Page 72 of The Lyrics of Love

“Better make it after five,” Nash said. “If we’re purchasing the license Monday morning, I’ll head straight to the studio after that, and Rylie needs to do her dress-shopping.”

“I’m coming with you,” her cousin said. “Just try and stop me. I can let Gus and Sheila handle picking up my weekly supply order.”

Wedding talk finally died and since the pizza was finished, Tenley suggested they leave the newly-engaged lovebirds alone. Hugs and kisses were exchanged, and suddenly the house was quiet, with only the two of them.

Nash helped her load the dishwasher and rinse bottles and cans to be put in the recycle bin. It was just a touch of domesticity, one which Rylie enjoyed thoroughly.

“Care to come sit on the sofa with me?” he asked, arching his brows.

“You sit. I need to get something to show you.”

She went to her bedroom and opened the drawer where she had placed the poem she had composed that afternoon. Her heartbeat quickened as she joined her fiancé on the sofa.

“I told you when we first met that I used to write poetry.” She took a deep breath. “Well, I wrote a poem today. For you.”

Tears misted in his eyes. “I can’t think of a better wedding present.” He leaned in and kissed her softly. “Let’s see it. Do you want to read it to me?”

“I’ll try,” she said. “But I can’t promise I won’t cry.” She lifted the page. “It’s called The Love in Your Eyes.”

Rylie cleared her throat and looked to the page where the words appeared. Already, though, she knew the poem by heart. She closed her eyes and recited it to Nash.

When she finished, she opened her eyes and swallowed hard before looking at him. He had tears running down his cheeks.

“Rylie,” he said hoarsely. “Rylie.”

He pulled her into his lap and held her, his mouth finding hers. They became lost in their kisses, which heated her blood and caused it to sing his name.

Breaking the kiss, he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything lovelier. I told you we should write together, but you brushed that aside. I’m serious now. I think you could definitely become a lyricist. Your poem may have been a gift to me, but my gift to you will be setting your words to the perfect melody.”

He stood, setting her on her feet. “Let’s go back to my place and do it.”

“Now?”

“Now,” he said firmly.

She grabbed the piece of paper so he would have it as a reference. They returned to his rental, and he opened his guitar case, tinkering with chords and humming a melody. She joined in, helping him to shape the direction the music went. And just like that—they had a song.

“Part of me wants to keep this just between us,” he admitted. “But a larger part of me wants to share it with the world. Share my love for you. Your talent. This song celebrates our love.” He paused. “Would you mind if we recorded it this coming week?”

Rylie beamed. “I would be thrilled.”

“Then record me playing it. I’m going to send it to the guys so they can become familiar with it.”

She did as he asked. Nash got it down in a single take. She sent the video to him, and he quickly forwarded it to his bandmates and sound people, as well as Chuck and Phil.

Pulling her into his lap again, Nash told her, “By the time you get to the studio on Monday, we’ll be able to play this for you. I think you just co-wrote a number one song, darlin.’ A damn fine one.”

CHAPTER 24

Nash drove Rylie to the Barton County Courthouse to purchase their marriage license. They pulled up and saw Jackson waiting for them on the front steps.

Jackson greeted them, and they went into the building, where he directed them to the county clerk’s office.

“Hi, Bertha,” Jackson said to the clerk.

Her eyes lit up. “Why, Jackson Martin. How is married life?”

“It’s great. Ainsley and I are going to be leaving early next week for our delayed honeymoon. Paris.”

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