Page 18 of The Lyrics of Love

“That’s the beauty of it. You can create an entire era within your house if that’s what you like. I’m helping a client from Southern California refurbish an Art Deco house, which was designed by Wallace Neff and built in 1930. She is decorating the entire place in Art Deco, which was at its height of popularity during that time. But I think a mix of styles in a house is fun. Your house should reflect your taste and the pieces you enjoy. I’m the same way about dishware. I mix and match my plates and bowls. Colors that go together. All kinds of patterns.”

“I’d like to see your place, Rylie. I know would be a true reflection of you.” He hesitated. “I know when you left last night, it was on a sour note. I would like another chance to get to know you. What do you say?”

Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I don’t think that’s wise, Nash.”

CHAPTER 7

Rylie turned away, blinking rapidly, trying to make her sudden tears dissolve. She refused to cry over Nash Edwards.

Much less be caught crying over him by him.

She strode toward the front of the store, hoping he would follow so she could shoo him out the door. She reached it and turned, smiling brightly.

“I hope you weren’t too bored by the history and furniture lesson. Thanks for stopping by.”

He moved toward her with a catlike grace. His jeans were faded and molded to his legs and ass. His long-sleeved, moss-green Henley brought out the green in his hazel eyes. His hair, while much shorter than yesterday, looked as if he’d just tumbled out of bed. Without the beard, she could better see the cut of his sharp cheekbones.

The man was a walking advertisement for sex.

Rylie dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. She wouldn’t—no, couldn’t—succumb to the country singer’s charms.

“Why?” he asked, stepping so close to her that she could feel his body heat. Smell the tang of his cologne.

“Why what?” she asked, irritated that he had showed up at Antiques and Mystiques. Angry that he affected her when he shouldn’t. Frustrated that he wasn’t picking up on her cues and making a gracious exit.

“Why isn’t it a good idea to spend some time together?”

Exasperation filled her. “We’re too different,” she said stubbornly, not bothering to add any details to her statement.

“I think we’re more alike than you might think. That we have more in common with one another.”

She crossed her arms protectively in front of her. “I’ve never been the kind of woman who needed a man in her life every minute of the day. I’m independent as hell and terribly opinionated. At the same time, I told you I’ve reached an age where I do want to find someone to share my life with.” She glared at him. “I’m not looking for a one-night fling. Or an affair of a few weeks. I don’t want to waste my time with a man who wants that. You made it crystal clear you have no intentions of marrying again. That you don’t trust women.”

Rylie reached for the door handle and opened it. “I’m physically showing you the door, Nash. You’re a good-looking man. You won’t have any trouble finding someone—or several someones—to hook up with during your time in the Cove. But I’m not interested in a short-term relationship. Actually, I would never be interested in any relationship with you. You’re gone all the time on tour. You keep weird hours. I’ve never been the jealous kind, but if you were my man and I saw women coming on to you all the time, it would either make me crazy or drive me to drink.”

She gazed at him steadily. “We would never work together on any level, Nash. Short or long-term. Once again, I appreciate you being so kind and coming to my aid yesterday when I ran out of gas. You went above and beyond what a stranger would have done. But I’m not interested in pursuing you. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you. I will be polite if I run into you in public. And now I’m wishing you the best.” She paused. “Goodbye, Nash,” she said firmly.

He moved a few steps toward the door and then suddenly stopped. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb tenderly stroking it. He leaned in for a soft, brief kiss.

“If you change your mind, Rylie, you know where I live.”

Nash sauntered through the door without a backward glance. Just his air of nonchalance rubbed her the wrong way. She closed the door behind him, bristling. Then she took a few deep breaths. She would not get upset. Or at least not show she was upset. She knew Jerry conspired to push them together. There had been no inventory for him to catalogue, and they had already texted the twins regarding deliveries.

Rylie headed across the store and went into the back. Jerry was on his phone playing solitaire.

“You can come out now, Mr. Matchmaker.”

“Did it work? Are you seeing him again?”

“I am not,” she said emphatically. “We are too different. We don’t want the same things in life. I am pouring my heart and soul into this store and community. I’m hoping to find someone with the same values and make a good marriage and raise our kids in the Cove. Nash Edwards is in it for himself. All he wants is a good time, and he’ll move on. He flat out said he was never going to get married again. If I had an inkling of interest in him before, I most certainly do not now.”

Jerry eyed her with interest. “All you had to say was no, Rylie. With that lengthy an explanation, you’re protesting too much. I think you intrigued by him. He’s a decent-looking fellow. Seemed nice, too.”

“I don’t care about his looks. Besides, he’ll only be in the Cove a short time. Let him see whomever he wants. I’m going to date anyone but him.”

“You getting on Tinder?” he asked.

“How do you know about Tinder?” she demanded.

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