Page 3 of The Lyrics of Love

“Interesting.”

Rylie pointed out the gas station up ahead. “Turn in there. You can stay in the car. I’ll get a can from Fred.”

“Okay.”

Nash Edwards was definitely a man of few words.

He pulled into the station, not at the pumps, but next to the building itself. She hopped out and went inside, where Fred thumbed through a copy of Sports Illustrated.

“Hi, Fred. I ran out of gas and need to fill a can. Got one I can borrow?”

“Sure thing, Rylie.”

He removed his feet from where they had been propped on the desk and shuffled from the office into the garage area. She waited where she was, noticing that Nash kept one hand on the steering wheel, his face turned from where she stood.

Fred appeared, gas can in hand, and gave it to her. “Who’d you get a ride with?”

Knowing how Fred was the biggest gossip in the Cove and would immediately send out a dozen texts if he knew Nash Edwards sat in the truck outside, she said, “A guy nice enough to stop and give me one.”

The gas station owner frowned. “You rode with a stranger? That’s not smart, Rylie. Maybe I should run you back to your car.”

“No, I’m good. But thanks anyway,” she said brightly. “I’ll return the can on my way back into town. I’ll need to gas up anyway.”

Hurrying outside, she went to one of the pumps and removed her credit card, inserting it into the pump and then filling the can. She returned to the truck and got in.

“Where’s Shayla Newton located?” Nash asked. “I’d like to head over now and get the key to the property before I drop you at your car. That way I can go straight to the house.”

“Okay.” She gave him directions to Shayla’s and he pulled out of the gas station and back onto the road leading into town.

When they reached the square, she pointed out Antiques and Mystiques. “That’s my place. My pride and joy.”

He slowed as they passed it. “Have to check it out.”

“Does your rental come furnished?”

“That’s what they told me.”

“Turn here,” she said. “Shayla is only a couple of blocks down. Several people in town have offices out of their homes. Gillian Roberts, a CPA. Pete Pulaski, a great contractor.”

Rylie had him turn again and then pointed out Shayla’s building. “She turned the dining room into a place where she meets with customers and then has her home office for her own work.”

Nash pulled the car to the curb and cut the engine. “I’ll be right back.”

She got out as he did. “I think I’m going to walk back to the square and have Jerry give me a ride. I don’t want to inconvenience you any further.” She held out her hand. “Thanks for giving a helping hand to a stranger.”

He took it—and didn’t let go.

Rylie felt a delicious warmth flood her. Their gazes met.

“Why don’t you let me take you back?” he drawled.

“Okay,” she agreed, pulling on her hand. Which he still held.

“Come in with me,” he suggested.

“Do I get my hand back if I say yes?” she teased.

Nash looked down at their joined hands. “For now.”

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