Maggie touches my upper arm. “You know we’re only teasing. You have every right to feel the way you do, and I understand it. I want to reassure you you’re still in charge here. I’ll go at your pace.”
“Sounds familiar,” Lyric murmurs.
When my gaze snaps to his, he throws me an innocent “what?” expression.
“On that note, I’ll leave you two to it and go check on Kaylee.” Maggie walks away, and Lyric watches her leave.
Once she’s out of sight, he turns his smile on me.
“Hey.” He leans in and kisses my cheek.
“Hi.”
“That okay?”
“More than okay.” I kiss his lips briefly.
It’s not enough, but it has to be because Kaylee could come out here any minute.
“So, she’s staying, huh?”
“She will be. She has some things to get straightened out first, but it looks like she’ll be moving here permanently.”
“Ah. Uh, cool. I guess I’ll be looking for a new job soon?”
Oh shit. I didn’t even think of that. “We’ll still need you.”
“Just not as much. It’s okay. This was never going to be a long-term thing anyway. Kaylee starts school in a few months.”
“Hey, maybe look on the bright side? When we finish your demo, you won’t even need this job because you’re going to get signed.”
Lyric doesn’t look convinced.
“Maggie’s only here for six more days, and then she’ll be back in a few weeks. I was thinking …”
“She should spend as much time with Kaylee as she can while she’s here?”
“Well, yes, but we can use that time to record. I don’t have any producing work scheduled for two more days.”
If sex had a tone, it just fell out of my mouth, but I didn’t mean it to come out that way. Well, not entirely.
“How much work do you think we’re really going to get done when you say it like that?”
I throw up my hand and make the Vulcan salute from Star Trek. “Scout’s honor.” No way I’m actually promising that for real.
Lyric snorts.
“Okay, I promise to be professional while we’re recording.” When we’re done for the day, that’s another story. “I figure with Maggie around more, we’ll actually have a chance to do this right. I could go on a real date with you.”
“A date? Like an actual, go to dinner and sit across from each other and talk about our lives type of date?”
“It might not have PDA, but it’s the closest thing to a real date I can offer.”
“Do you really think you can be professional until Maggie gets back?” Lyric’s doubtful expression mirrors my exact thoughts.
“Probably not.”
Chapter Eighteen
Lyric
Surprisingly, Ryder manages to keep it professional. For two days. Minus a sneaky kiss on the cheek here and there, we’ve mainly been in the studio doing actual work while Maggie has taken Kaylee to playgroup.
Maggie staying is a good thing. It’ll be great for Ryder to have a little more freedom and even better for Kaylee to spend quality time with her mom.
But it does feel like my time as her nanny will be cut short.
And I have to wonder how much effort Ryder will put into seeing me if I’m not conveniently there all the time.
He says what we have isn’t about convenience, but I’m still not convinced.
Saturday night rolls around, and as I take to the stage at Cedar Bar for my weekend gig, I see a figure in the audience my body automatically knows is Ryder.
It’s all the convincing I need.
He came to see me play.
Unlike when Cash was in the audience, I’m not nervous.
Okay, I’m a little nervous, but I’ve performed in front of Ryder countless times now. I want to show him I’m taking his advice. I’m listening to him. I’ve tweaked my sets and chosen songs that show off more of my range.
I’ve taken my song choices to a new level where I don’t ask if it’s too mainstream or has the perfect amount of obscure to popular ratio.
I don’t give a shit what other people think. I’m only taking my own personal opinion into account.
If I’m honest, it’s changed the entire way I listen to music.
I may never be a boy band fan, but I’ve reached a new level of appreciation for them. Thanks to Ryder.
Still ain’t gonna fucking sing one of their songs, though.
My eyes meet the shadowy figure in the audience. He’s in a denim jacket with a gray hood to try to conceal his identity, and as selfish as it is, I hope he isn’t recognized.
He’s here for me, and I kinda want to keep it that way.
It’s hard not to rush through the set so I can go to him, which is ridiculous because we saw each other yesterday.
He had a new act in the studio today—something he usually doesn’t do on weekends. I would’ve worked, but Maggie was able to take Kaylee.
The beginning of the end of my time as Kaylee’s nanny.
I thought Ryder was going to be in the studio all day, but I guess they finished up early.
While I perform, my gaze keeps going back to him, even though I can basically only see the outline of him under the stage lights.
After a million hours onstage, I finally get to my last song, but as I put my mouth to the microphone, I hesitate.
I decide to change it up by singing our version of “Take Me to Church.”
Though I can’t see his expression throughout it, I imagine him staring at me in the hungry way he has been while we’ve been in the studio.
The heat in his eyes and the tight set of his jaw.
My dick is hard just picturing it. I’ve never been more grateful to have my guitar onstage with me.
When I get to the bridge and belt out the lyrics, I close my eyes and remember what it felt like to have Ryder’s hands on me. His mouth.
I want it again.
Since when does a four-minute song feel like an eternity?
When I get to the final chorus, I try to lock eyes on him again, but he’s gone.
I stumble over the last note and am quick to leave the stage before the applause even begins to die down.
Ryder must’ve left to beat the crowd or perhaps he was recognized. I try to head for the entrance to follow him, but Alex the bartender appears in front of me and stops me with his hand on my chest.
“You might wanna check your dressing room.”
I hate that I can’t contain my smile.
“How in the hell are you getting all these celebrities to come see you play?”
Cocky is something I can play well when I need to. I definitely don’t need to tell Alex neither Cash nor Ryder were here for musical reasons. “Did you not see me up there? I’m on fire.”
He doesn’t really believe me.
“For real. Ryder wants to get me a record deal.”
“Ryder. Sure, because everyone in LA is on a first-name basis with Ryder-fucking-Kennedy.”
“Anyone who has talent is.” I slap his shoulder. “Sorry.”
“Can you at least get one of them to come see my set some time?” he calls after me as I make my way to the back.