Page 8 of The Lyrics of Love

“We forgot, Ainsley. Totally forgot to gas up for you. We’re idiots.”

“I agree,” she said sternly. “Do you know I trusted you so much that I left for my estate sale down in Tillamook without even checking the gauge? I ran out of gas on the way back.”

“Gramps told us,” Grant said. “We’re sorry, Rylie. Really sorry. We got to talking about two-a-days coming up and a few plays we want to run by Coach. To see if he might include them in the gameplan for the home opener.” He shook his head. “We were careless asses.”

“You were,” she agreed. “And don’t let your grandfather hear you using that language.”

George laughed. “Gramps says lots worse when you’re not around, Rylie.” He paused. “We’re sorry. We really are. Are we okay?” He looked at her, doubt in his eyes.

“Come here,” she ordered. “We’ll hug it out.”

Both twins came toward her, taking turns to envelop her in a tight bear hug.

“Better,” she declared. “Time to work, boys. It’s some pretty valuable items I’ve brought back.”

Jerry Ellman appeared, ready to hold the door open for his grandsons. “I’ve already told them where to place everything you bought.”

She had texted Jerry pictures of her purchases before they had been loaded into the trailer, telling him where they would need to be placed on the floor in the store.

Each twin carried a chair past them. When they were out of hearing distance, she asked, “How did you know I ran out of gas? Fred?”

“Who else?” her clerk asked. “He couldn’t wait to call and tell me. I think he wanted my grandsons to get into a little trouble.” Jerry paused. “Fred also said something about a guy who gave you a ride.”

She let the boys pass them again and return with another load of chairs before replying. “Yes, right after it happened, a guy stopped.” Knowing she could trust Jerry, she said, “I recognized him. Nash Edwards.”

Jerry’s jaw dropped. “The Nash Edwards? The Let Your Heart Tell Her You Love Her? That Nash Edwards?” he asked, naming Nash’s breakout song and one of her favorites.

“That’s the one.”

“Hmm. Seems like a nice guy in interviews. Now that I’m retired, I watch all the late-night talk shows. He’s been on them several times. And I never miss the Country Music Awards or the Grammys.”

The boys moved by them again, on their third round of chairs now.

“He’s nice. Been through a divorce. He’ll be staying in the Cove a couple of months, working on new music. I’m going over there tonight to have dinner with him. Tell him a little bit about the area. That kind of thing.”

Jerry’s eyebrows shot up, but he kept silent until George and Grant were back inside the store. “Sounds like a date to me, Rylie.”

“It might be,” she grudgingly admitted. “Or it might just be a new friend I’ve made. Either way, keep this under your hat, would you? Nash is a man who values his privacy. I don’t think there’s any way to keep residents of the Cove from knowing he’s here, but they don’t need to know about it the first day he gets to town.”

“Or the fact that the prettiest single lady in the Cove is seeing him?”

Rylie felt the heat fill her cheeks. “I’ll thank you for the compliment, Jerry. Please supervise the boys with the rest of the unloading. I’ve got some bills to pay and paperwork to look over. I’ll be upstairs in my office.”

“Will do,” he said, fighting to hide his grin and losing that battle.

She entered the rear of the store and went straight to her office. For some reason, she stopped in the restroom and viewed herself in the mirror, wanting to see what she had looked like when she’d met Nash Edwards.

Her sundress, which she would leave on after work, was white with blue and yellow flowers. It helped show off her summer tan and curves. Her dark hair was swept away from her face with a slim headband. Her lipstick was still in place. She lifted her wrist and sniffed it. This morning’s perfume had already faded. She wondered if she had time to close up and swing by her house for a quick touchup of her makeup and a new squirt of perfume and get to Nash’s rental without being late.

“No,” she told herself. She would leave straight from work and not do anything special. Well, maybe brush her teeth and apply a fresh coat of lipstick. After all, she did have her bathroom here. It wouldn’t hurt.

Rylie went to her desk, sitting in the banker’s desk chair, surveying the stacks in front of her. Focusing on work was the best thing to do. If she didn’t, the time between now and six might crawl by.

She was deep into adding a column of numbers when she sensed Ainsley’s presence and looked up. Her cousin carried a white box from her bakery.

“What did you bring?” she asked.

“Four items. I thought a little variety couldn’t hurt.” Ainsley opened the box, and Rylie peered inside. “An éclair, which you’re familiar with. One of your favorites—a canelé.”

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