Page 43 of The Lyrics of Love

“He still has a place in Salty Point,” Nash confirmed. “Actually, it’s one he inherited from his parents. They both passed away a few years ago. He likes coming back to the Oregon coast when we’re not recording or touring. He’s the one who told me this might be a place for me to make a fresh start.”

Nash paused, deciding to be open with everyone. “I married a woman a little too fast. Should’ve seen where our relationship was going and given it some time. We divorced and I went into a downward spiral. Billy suggested I come to the area for some quiet time. Give myself time to breathe. Time to write. He’s the one who rented the cottage I’m living in. It’s just down the road from here.”

“Oh, the McCarry cottage,” Dylan said. “Wow, you are right between Boo’s house and here.”

“Boo?” he asked, not having heard the name before.

“Boo Martin was our grandmother,” Willow said. “Mine and Jackson’s. She was a well-known sculptor, at least in the art world. I work in her studio nowadays. And remember, you’re welcome to watch me paint anytime. Just give me a buzz.”

“I’ll do it. As an artist, I like to see how others work. What their process is.”

“How do you write a song?” Ainsley asked.

“How do you design a cake?” he countered. “Do you sometimes see it full-blown? Or do you start icing it and bits and pieces come to you?”

“Both,” Ainsley told him.

“Music is the same with me. Sometimes, I hear a melody in my head. Or I start humming one in the shower. Other times, the words come first. I’ve awakened from a vivid dream where I’ve played an entire song in my head and scrambled out of bed, trying to get it down before the memories fade. It happens all kinds of ways. I’ve met a person before and been influenced to write about him or her.”

Nash paused. “Like with Rylie. That song I played the other night. It was about the mistake I’d made with her.” He reached for her hand. “Fortunately, she gave me another chance.” He grinned. “That led to the second song I’ve written while in the Cove.”

“It did?” she asked.

“If I had my guitar here, I’d play it for you,” he said.

Gazing at him steadily, she said, “I’d like to hear it once we leave here tonight.”

The others in the room seemed to fade away as they looked at one another.

Then Gage cleared his throat. “I could use another cheesecake bar, Ainsley. That ganache was the bomb.”

They played a group version of Password after that, with one person giving the clues and an entire team trying to guess the answer. The women crushed the men. Then as the clock struck nine, everyone started coming to their feet, putting up game board pieces, collecting plates, and carrying dirty dishes to the kitchen.

Dylan said, “This group hits the sack early. Willow and I are runners. Gage’s busiest time is the weekend, especially early Saturday mornings. Rylie’s always on the water. That’s why we eat an early dinner, so we can play a few games, and then our little party breaks up early.”

“It’s really different from my life on the road,” Nash admitted. “But I like it. I’ve begun keeping regular hours since I arrived this week. I’m getting a lot done.”

“Two songs in a week sounds good to me,” Dylan said.

“And a few more knocking around in my head.”

He carried his plate and silverware into the kitchen, where Carter stopped him.

“If you’re serious about filming with me, could you do it tomorrow afternoon? Around two?”

He smiled. “That would be terrific.”

“Anything special you want to make?” Carter asked.

“How about enchiladas? I grew up on Tex-Mex.”

Carter grinned. “That would be fun. Any particular kind?”

“I like them all. I’ll leave it up to you.” He paused. “I do hope we can eat and reap the benefits of cooking.”

“Of course.” Carter glanced over to where Rylie and Tenley were talking. “Bring Rylie if you’d like.”

“Oh, I would like that,” Nash said. “The more time I can spend around her, the better.”

---