Page 58 of The Lyrics of Love

“What’s on your agenda this morning?” he asked her.

“I’m going to surf with Kyle and Ken. Then I’ll go home and eat, shower, and find the perfect outfit to wear to meet Pops and your team. I want to make a good impression on them.”

He had gone out a few times to watch Rylie surf and SUP in the Pacific. He was astounded by her natural athleticism and grace on the water.

“What are you doing this morning?” she countered.

“I’m meeting the guys to run, as usual. I need to go dress now so I won’t be late.” He kissed her. “I’ll pick you up no later than eight. I’m glad Antiques and Mystiques is closed today so you can come with me to the studio.”

Rylie left and Nash went to get ready, driving to the town square for his daily run with his friends. He had never been a runner before, hating it from his elementary PE classes. He had met a few times with Gage, however, and his new friend taught him about the joys to be found in running. How to find his rhythm and manage his breathing. Things no one had ever taught him before. He could now run with purpose and find happiness in the run itself. Gage had completed his class on yoga SUP-ing, and he was going to take Nash and Rylie out this weekend to put them through their paces and see how he was as an instructor of a sport he had just learned. Though Gage was new to yoga on a paddleboard, he had told Nash he had practiced yoga ever since his Navy SEAL days. Gage encouraged Nash to pick up yoga and recommend a few apps to download.

Nash had done the poses on his own as he was first learning about them, and found how stress melted from him when he practiced them and how exhilarating he felt after a session. Eventually, Rylie had joined in sometimes, also finding joy in doing yoga. They looked forward to what Gage would teach them on the water.

Nash got out of his truck and saw Jackson already there, stretching. He joined Jackson, and they chatted amiably as they stretched. Carter arrived next and also joined in, telling them that Gage had a new client and wouldn’t be joining them today. Dylan only did so upon occasion because he and Willow ran most mornings together.

The three men set out at an easy pace, increasing it at the five and ten-minute marks, running steadily for a half-hour before cutting it back to a jog where they could talk.

Carter said, “Elmo has arranged a conference call this morning with the Food Network. Tenley and I are hoping to hear good news. If we do, you’ll be a large part of that, Nash.”

The video the two men had done together cooking soup and enchiladas had gone viral. It trended on Twitter for two solid weeks. It had been mentioned by late night talk show hosts, and Carter had been approached, through Elmo, to guest on a couple of the morning network shows. He and his agent, along with Tenley, were deciding which offers to consider. Elmo also was trying to work out something for when they were in New York the week before Thanksgiving, both of them promoting their separate books.

Tenley had asked Nash if he might want to read the first book in her upcoming fantasy trilogy. She had allowed their entire circle to do so and had told him she would provide an ARC—Advanced Reader Copy—for him if he wanted to.

Knowing Tenley better now, Nash had admitted to her that he was dyslexic and had a difficult time reading.

“Have you ever tried audiobooks?” she asked. “You could listen to some while you work out. Elmo has already worked out an audio deal for me, which I’m really excited about. I listened to over twenty narrators before making my choice.”

“I think I’ll wait for the audiobook, if you don’t mind,” he told her.

They arrived back on the square and said their goodbyes. Nash and Carter headed for the vehicles, while Jackson would walk the few blocks to his and Ainsley’s home. By now, Nash had been to all of the houses in his new circle of friends, feeling comfortable at each. He was ready to put down roots in the Cove. While he would keep his Nashville farm, he saw his life unfolding here.

With Rylie.

He drove home and made a cup of coffee while gobbling down a bowl of cereal, taking the coffee with him to the bathroom while he showered and shaved. He was looking forward to seeing Pops again and especially introducing his grandfather to Rylie. They had begun FaceTiming daily with one another, and Pops knew how strongly Nash felt about Rylie.

Neither of them had used the L-word, however. It was as if they both believed if they voiced their feelings, those feelings might dissipate.

But the day was coming when he would tell Rylie exactly how he felt about her.

He texted her to let her know he was on his way, and by the time he got there, she was waiting at the curb for him.

She climbed into the truck and buckled her seatbelt, and Nash leaned in for a lingering kiss.

As they drove to Portland, Rylie checked on Pop’s flight, seeing he would land about ten after nine. His bandmates, Dart and Wills, had flown in yesterday, along with his attorney and manager, and they were scheduled to meet at the recording studio. Billy would drive from Salty Point to rendezvous with them.

Nash had sent videos of him singing every song he had written alone to all of the men, along with the ones he had composed with Jarrod. The band would play with the arrangements once they got into the studio and then rehearse before recording them. It had surprised him just how many recording studios were available in Portland. His idea of building one on property he bought in or around the Cove was still something he was considering, but if he didn’t have enough room for his own studio, several choices were an hour away in Portland.

They parked and went into the terminal where Pops had just landed. He had sent Nash a text the moment the plane touched down, and it was another fifteen minutes before he came through the doors. Nash thought Pops had a little more gray in his hair than he had the last time he’d seen him, but other than that, Pops looked terrific.

He led Rylie over to his grandfather and released her hand to give the old man a bear hug. They clapped one another on the back and separated. Nash indicated Rylie.

“This is Rylie Robinson, Pops.”

His grandfather gave Rylie a huge smile and enveloped her in his arms. “Thank you for what you’ve done for my grandson,” he told her, kissing her cheek.

Tears glistened in his eyes, along with Rylie’s, and she said, “Nash has also done so much for me, Mr. Edwards.”

“None of that nonsense, young lady. Call me Pops. Just about everyone in Nash’s world does. The exception is that fancy lawyer of his. He still calls me Mr. Edwards, and every time he does so, I look around for my own father, God rest his soul.”

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