Love Songs (3 page)

With a wink Clara was gone and Warner was sure he was going to lose consciousness and fall right out of his chair.

Clara knew exactly who he was. Crap!

Clara walked through the door and out to the plaza where Randy stood watching people walk by. She looked back into the Starbucks where Warner shoved papers back into his bag.

“What’s with the guy?” Randy asked as they started down the street.

“Song writer. Wants me to demo his work for him.”

Randy nodded. “Nice.”

“He’s cute too.”

Randy looked back. “Just your style. Blond and a complete mess.”

“What does that mean?”

He laughed. “You would die if you married a suit.”

Clara nodded. “You’re right.” She handed him the song she’d borrowed from Warner. “This is one of his pieces.”

Randy took the paper and looked it over. Obviously the song played in his head as he read it. “This is good.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She took it back and looked it over. “Think we can pull this together and perform it tomorrow?”

“It’s simple enough.”

She thought of the look Warner would have on his face when he heard his song. That would be priceless.

Then she thought about putting him to the true test of who he was. The entire Keller family would be there to see her and Randy perform. Warner could certainly use a dose of family, she was sure. It had to be horrible to have lost your father and your stepmother was some reality TV show hag.

In the right hands, Warner Wright could be a super star. In her hands, he could be taken care of.

There was a tightening in her chest as Randy grabbed her hand and pulled her across the street. Why did she want to take care of Warner Wright?

Clara hadn’t noticed she was hungry until Randy mentioned stopping into a small diner before they rehearsed. She hadn’t eaten breakfast. She’d only downed those coffee drinks and now she was shaky. It wasn’t quite lunch time, but that didn’t seem to faze Randy. Then again, not much did.

She’d ordered eggs and toast, but she didn’t realize she really hadn’t eaten much when Randy reached across the table, grabbed hold of her hand, and stopped her from just pushing her eggs around.

“What’s up with you today?” he asked releasing her hand.

She set down her fork. “Do you know who Warner Wright is?”

“That guy you met at Starbucks?”

“Yeah. Did you recognize him?”

Randy bit into his toast. “Should I?”

“You know who Patricia Little is, right?”

“Hag.”

She snorted a laugh. Who in Nashville didn’t know Patricia Little? She’d wrecked the OX’s career. No one was going to forget that.

“Have you ever seen her show?”

“That reality show? Are you kidding me? Why rot my brain?”

Even though she agreed with him, she just couldn’t help herself. “Well, see, when they interview Patricia Little she’s always in front of her fireplace. And on her mantel she has all of these family pictures.” She began stirring her eggs again. “I’m not sure what the point of the family pictures are. I mean, none of the kids are hers. She doesn’t talk nice about any of them anyway.”

“Clara, you’re not making much sense.”

No, she wasn’t. “Warner Wright is one of Patricia Little’s stepchildren.”

Randy stopped chewing and just stared at her. Then he swallowed hard. “The man who wants you to sing his songs is the stepson of the woman who took down the OX and ruined his career?”

“In all fairness he’s her ex-step-son.”

“Not sure that’s comforting.”

Clara set down her fork again. “I don’t think he has anything to do with her. I mean wouldn’t he have mentioned it?”

Randy shrugged.

Clara thought about the song and about the man. Her family had secrets too—scandal even. But nothing compared to that of Patricia Little’s drama.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and began searching for information.

“What are you doing?” Randy choked out.

“Looking for information. Why is his picture still in her house? How long ago was she married to his dad?”

“Why does this matter?”

“I don’t know. I like him.”

“Why?”

Clara looked up at him and smiled. “He’s just my type right?”

Randy laughed. “You’re a mess.”

Clara searched for Patricia Little’s husband with the last name of Wright. Lewis Wright had been her second husband. “Oh, God.”

“What? Did he ruin someone’s career too?”

She looked up at him. Tears were welling in her eyes. “His father committed suicide.”

