A Winter Wedding(69)

Baby. “Good luck with that,” Lourdes muttered. She was fairly certain Derrick didn’t want children and that he wouldn’t be a very devoted father if he had any.

The last choice was:

No judgments here. Give the guy a cigar. Any man who’s slept with both Lourdes Bennett and Crystal Holtree is hands down the luckiest man on earth.

Lourdes grimaced, disgusted that anyone would applaud his infidelity.

There was a noise at the door—the key in the lock. Instantly relieved, she looked up as Kyle came in.

“Hey, how was your day?” he asked when he saw her.

As usual, he’d left for work before she got up. That was becoming their routine. He’d head off at the break of day, she’d get up an hour or two later, do some yoga and then write until it was time to cook dinner. Fortunately, she hadn’t seen a soul since Noelle had dropped off that meal. Even Noelle hadn’t been back for that photograph she’d requested.

“My day was good until I got on the computer,” she admitted.

He tossed his keys on the counter. “Word’s out?”

“Yeah. The vultures are circling, looking for any opportunity to pick my bones. You should see what these people have written...”

When he walked over, she thought he was going to read what she’d found. Instead, he closed her laptop. “Don’t look at that stuff.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“No, and I don’t want to.”

“It’s just like I said it would be—crazy.”

“I believe you. But who cares what they say? Let them say what they want. You’ll show them when you put out your next album and it goes platinum within a few weeks.”

She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. “You really think I can do it?”

“I have no doubt.”

That helped. The past couple of nights she’d sung him snippets of what she’d been working on during the day. She didn’t have a lot done—a couple of melodies with partial lyrics. But they were seeds, good seeds, and she was grateful to have at least started her next album. When she’d arrived in Whiskey Creek, she hadn’t been able to come up with a single new idea. She’d been too anxious, too preoccupied with all the wreckage in her life.

Until she’d met Kyle.

“Derrick’s betting against me.” She rested her chin on her knees as she gazed up at him. “He doesn’t believe I can stage a comeback.”

Kyle pulled out the closest chair and sat down. “How do you know?”

“He thinks Crystal has a greater chance of succeeding. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be sticking with her.”

“Then Derrick’s a fool.” His lips curved into the crooked grin she liked so much and, in spite of everything, she felt an answering smile tug at her own lips. When Kyle was around, her career and even her relationship with Derrick didn’t seem as important as when she was alone.

He gestured at her computer. “I hope you didn’t spend your entire day on the internet.”

“No.”

Angling his chin, he said, “Prove it.”

She felt her eyebrows go up. “How?”

“Get your guitar and show me what you’ve accomplished.”

She hadn’t accomplished dinner. That was one thing she’d let go, and she felt bad about it. He bought the groceries; she did the cooking. They had a deal. But ever since those texts from Derrick, she’d been consumed by the same fear that had made it so hard for her to function in Nashville. “I added a bit more to that anthem you like.”

“Good. The sooner you’re done with it, the better. That’s a kick-ass song.”

She favored songs about women overcoming challenges or beating the odds, which was why Martina McBride and Kelly Clarkson had always been two of her favorite artists.

“What about the ballad?” he asked.

“I fiddled with the melody, changed the key to make it more interesting, but...nothing more.”

“So let’s hear it.”

Normally, they had a companionable dinner. Then they’d have a glass of wine, which they’d take into the living room, and she’d test various lyrics or melodies on him. He seemed to enjoy listening to her. He claimed he didn’t possess any musical or writing talent, but she’d tweaked several things because of his feedback. She’d also come up with a name and a few bars for one song she hadn’t told him about—“Refuge,” the song she’d thought of that first day when she’d moved into his house and felt so inspired by how safe she felt here. She wanted to finish that before she mentioned it. She doubted he had any concept of how much their friendship had helped her, coming as it did at such a critical time. She’d been prepared for the worst Christmas ever, one full of heartbreak and confusion and loss. Instead, she was finding a completely unexpected sense of steadiness and calm.

“After I get you something for dinner.” She stood up, but he caught her hand as she walked by.

“Let’s go out. You’ve been in this house for over a week. You must be claustrophobic by now. I think it would be good to get a break. It might even help your writing.”

She had been feeling a little confined. But she didn’t want to run into anyone who might recognize her, especially now that there was so much gossip going around the internet.