CHAPTER 26
“Are you sure about this?” Cash asked from his favorite spot in front of the window as Kate flipped open the laptop that Sterling had delivered. “You don’t have to do this.”
Kate nodded, making some final tweaks to the digital sound board. Sterling had managed to secure everything on her wish list, and over the past couple of days, she’d familiarized herself with the ins and outs of her portable recording studio. A little thrill of excitement ran through her. “I know. But I want to. I want to try. I’ve had words humming around my head for days, and I’ve never been in charge of my own artistic process from start to finish. I want to see what it feels like. And if I suck at it, and the audience ends up hating me, then so be it. At least I’ll know.”
“They’ll never hate you, Kate. I’m sure of it.” He spoke sincerely, but at the same time, she got the feeling he was holding himself in check. Not saying whatever it was that he really wanted to say.
Kate hated the way everything between them had become so stilted. That every glance, every touch, was loaded with meaning. He was pulling away. She could feel it, and she didn’t know what to do about it. Now more than ever, she needed to face these hurdles and take her lumps like a grown-up.
“You want me to bug out?” Cash asked, still staring out the window. His shoulders knotted with tension.
In the past, she’d always insisted on no guests during a recording session. No one extraneous in the sound booth or in the recording space. But she was by herself now. It was all on her. Cash had heard her humming for weeks now, singing little snippets of lyrics when she felt brave enough to try something. Why not? Maybe she needed to throw caution to the wind. Do everything differently this time.
“You can stay if you like,” she hedged, wanting to give him the out if he was looking for one.
He turned and studied her, face inscrutable. “Do you want me to stay?”
Butterflies took flight in her belly as the air between them crackled to life. “Yes,” she spoke with certainty. “Yes, I do.”
He ghosted a smile and for the quickest of seconds – so fast, she might have been imagining it – heat flared to life in his eyes. Her throat parched with wanting. They were alone… there was nothing to stop them from losing themselves in each other, nothing to stop her from jumping into his arms. Warmth rushed through her, sending licks of desire to her clit. She wanted the feel of him inside her, the fullness, the friction, the release.
As if reading her thoughts, he moved to her, stopping so close the heat radiating off him burned her. His scent overwhelmed her, masculine and earthy. Music swirled in her head as she leaned in and tilted her chin to accept his kiss. His lips moved against hers, probing, and with a sigh she opened to receive his tongue, gently sweeping against hers in a silent dance. The sweetness of it brought tears to her eyes. She would take everything this man had to offer. Even if it was only a kiss. His knuckles brushed along her cheek. “So sweet,” he murmured. Too soon, he pulled back. “Do you want some tea?”
She shook her head. “Only water right now.” He looked ready to move past her, to retreat to his office, where he’d hidden out the majority of the last few days while she’d played around with the equipment. “You’re welcome to hang out on the couch while I record. I don’t think it should take too long. I’ve done enough practicing. If she got clean recordings, she’d be done with the bulk of her work in a few hours. She could spend the rest of the night and tomorrow working on post-production.
Cash’s face filled with concern. “Your throat holding up okay?”
She tipped her head, giving a shrug. “I’ve been singing light. It feels fuzzy, but that may just be how it is from here on out. The nice thing about a setup like this is that I don’t have to belt to be heard. The mic will pick up everything.”
The old familiar pre-recording buzz of adrenaline filled her veins. Cash sat on the couch, bracing his arms on his knees, watching her curiously. She felt strangely exposed under his scrutiny. Never before had she allowed anyone to see her process. It was a part of herself she kept intensely private, as if allowing someone to observe her took some of her magic. Yet, every time she glanced over her shoulder at him, her pulse kicked up. He followed her movements with pride in his eyes. Appreciation. More importantly, respect. He respected her expertise, her artistry. And he’d never really heard her sing. She resisted the urge to crawl into his lap and put off recording for another time. As tempting as the thought was, she couldn’t put it off any longer.
Sitting on a stool she’d dragged out from the kitchen, she picked up her guitar, and adjusted the pop filter. Leaning over to a second stool she’d commandeered, she hit the space bar on her laptop, starting the recording. Her blood pumped furiously as she double checked her tuning. She cast a final glance over to Cash. The light in his eyes made her heart trip. She gave him a wink and turned back to the mic, shutting her eyes. Her fingers slid over the chords and rhythms she knew like an old friend. The music washed over her and she gave herself over to the joy of it.
When I was a child, no more’n six, Daddy’d come home, twirl mama ’round, give her a kiss…
Then he’d swing me next, give me his hand and toss me high
And Daddy said
Dance with me – under the stars of a moonless sky
Dance with me we’ll grow old together, our love will never die…
Dance with me – in the shade of the old oak tree
I’ll swing you ’round and carry you home if you’ll just Dance with me…
It didn’t matter she’d changed the words in the moment. It was still her song. And she was finally recording it the way she liked. The way she’d imagined. As she circled back to the refrain a final time, she changed up the melody, letting her voice go where it willed. She dropped her head back as the last chord died away and counted to three. Then as quietly as she could, she reached over and hit the space bar, stopping the recording. A rush of excitement flooded her, and she grinned over at Cash, who silently returned her smile with two thumbs up.