“Damn.”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You know what I hear in all this? He has baggage.”

“I have baggage.”

Randy wiped his mouth with his napkin and then threw it at her. “Clara Keller has no baggage.”

She bit down on her lip. He was right. She might come from the most eclectic family ever assembled, but her life had been squeaky clean. The only drama that had ever come about in her life was her mother’s cancer, which she beat, and most recently the admission that her brother’s fiancée was actually the baby her aunt had given up for adoption. Okay, when she thought about it, that did sound like some television drama. Though it just wasn’t that way. Her family wasn’t that way. The only person who was having a hard time dealing with her brother Ed’s fiancée was her cousin Tyler. But even he understood it, even if he did find it hard to deal with.

“Do you think I’m crazy to want to help him?”

“Yes.”

She dropped her shoulders. “That was a very definite answer.”

“You like to perform. You like to be on stage at the theater. He’s asking you to record.”

“So.”

“So, that’s not what you’ve wanted all this time.”

He was right. It sucked to have a best friend who knew you so well.

“It’s not like he wants me to be the talent for his songs. He just wants me to be the voice on the demo.”

Randy shook his head. “You’re going to fall for this guy and you’re going to get hurt.”

“I am not.”

“Not what? Going to fall or get hurt?”

She didn’t like how this conversation was going and worse she didn’t like that she couldn’t answer him.

Perhaps she needed to get to know him better. After all, she knew nothing except for what Patricia Little told the whole world on her trashy reality show.

Tomorrow, after the show, she’d get to know Warner Wright, but for now she needed to convince Randy to buy her breakfast. She had just realized she’d used all her money on Starbucks.

Only in Nashville could a bar be packed on a Wednesday night when the entertainment wasn’t a big name.

Warner figured he could very easily get lost in the crowd which had gathered at The Stage, but the only table open was only feet from the stage under the enormous mural that decorated the wall.

He made his way through the people and sat down.

“Oh, no. I already have a seat for you,” the charming voice he’d already fallen in love with spoke from behind him.

Warner turned to find Clara Keller, in a flowy white shirt and hip hugging jeans, standing behind him in some angelic glow with the lights illuminating the red highlights in her hair.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. That was a lot to observe when all he wanted to do was hear the woman sing.

“You have a seat for me?”

Clara pointed to the raised seating area just behind him where all the tables had been pushed together and every seat was taken, but one. “Your seat awaits among my fans.”

Warner’s palms began to sweat. He recognized the man from the theater, her uncle. Oh, dear Lord! If that was her uncle, and they were all staring at him with grins on their faces, this must be her family. Was the woman crazy? She wanted him to sit with her family? He wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready for any of this. God, no wonder they kept kicking him out of record exec’s offices. If he was a mess like this now, how could he possibly think he could have an artist criticize his work and change it?

He swallowed hard. He should be used to being under a microscope. Patricia Little had put him under one.

Seriously, he was having second thoughts about all this. Again, the bike courier job seemed like a better deal—in New York!

Clara took his hand and led him toward the group. The first man to stand narrowed his eyes at him. Warner’s mouth went dry.

“Warner, this is my father Carlos.”

The man extended his hand toward him and Warner shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise. So my little girl is going to help you with your songs?”

Oh, he felt little. “Yes. I think she is.”

Clara smiled at him. “He’s got some talent, Dad.”

“Well, wait until you really hear her.” Carlos smiled down at Clara and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders.

Clara pointed to a chair on the other side of the table. “You can sit there. That’s my brother Christian.” The man lifted his hand in a wave. “And my other brother Ed and his fiancée Darcy.” She looked at them all. “Is everyone here?”

Darcy pursed her lips and looked around. “All but Tyler.”

“I thought he was coming.”

Darcy let out a long breath and Ed took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “He doesn’t seem to feel very much like doing
family
things.”

There was a hesitation in her voice and Warner picked up on that right away. He’d heard that resonate from every person he’d ever been related to.

