Page 56 of The Lyrics of Love

“The Victorian one?” he asked as they strolled toward the house.

“Yes, that one. I sold it to a client who frequents my shop. And the pair of Empire chairs, the ones with the ornamental feet?”

“I liked those. They were ones carved like lion’s paws. Totally cool.”

“They went to a random tourist who is in the Cove for two weeks of R&R. He came into Antiques and Mystiques as a lark. Never had looked at antiques before, but he fell in love with them and bought them on the spot.”

Nash unlocked the front door, and they went inside. She slipped off her shoes, ready to give her feet a break after wearing heels all day.

“Eat now or wait half an hour?”

“Wait,” she said.

“Meet me on the porch.”

Rylie returned outside and sat in the porch swing, gently swinging as she waited for Nash to return. When he did, he had a glass of white wine.

Handing it to her, he said, “Just because I’m not drinking at the moment doesn’t mean you can’t relax with one. It’s a pinot grigio. Supposed to be crisp, light, and refreshing.”

He took a seat next to her, slipping his arm around her shoulders. She took a sip of the chilled wine.

“Mmm. Very good choice, Mr. Edwards.”

“Anything for my girl.”

She liked being his girl.

He continued to push off his toes, keeping the swing moving slightly as he recounted to her how his cooking lesson with Carter had gone.

“Tenley filmed the entire thing, making both the soup and the enchiladas,” Nash said.

Then he explained about how they had made a pitch for people to donate to Make-A-Wish America and why it was important to Carter.

“I never knew that about his sister,” Rylie said. “I vaguely remember her. She was so much older than I was, but she always had a smile on her face. Carter says she’s got two kids of her own now.”

“Carter said he hadn’t heard back yet on the pilot he shot for the Food Network.”

“Yes, he’s been disappointed about it. He and Tenley share the same agent, who helped Carter land his cookbook deal.”

“Carter sent our video session to his agent.”

He then detailed the idea of Carter not merely doing a show on his own but teaching someone.

“They could be anybody. Someone famous or not. Just people who are interested in learning how to cook. Carter is an excellent teacher. He’s very easygoing. I don’t think anything would rattle him.”

“I believe it’s his fireman background. How he had to learn to be cool and levelheaded in the face of danger.” Rylie placed her hand on Nash’s thigh. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. I hope that will tip the Food Network into deciding to give Carter his own show. If they do, you’ll be a part of it.”

“Maybe our tape could serve as a pilot,” he mused.

“Speaking of tapes—that’s my turn to segue into something. Well, it’s not actually a tape. But remember Jarrod, the guy I sent you to see for your SUP gear?”

“Yeah, he mentioned something about sending me a tape. Or video. I gave him my e-mail address.” A sheepish look crossed his face. “I’m not that great about checking e-mail. I told you how I’m dyslexic. I still don’t like to read much.”

“Jarrod stopped by Antiques and Mystiques today. He was already nervous about having sent you something and even more worried because he hadn’t heard back from you. I know it was just a couple of days ago, but I promised him I’d talk with you about it. Do you think we could watch it now before we eat?”

“Why not?”

Nash pulled his cell from his pocket pulled up the e-mail. Rylie snuggled a bit closer to him as he hit play. Jarrod Simpson appeared on the screen.

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