Unsung by Shannon Richard

this?” he asked, handing her a short tumbler as he took a seat next to her on the couch.
    She took a sip and nodded. “Mmm, perfect. I haven’t had a gin and tonic in a while. They’re my dad’s specialty and you make a pretty mean one.”
    “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
    “You should.”
    She took another sip of her drink as she nodded to the guitar that was resting against the chair next to the sofa. “So you play, too, Mr. Music Lover?”
    He’d apparently forgotten to put it away before she’d come over. A good portion of his afternoon had been spent working on a song that he couldn’t get out of his head.
    The interesting part? Not only was it a ballad, it was a love song. Two things that he’d never written successfully before. Sure he had lust down pat. He’d written more than a few on that subject. But this song, well, it wasn’t about that.
    It was completely and entirely different. Which wasn’t a bad thing at all.
    The reason for his current stint in Nashville was finishing up his newest record. His label wanted one more song.
    “Something they haven’t seen from you before,” his manager Gary Kirkland had told him about a thousand times.
    And there it was, his sudden spark of inspiration wrapped up in a beautiful woman. But what could he say? The woman in question was very inspiring.
    At least he’d had the sense of mind to close his notebook that was sitting on the coffee table. One look at the first verse would leave no doubt as to whom his newest song was about. If he ended up recording it she’d know it was about her. She’d have to.
    “I dabble.” Apparently she wasn’t the only one still keeping things a secret. For whatever reason, he found that he wasn’t quite ready for her to know what he did for a living.
    “You dabble?” she repeated. “And dabbling involves writing your own songs?”
    His eyebrows rose in question.
    “I saw that notebook in the truck.” She pointed to the coffee table. “And it’s filled with something that looks remarkably like songs.”
    “Can’t get anything by you, can I?” He shook his head.
    “Would you play something for me?”
    “Sure.” He nodded as he leaned forward, setting his glass on the table before reaching for his guitar. He was coming to the very real conclusion that he’d do just about anything she asked.
    He’d had half a dozen songs make it to the airwaves, and they were regularly played to where people who were fans of country knew of at least one. He wondered if Harper knew them. If she’d ever had her radio up loud, the windows down as she sang along.
    Yeah he’d always hoped his songs were something to strike a chord with people, but there was something absolutely remarkable about the idea of his words coming across her lips. He wanted so desperately for his songs to mean something to her .
    For the first time in a long time, he was nervous as he settled his guitar on his lap and placed his fingers over the correct strings. He took a deep breath before he strummed the first chord, humming to himself before he started with the chorus.
    “A day, a week, a month, a year. It would never be enough. I want forever, honey. Forever with you.”
    His head came up and he focused on her face. Her mouth had fallen open slightly and her eyes had gone wide.
    “A million simple things that aren’t so simple at all. Your hand in mine. The taste of your tongue. Your head on my chest. You stealing my heart.”
    A heart that was currently pounding out of his chest. This was ridiculous.
    “A day, a week, a month, a year. It would never be enough. I want forever, honey. Forever with you.”
    He sang the chorus one last time, discovering a new chord that he hadn’t known seconds before and knowing that he’d hit the nail on the head.
    Harper’s eyes hadn’t left his, and when he finished she just sat there for a second in stunned silence before she spoke. “You wrote that?” The question was little more than a whisper on