“That’s handy information, Miss Worth.”
She glanced up. “Please, call me Harper.”
“Harper,” he said, “it was a pleasure to meet you. Connor is clearly a lucky man.”
She smiled broadly at the compliment.
“I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again soon,” she offered.
The words gave him hope. Whatever Rory had or hadn’t shared with her future sister-in-law, he seemed to have Harper’s stamp of approval—at least to attempt winning Rory back.
He considered the freesias in his hand. Rory had never been much of the chocolate-and-flowers type. Showing up with them might only make it look as though he didn’t know her anymore.
But he did. He still knew her.
He held the flowers toward Harper.
“Why don’t you take these? My way of saying thanks for all your help.”
Harper looked as though she might protest, but he pushed them into her arms before she could say anything.
“Well, thank you.” She eyed him. “And if you don’t mind me saying so...good luck.”
He nodded.
Where Rory was concerned, he’d take all the luck he could get.
* * *
RORY SAT AT the coffee-shop counter, a half-finished glass of iced tea in front of her, and waited anxiously to take the stage. The Lighthouse Café was always busy on Friday nights, but this evening it was particularly packed. Every table, from one end of the room to the other, was filled with patrons. The sofas and love seats along the walls overflowed with customers of all ages, from teens to people in their thirties and forties, and even a couple she swore had to be approaching their eighties.
The crowd didn’t really bother her. Performing to ten was the same as performing to two hundred. Once she was onstage, she always experienced a rush of self-confidence. But something about tonight had her tied up in knots, and it had nothing to do with the audience.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Sawyer. She wondered if he’d stopped by the restaurant, like she’d told him to. The thought made her squirm with guilt. As much as Sawyer deserved a little payback, she didn’t really feel right about what she’d done. She wasn’t the vengeful type, and she’d never stood a guy up before. Then again, the only guy she’d ever really dated was Sawyer, unless she counted Bobby Hughes in fifth grade and that one guy she’d gone to dinner with last year. But a stolen kiss on the playground and a boring evening out didn’t come close to what she’d had with Sawyer. Still, she’d never been so coy before as to lead someone on.
Even if he was six feet tall with eyes that could turn her into a puddle with one look. She shook her head and took a swig of iced tea. Nope, don’t go there, Rory. Sawyer may have come back to town talking big about apologies, but it didn’t mean they’d pick up where they’d left off. How could they? They were different people now. Especially him.
“Rory, you all set?”
She shook off her reverie as Dave Ridgley addressed her from behind the counter. He was the owner of the café and hosted most of the Friday night performances. He’d been the one to approach Rory about playing at the Lighthouse. He’d seen her perform at the annual 4th of July celebration in town last year and asked if she’d be interested in a weekly gig at his newly established coffee shop in town. At first, she’d been hesitant. She hadn’t been doing much with her music since she and Sawyer split. But the invitation niggled at her until she agreed to a trial run, of sorts. Within the first month, not only did she have a solid following of friends and acquaintances coming to see her perform, but she also became hooked on the opportunity to play her music on a weekly basis. And over the last year, she’d gained quite a few fans who made the effort to come out every Friday and hear her sing. It was encouraging, and a boost to her ego, to realize she had enough talent on her own, without Sawyer, that people wanted to hear her music.
“Ready when you are, Dave,” she said and stood to follow him.
They stepped onto the stage together, and Rory grabbed her guitar from its stand as Dave tapped the mic. A few conversations continued, but most of the crowd turned their attention to the platform.
“Looks like we’ve got a full house tonight,” Dave began. “I’m guessing it’s not because you came to hear me sing.”
There were a few chuckles, and one guy near the front let out a heartfelt “boo.”
“All right, Jeremy, you’ve obviously had too much caffeine already. I’m cutting you off. No more espresso shots.”
More laughter rippled around the room, and Rory had to grin. It was soothing to be in such a familiar atmosphere. She’d spent most of her life playing one show after another in a line of bars, lounges, community events and weddings. There were a few places she and Sawyer would frequent, but it wasn’t like this. Playing in her hometown, week after week, gave her a sense of comfort and belonging.
“Well, if you’re not here for me, then maybe you all came out for this lovely lady.” Dave gestured in her direction, and the café erupted in cheers and applause. Rory was hard pressed not to blush at the enthusiastic response.
“I think that’s a yes,” Dave concluded. “Then let’s get this show on the road. Rory, you’re up.”
More cheering ensued as Rory stepped to the microphone, adjusting her guitar strap around her waist.
“Now that’s what I call a proper welcome,” she said into the mic. Jeremy let out a wolf whistle. “You really have had too much caffeine, haven’t you, Jeremy?”
He laughed, and the others in his vicinity joined him. Rory strummed her guitar, listening to make sure it was in tune. She made a minor adjustment and checked again.
Perfect.
“You’ve all been patient with me these last few months while I worked on some new songs. Well, tonight, your patience will be rewarded. I have something new for you.”
She waited while they clapped with excitement.
“I take it you’re ready to hear it?”
More cheers.
“Okay then.” She drew a breath and strummed a few notes before launching into the song.
I can’t help what I feel,
But I know that wounds heal.
And time is all it takes,
But right now it’s heartbreak...
Though she’d told herself she wasn’t going to think of Sawyer as she sang, her mind couldn’t help drifting to him. He was the inspiration for the lyrics, after all.
I’ve fallen in love with you,
And now I’m bleeding and bruised.
’Cause I let down my guard,
And I fell pretty hard...
The audience was rapt. She sensed it as well as saw it when her gaze swept the room. A few couples were wrapped in each other’s arms, and several others swayed to the music. A pair of teenagers even got up and started dancing. She was glad to see it was being received so well. It wasn’t exactly a happy song, but it had come from her heart—from the deepest part of her injured pride and wounded spirit.
She launched into the bridge and caught a few people brushing tears from their eyes. She kept going, into the final round of the chorus.
What else can I do?
I’ve fallen in love with you.
She strummed the final notes on her guitar