Clara turned to him. “Christian can introduce you to everyone.”

There was a whistle from the stage and both Clara and Warner turned their heads. She again held up a finger to the man who had waited for her outside the Starbucks.

“Sorry to abandon you. But they don’t bite.”

She gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and headed toward the man on the stage.

All eyes were on him again and there certainly was the thought that leaving without another word would be the right thing to do. Instead, he sucked up his courage and walked around the table to the empty seat.

Christian and Ed each moved their seats as to give him some room, or to distance themselves. It was Darcy who shifted in front of Ed to speak to him.

“This crowd looks dangerous, but they’re really nice.”

Warner knew his fear was wearing on his face.

Ed let out a snort. “C’mon. We’re supposed to look mean when Clara brings a man to the table.”

“Well I’m not her man. I mean we’re not seeing each other. Purely a working relationship,” Warner clarified.

Christian nodded with a laugh. “Sure. I wonder how long that’ll last.”

“I beg your pardon?” Warner wasn’t sure what a tight family dynamic was supposed to be like, but was this really it?

“You’re just her type.”

Ed gave a nod in agreement. “I suppose we should just put a stocking up with your name come Christmas.”

“What?”

Her brothers laughed and Darcy slapped Ed on the leg. “You seem like a very nice man. And Darcy has a type. It just happens that you fit that type.”

“Oh.” What was that really supposed to mean? “I thought she was with him.” He pointed to the man who had met her outside the Starbucks yesterday morning and now who sat with her on the stage, their heads together tuning up their guitars.

“Randy?” Ed chuckled. “Um, no.”

“No?”

“They’ve played together for years. She’s the background to his stardom. Just the way she likes it.”

That comment made no sense at all, until the music began and her family turned their attention toward Clara.

Randy was the lead guitar. Randy was the voice. This was his show. Clara’s voice and guitar added the harmony which made each song complete. They were right. She wasn’t the star of the show, but she made the star shine.

The waitress came by and took his drink order, how boring was he to order just a Pepsi, but he wanted to keep his wits about him. Though, halfway through their set he nearly spit the drink out when he heard the familiar melody he’d created.

This time it was Clara’s guitar in lead and her voice which resonated through the bar. The tempo had slowed down, the crowd had grown softer, and the eyes of her family had misted to
his
words. He wrote that song! This was the song she had borrowed and dear Lord, she made it sound good.

How was it that fate worked in such ways? She was just a person in a passing car. And now he could frankly fall in love with her. He wasn’t going to—but he could.

Randy hadn’t added much but an underlying hum where appropriate and a shift in the harmony, which worked. It wasn’t how Warner would have done it, but damn it was genius!

When the song was over the bar erupted into an applause which burst through him. They’d loved it. They really loved it.

“Thank ya’ll for that. I borrowed that song from a very talented song writer yesterday. I think he’ll do well with it.” Her accent had deepened when she spoke to the audience. Then she looked his way. “Everyone give it up for Warner Wright.”

The crowd applauded, but he was all too familiar with the quick whispers which accompanied his name.

Look, it’s the stepson of Patricia Little—the woman who ruined the OX.

The set continued and the spotlight again was back on Randy. But Warner’s eyes were on Clara. She just might be his ticket past the unwanted fame his stepmother brought him. Perhaps, she could help him with the career he’d worked so hard to build.

Clara was more than impressed with how the song turned out.
Love Song.
Oh, what Carrie Underwood could do to that song, she thought as she slipped her guitar into its case as the next act took the stage.

“You totally upstaged me, you know.” Randy gave her a light shove with his elbow.

“Excuse me.” She shoved back with a laugh. “This was your show. I borrowed one song.”

“And it was amazing.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

Randy growled. “Why thank you, Randy, for your kind compliment. Bless your heart,” he mimicked.

“Thank you,” she grunted back. “Maybe someone heard it—the right someone.”