to.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
K enzie was up half the night trying to perfect her verse of the song, and went through several sheets of paper worth of false starts. First, she tried for happy and upbeat, but then she remembered Chase’s words about wanting a song that came from the heart. Nope. The whole “love is amazing and wonderful” thing felt a little hollow to Kenzie.
It was close to two a.m. when she finally had a verse she’d be comfortable sharing with Chase. She should have collapsed in a heap on her bed at that point, but Kenzie was wired from too much sweet tea and couldn’t fall sleep, so she stayed up two more hours watching the shopping channel. Finally, about four a.m., after ordering a great set of earrings for Aunt Audrey, Kenzie finally dozed off.
She didn’t stir again until the door buzzed shortly after nine, and she jolted out of bed with a start. Chase was here. Kenzie let him in the building and met him at her door, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“Did I wake you?” he asked. To his credit, Chase looked fully awake. He was clean shaven, and his still-damp hair was hanging over his brow. Today, he wore a Dartmouth T-shirt, faded jeans and the familiar combat boots.
Time to get this man a pair of alligator-skinned Luccheses, Kenzie thought, followed by a Down, girl. The sooner she got control of this attraction, the better.
“Yes, sorry,” she said, glancing sheepishly down at her Vanderbilt Commodores sleep pants and oversized Tennessee Titans T-shirt. It was highly doubtful that Chase was having any sexually-charged thoughts about her dressed this way, especially with her hair pulled back in a disheveled ponytail. “I was up late.”
“Writing lyrics?”
“Yeah,” Kenzie admitted. “Or trying to.”
“I know the feeling,” Chase said. “It wasn’t easy.”
“No.” So he struggled, too? Given his relaxed and fully awake appearance, Kenzie wouldn’t have guessed. “I got it, though. At least I think so. Can I get you some coffee?”
Chase nodded. “Sure. Coffee’s good.” He followed her into the kitchen, where she pulled out a handful of single serve packages.
“Pick your poison,” she said.
“Doesn’t matter much.” He pointed to one without even glancing at it. He obviously wasn’t the coffee aficionado that she was.
Kenzie brewed his classic roast, then her own preferred flavor, and set both on the table.
Chase took a drink, nodded, then asked, “What’s yours? It smells good.”
“Gingerbread,” she said. “And it is good.”
“My cousin’s wife has one of those fancy-schmancy coffee makers, and always has at least ten different flavors on hand.”
Kenzie laughed. “Then I like her already.”
“She’s a good woman, for sure,” Chase said, taking a drink. “So tell me about the lyrics you wrote.”
“Hold on a sec,” Kenzie told him, and ran up the steps to the loft area. She retrieved her notepad and took it back to the kitchen, where she set it on the table.
Chase didn’t even look at it before pushing it away.
“What? It’s so bad you can’t even look?”
“Of course not.” Chase gave her a smile. “I don’t want to read your lyrics, Kenz. I want you to explain them. Or better yet, sing them to me.”
“You want me to sing them?” Kenzie stared at him. “When we haven’t even discussed a chord progression or musical accompaniment?”
“That’s right. Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t already practiced singing them, and have an idea what the notes are.”
She couldn’t deny it. That was part of what kept her up late, trying to get everything just right. “I have,” she admitted. “But singing them in front of someone else is a different story.”
“Come on, I don’t bite,” Chase urged. “And it’s not like you won’t have to sing them for Keith next week. He’ll be a more critical audience than me.”
Kenzie didn’t doubt that, so she took a
CHAPTER EIGHT
K enzie was up half the night trying to perfect her verse of the song, and went through several sheets of paper worth of false starts. First, she tried for happy and upbeat, but then she remembered Chase’s words about wanting a song that came from the heart. Nope. The whole “love is amazing and wonderful” thing felt a little hollow to Kenzie.
It was close to two a.m. when she finally had a verse she’d be comfortable sharing with Chase. She should have collapsed in a heap on her bed at that point, but Kenzie was wired from too much sweet tea and couldn’t fall sleep, so she stayed up two more hours watching the shopping channel. Finally, about four a.m., after ordering a great set of earrings for Aunt Audrey, Kenzie finally dozed off.
She didn’t stir again until the door buzzed shortly after nine, and she jolted out of bed with a start. Chase was here. Kenzie let him in the building and met him at her door, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“Did I wake you?” he asked. To his credit, Chase looked fully awake. He was clean shaven, and his still-damp hair was hanging over his brow. Today, he wore a Dartmouth T-shirt, faded jeans and the familiar combat boots.
Time to get this man a pair of alligator-skinned Luccheses, Kenzie thought, followed by a Down, girl. The sooner she got control of this attraction, the better.
“Yes, sorry,” she said, glancing sheepishly down at her Vanderbilt Commodores sleep pants and oversized Tennessee Titans T-shirt. It was highly doubtful that Chase was having any sexually-charged thoughts about her dressed this way, especially with her hair pulled back in a disheveled ponytail. “I was up late.”
“Writing lyrics?”
“Yeah,” Kenzie admitted. “Or trying to.”
“I know the feeling,” Chase said. “It wasn’t easy.”
“No.” So he struggled, too? Given his relaxed and fully awake appearance, Kenzie wouldn’t have guessed. “I got it, though. At least I think so. Can I get you some coffee?”
Chase nodded. “Sure. Coffee’s good.” He followed her into the kitchen, where she pulled out a handful of single serve packages.
“Pick your poison,” she said.
“Doesn’t matter much.” He pointed to one without even glancing at it. He obviously wasn’t the coffee aficionado that she was.
Kenzie brewed his classic roast, then her own preferred flavor, and set both on the table.
Chase took a drink, nodded, then asked, “What’s yours? It smells good.”
“Gingerbread,” she said. “And it is good.”
“My cousin’s wife has one of those fancy-schmancy coffee makers, and always has at least ten different flavors on hand.”
Kenzie laughed. “Then I like her already.”
“She’s a good woman, for sure,” Chase said, taking a drink. “So tell me about the lyrics you wrote.”
“Hold on a sec,” Kenzie told him, and ran up the steps to the loft area. She retrieved her notepad and took it back to the kitchen, where she set it on the table.
Chase didn’t even look at it before pushing it away.
“What? It’s so bad you can’t even look?”
“Of course not.” Chase gave her a smile. “I don’t want to read your lyrics, Kenz. I want you to explain them. Or better yet, sing them to me.”
“You want me to sing them?” Kenzie stared at him. “When we haven’t even discussed a chord progression or musical accompaniment?”
“That’s right. Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t already practiced singing them, and have an idea what the notes are.”
She couldn’t deny it. That was part of what kept her up late, trying to get everything just right. “I have,” she admitted. “But singing them in front of someone else is a different story.”
“Come on, I don’t bite,” Chase urged. “And it’s not like you won’t have to sing them for Keith next week. He’ll be a more critical audience than me.”
Kenzie didn’t doubt that, so she took a
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