“We can talk now,” she murmured quietly.
“That was damn near perfect,” he said, awe filling his voice. “You’re something else, Kate.”
Her throat ached as a wave of emotion welled up in her chest. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
He held her gaze. “Me too.”
“The other ones might not be as polished. They’re too new.”
“I don’t believe it.”
She laughed a little self-consciously, warming under his intense stare. “Might as well make yourself comfortable, these next songs might take a while.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Her mouth spontaneously curled up. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when she’d invited him to stay, but singing in front of him was so easy. Like breathing. She took comfort in his quiet support. It wouldn’t matter if she made a mistake. Sang a note not quite true, or bent a note wrong on the guitar. There would be no judgment from Cash.
“Would it help if I shut my eyes?” His voice had gone husky.
She couldn’t stop smiling at him. “Sure. Whatever you like.” She dragged her eyes away and detuned the e-string for the next piece. When she was ready, she hit record, took a breath and let her fingers fly over the strings. The months of practicing the mandolin had made her a better picker, and this song was perfect for her new skills.
Love’s a fickle lady.
She don’t stick around for long.
Gotta stake your claim, take it while you can.
’Cause when love comes dancing in, you hold on… You hold on…
Will you hold on? Build a house of love, fill it with more?
She won’t come knocking twice
I wanna make it last, I wanna hold on, hold on… Will you hold on?
She lost herself in the intricacies of the guitar part, in the way the verses wove a story of a love greater than the mountains, older than time. As the final note died away, she heard Cash’s rhythmic, relaxed breathing. Sure enough, his head was thrown back, resting on the back of the couch. In sleep, his face was softer, gentler. Poor man. She could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. She retuned, letting the recording continue to run, she could separate the tracks later.
The final songs flowed easily, and she poured her heart and soul into every word, secretly singing every love song to Cash. Whatever the future held for them, she could at least give him this gift. They might not be her cleanest recordings, her voice was huskier, and she no longer had soaring high notes. A stadium concert was permanently out of reach, but a studio album? Not so much. Especially if she recorded the songs in short bursts. Her throat ached. She’d have to spend the next couple of days recovering, but it had felt worse.
Emma’s phone number stared up at her from a pad of paper on the coffee table. Guilt niggled at her as she replaced her guitar in its case, and slowly packed up the microphones and cords. The video hadn’t been Emma’s fault, and if it really had over four-million views, maybe she could turn what felt like a disaster into something good. Reaching for her phone, she shot off a quick text to her lawyer.
K: Any word from Franco?
A few minutes later, her phone buzzed.
B: He got the message loud and clear.
K: You’re the best! :)
B: That’s why you pay me the big bucks :)
And he was worth every penny. He’d gone over her contract with a fine-toothed comb, and sent Franco DiAngelo a stern letter about frivolous lawsuits, and pointing out what clause in her contract allowed her to fire him at will.
I wonder what Helene thought of all that. She could see her mother’s face pinched with frustration at the thought. Too bad. It was time for her to run things for herself from here on out.
Taking a deep breath, she dialed Emma’s number.
“This is Emma.”
Kate could hear the exhaustion in her voice, and her heart went out to the young woman. This whole ordeal had obviously been hard on Emma too. Taking a big breath, she jumped into the conversation before she could chicken out. “Emma, hi. This is Kate Montgomery… Kaycee Starr?”
Emma hesitated before speaking. “Yes?”
“I assume you heard from my lawyer?”
Emma let out a sigh. “Two days ago. Thank you for dropping the suit,” she said quietly.
Kate swallowed, tongue in knots and nervous energy fluttering in her chest.
Emma ended the awkward silence. “Kate, I’m so sorry. I never intended–”
“I wanted to let you know that if the offer still stands,” Kate rushed before she chickened out. “I-I’d be honored to make an appearance at the fundraiser you’re putting together in a few weeks.”
“You will?” She sounded incredulous.
“I’m not sure how good it will sound–”
“Oh you’ll be incredible,” Emma gushed. “People will be thrilled.”
“I hope so. I do ask that you keep it under wraps. Let it be a surprise to the audience. That way the ranch won’t be overwhelmed.”
“Of course, I can work with Travis and Weston on extra security measures as well.”
“I had an idea I wanted to run by you.”
“Yes?”
It had only just occurred to her while she was recording her final song, but she might as well float it and see what Emma thought. “I just finished recording four songs. I was thinking about releasing them as an EP, and donating all the proceeds to Resolution Ranch. What do you think?”
“Are you kidding?” Emma squeaked. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Tying your name to the ranch will raise its profile immensely. And you have the power to help raise significant revenue for the ranch. Having you partner with us would be a dream come true.”