Page 31 of The Lyrics of Love

Looking at Nash, Willow said, “Fellow artists need to stick together.”

He grinned. “Oh, I am so buying one of your paintings. But for now, I need to sing a little bit. Let me have my guitar, sweetheart.”

Rylie handed it over, and Nash slipped the strap over his head. “You two stay up here. I think it will be a little safer for you. The crowd has grown pretty large.”

Nash turned and went to the microphone, tapping to test it. Those gathered began whistling and clapping.

“I’m only here to do a few songs tonight because of two things. One, I’ve had a warm welcome from the people living in the Cove, and I would like to give back to them. The second reason is because I promised the diners at Sid’s if they left my lady and me alone to enjoy our dinner, I would sing them a couple of songs. A shoutout to Joe at the Bearded Barrel Brewery for having the sound equipment set up so you could all hear me. Now, let’s do this!” he shouted, revving up the crowd.

Nash launched into Starlight in Texas, a particular favorite of his. In a way, it took him back to the days of playing small places. Sometimes, it was just him and his guitar. As he sang for those gathered, he thought it might be interesting to put out an acoustic CD. One with just him and his guitar. Maybe reinterpreting some of his previous hits, as Taylor Swift had done when she re-recorded Red.

He ended the song to thunderous applause and immediately began playing Let Your Heart Tell Her You Love Her. It was a crowd favorite and his biggest hit and got everyone clapping and dancing as they sang along with him. He knew he had said he would only play a couple of songs, but entertaining was in his blood, and he didn’t want to let these people down. He played another two songs. Two Old Souls was a Grammy winner which he had written for someone else before he began his own solo career. The other was the biggest hit off his last album.

Then he made a quick decision. He glanced over his shoulder at Rylie, who gave him an encouraging smile. Looking back at the crowd, Nash cleared his throat.

“This next song is a new one. I came to the Cove to get some songwriting done. My drummer Billy Brown lives over in Salty Point and told me the Cove would be a place of inspiration—and he was right. This is the first and only song I’ve written in my first twenty-four hours here. I hope you like it and that there’ll be more to come. This is A Mistake I Can’t Take Back.”

Nash captured the crowd from the song’s first few lines and knew they could hear the anguish in his voice and the heartbreak in the lyrics as he sang. He didn’t think he had ever had a quieter audience during a song. He strummed the last chord and for a moment, nothing happened.

Then cheers broke out and wild applause so incredibly loud occurred, almost hurting his ears. He gave the crowd a grin and glanced again at Rylie. She was wiping tears from her cheeks.

Nash turned back to those gathered and said, “I guess you liked that one.”

Laughter rang out through the crowed.

“I hope to write many more songs while I’m here. This will be the last number I do for you, and then I hope you all head over to the brewhouse as a thanks to them for setting up the sound system for me tonight.”

He closed the impromptu concert with Rockin’ Tonight, a fast and fun song that he often used to end his concerts. When he finished playing, he felt sky-high, the roar of the crowd’s approval and their applause spiking his adrenaline.

Dylan Taylor came out of the crowd and bounded up the steps of the gazebo. “No selfies,” he said. “I’ll get the crowd to disburse.”

“Thank you,” Nash said gratefully, waving to the crowd and then joining Rylie and Willow on the bench.

“I want to thank everyone who came out to hear Nash play,” Dylan said. “He only promised us a couple of songs, but he did more than that. Nash was generous with his time, putting on this free concert, and I’d ask for you to go on your way now. Down to the beach for the sunset. Over to the brewhouse or one of the shops still open. Have a good night, folks.”

Nash watched as the crowd began to move away, smiles on their faces and happy chatter among them. Dylan stood protectively at the mouth of the gazebo, making certain no one was coming that way, other than two guys who began dismantling the sound equipment. Nash thanked them again for helping out.

Within minutes, those gathered had melted away. Dylan’s deputies moved toward the gazebo now.

Dylan said, “I know I sent the crowd away, but I promised my staff if they would help out in a pinch, you might take a picture with them.”

He stood, slipping off his guitar strap and placing it to the bench next to him.

“Who’s first?” he asked.

The deputies were efficient, thanks to a woman named Pam Warner, who Dylan said was his dispatcher. She hustled people in and out and then stayed to take a single picture with Nash before telling everyone it was time to leave.

That left him in the gazebo with Rylie, Willow, and Dylan.

“Thank you again for helping make this a safe outing for everyone,” Nash told Dylan.

“Thanks for taking the time to have your picture made with my people,” the sheriff replied. “I guess we’ll see you Friday night for Game Night.” Dylan looked to his wife. “Let’s go home, Bear.”

Willow gave Nash a hard hug, whispering in his ear, “Take care of her.” She pulled away and smiled brightly. “See you at Game Night—where the women will whip your ass.”

Nash burst out laughing. “I think the men might have something to say about that. I can’t promise we’ll win, but we’ll give you a good run at it.”

The Taylors left, and Nash took Rylie’s hand, threading his fingers through hers.

---