. On the little stage, Heather shook, shimmied, but most of all, she sang.
And not until the second chorus did she allow herself to look at Zach.
He straddled the chair backward, arms draped along the back with his chin resting on his forearms. He gave her his full undivided attention when she strutted through the small crowd as far as the microphone cord would allow her. Then, her eyes locked on him, and the performance wasn’t just for fun anymore.
It was all for him.
Every breathy note. Every heartfelt high. She felt it from the bottom of her soul as she reached deep to deliver lyrics about a woman done wrong but ready to move on with a new lover. The moving-on part at least was true. And as she planted one foot on a chair to lean into a gritty hook line before the outro, she knew the part about wanting a lover was about her, too. She wanted Zach.
Tonight.
And she didn’t give a damn about the risks.
Maybe that’s why she lifted her arm and pointed toward him with the song’s ending words. It wasn’t like the rest of her moves—part of the showmanship. That bit was unscripted.Unpracticed. And didn’t feel nearly as smooth as the rest of her delivery. Her voice vibrated with an extended note and her eyes closed as she held it for as long as she could, letting the moment last. Even with her eyes shut, she could feel the connection between them as he stared at her from forty feet away.
When she finally ripped off the note and straightened to stand, the guitars on the karaoke machine strummed through the last notes. But once again, she could hardly hear them from the applause. Every person responded in some way—applauded, whistled, stomped or shouted. The praise humbled and gladdened her. It had been a pure pleasure to entertain the small room with a talent that had been a fortunate gift of her genes and not something for which she could take credit.
Still, it felt nice.
Even if there was only one man’s response she was interested in. And with so many people on their feet, she lost sight of him as Dee Ray swirled more lights around Heather—blue this time.
“Nice job, darlin’,” the woman called to her from behind the table where she operated the sound system. “Although I’d be surprised if we get anyone else to take the stage after that. You’re gonna be a tough act to follow.”
The applause died down, and Heather stepped off the stage to accept a few congratulations. The older couple who’d sung earlier in the evening was the first in line, standing shoulder to shoulder as if they moved as one.
“That was beautiful, honey,” the woman told her. She wore a plaid Western shirt with silver snaps in contrasting colors to her husband’s. Silver pins from a square-dancing association flashed on their collars.
“You must be one of those Nashville acts polishing the moves before you take to the road,” the gray-haired gentleman inserted, his bolo tie slightly askew as he put an arm around his wife. “I sure hope we hear more from you, Heather.” He winked.
“Me, too.” She shook both their hands. “Thank you so much.”
After a few more kind words from some of the patrons—including Charlie Ray’s insistence that dinner was on him anytime she wanted to come to karaoke night—Heather finally saw Zach standing in front of her.
“No wonder they think you’re a Nashville singer.” He shook his head slowly. Disbelieving. “That was…” He shrugged “The wordfantasticdoesn’t do it justice, but I can’t think up anything else that would sum up your performance.”
“You liked it.” She smiled like a girl in a toothpaste ad. Her grin that wouldn’t stop.
“My God, Heather. Your voice.”
“Are we set with dinner?” she asked, peering toward their table.
“The waitress refused to let me pay for dinner, but I did leave a fat tip.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here.” She grabbed his hand, pulling her sweater off the table.
“Are you sure? There’s still some food left. I don’t want to rush you out the door.”
“No.” She hooked her arm through his, the adrenaline still singing in her veins. “Remember we talked about a private performance?”
She felt the change in him. An alert tension in every muscle.
“Yes, ma’am. I do.” He lowered his voice and picked up his pace as they headed for the exit.
She smiled. “I think I’m ready to deliver.”
He could besitting beside country music’s next superstar.
Zach weighed the idea as they sped back into Heartache that night, the top down on the convertible despite the chill in the air. He hadn’t understood the level of Heather’s talent until tonight. Until he’d seen her take command of the backwoods restaurant with her jaw-dropping voice and natural stage presence. He would have never guessed the local music teacher who volunteered for the rec department hid so much talent.
