Chapter Eight
Leighton Mitchell
SCARLETT AND I ARE SITTING on the living room couch. It’s approaching noon, and she’s just taken her midday bottle. Miss prissy pants will be knocked out for her nap at any minute. And as much as I adore her, I look forward to this me time each day.
I hear the sound of Judd’s guitar carrying from his studio on the other side of the house. He’s left the door open again. It’s been a month, and he still forgets that we’re here. But it’s fine. Scarlett is soothed by the sound of her daddy’s music.
Judd is taking advantage of this time off of the road to write again. I obviously don’t know how he is when he’s on the road, but being here working in his studio seems to make him happy.
Scarlett dozes off, and I take her to her crib. I already know that I have ninety-five minutes to myself until she’s up again. One good thing about Miss prissy pants and me . . . we have our daily routines down pat.
There’s a new sound coming from Judd’s studio—a piano—and I’m drawn to it. I’m dying to know if it’s him playing it or if I’m hearing a recording.
I stop inside the studio door and admire the way that Judd looks sitting at the black grand piano: his taut T-shirt straining over his powerful chest and back, his muscular arms outstretched, his big hands moving over the keys. I see this man every day, and I swear to God that I think he gets better looking by the day.
Chills erupt over my entire body when he begins singing a song that I’ve never heard.
As I pull you close to me tonight
I want you to know that
Our love is so perfect and true
And I don’t want to live a single day without you
Now that you’re mine to have and hold
I’ll never let you go
He notices me standing in the doorway, and his deep chocolate brown eyes connect with my steel blue ones. He hits a bad key and stops playing, a huge smile spreading over his face. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to hear how beautiful that song is. Please don’t stop on my account.”
“Do you like it?” The hopeful anticipation that I see in his eyes reminds me of a child looking for praise.
“I didn’t hear much, but I loved the few lines that I did hear.”
“Scarlett is down?”
“She is.”
He pats the bench next to him. “Come sit with me. We’ll sing it together.”
I go to the piano and sit beside him on the bench. “How am I supposed to sing with you when I don’t know the song?”
He points to the sheet music on the piano. “Lyrics are right there.”
“I don’t know the music.”
He plays several notes. “Very easy melody to pick up on.”
“Says the musician.”
He plays the notes again and points to the lyrics. “I’ll pick up with the chorus right here, and you can join in when you have a feel for it.”
You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted
The only one I’ll ever need
‘Cause you’re everything to me
And every day that goes by
I only love you more
Than I did the day before
We finish the song and Judd turns to look at me. “You sly little fox. You know music, and you can sing.”
“Everyone can sing, but that doesn’t mean that they should.” I don’t have a great singing voice, and I know that. Reason I’ve never pursued anything more than chorus in high school.
“Your singing voice is raspy. You’ve got a Stevie Nicks-Bonnie Tyler vibe going on.”
“I’ve been told that my singing voice is . . . unusual.” It wasn’t loved by the chorus teacher.
“I wasn’t expecting to hear that kind of sound out of you. I thought you’d have an average voice.” He tilts his head. “But I’m impressed.”
“Then you’re far too easily impressed.”
“You could do something with it if you practiced.”
Do something with it? Like what? “I sing to Scarlett. She doesn’t care what I sound like, and that’s good enough for me.”
He gets up from the piano and fetches his guitar from its stand. “Will you indulge me for a minute?”
“Depends on how?”
“Do you know Dolly Parton’s ‘Jolene’?”
“Everyone knows ‘Jolene.’”
“That song would sound great with your raspy voice.”
I hold up my hands. “Oh no. I’ve sung all that I’m going to sing today.”
“Please, Leighton.”
I cover my face with my hand. “No . . . Judd. It’s embarrassing.” He’s a mega-superstar. It’s uncomfortable to sing in front of him.
“I love the sound of your voice. Just try the chorus. For me. Please?”
He begins playing, keeping rhythm with the tap of his foot and nod of his head. I see that he isn’t going to take no for an answer when he begins whispering the lyrics for me to join in.
I begin by whispering with him, gradually growing louder until I’m belting out the lyrics. And I sound pretty damn good if I do say so myself. Better than most of the contestants on these television singing competitions.
We finish the song, and I nearly die of humiliation when I hear someone clapping.
“Leighton . . . that was wonderful. I had no idea that you could sing,” Diane Mathews says.
I shrug. “We were just playing around.”
“The woman doesn’t realize how well she sings,” Judd tells his mom.
“Yes, she does sing well, but I missed most of that one. I want to hear a full song. A duet. Something older . . . and maybe by Dolly and Kenny.”
Diane winks and Judd grins. “She wants to hear ‘Islands in the Stream’ in case you didn’t figure that out on your own. It’s her all-time favorite song. Do you know the lyrics?”
I should lie and say that I don’t so I can get out of it. But that’s not what I do; I sort of like singing with Judd. And I love hearing his praise. “A little, but it’s been a while since I’ve heard it. I should probably look up the lyrics to be safe.”
“Sit close and hold up your phone so I can cheat with you.”
“You’re Judd Mathews, and you don’t know the words to a classic country song like ‘Islands in the Stream’? What kind of country musician are you?”
“I know the chorus well, but I’m not a hundred percent sure about the rest of the lyrics. I don’t go around singing that song all of the time, but I may take you on the road with me and start. I’m sure that the fans would love it.”
“Sorry. I have other job priorities involving the lady of the house.”
We lean close so we can both see the lyrics on my phone. Judd’s part of the duet comes first. And I’m glad he has to take the lead; I’m not entirely confident about singing this song. It’s been a while since I’ve listened to it.
Diane must love this song. She looks like she’s in heaven.
Judd’s eyes connect with mine, and for a moment it seems like we’re singing this song to each other. It feels like . . . we’re having a moment. A very intimate moment. And I like it, but it’s not real. The song and its lyrics about making love are fooling me into feeling something that isn’t there. To Judd, this is nothing more than simply singing a song together per his mother’s request.
Diane claps when we finish. “That was wonderful. Thank you for that treat, Leighton.”
Judd returns his guitar to its stand. “Did you come by to visit, or is something going on?”
“Just came by to see my sweet little grandbaby.” Diane is crazy about Scarlett. She can’t go long without coming by to see her.
I look at my watch. “She just went down for her nap. She won’t wake up until around one-thirty or one-forty.”
“You have our girl on a tight schedule.”
“I was a NICU nurse for too long to not keep her on a schedule. It’s the only way I know how to do it.”
“I don’t have anything to do if the two of you want to get out of here for a while.”
I’m with Scarlett day and night, and it’s fine because that’s my job, but I wouldn’t mind a little break.
Diane looks at Judd. “You should take Leighton out for lunch.”
“I would love to do that if people would leave us alone, but you know that they’ll harass the shit out of us. We won’t be able to eat in peace.”
I can’t imagine not being able to go out in public without being hounded by people.
“Then take her out for a ride. I’ll pack a lunch for you while you saddle the horses.”
Judd looks at me. “Would you want to do that?”
A girl has to eat, so why not? “I would love that. Sounds like fun.”
Judd Mathews on a horse . . . I have a feeling that I won’t mind seeing that at all.