to take some time and see the world.”
“See the world?”
“Yeah. Take a year off of school. See the world. Put my life into perspective and then come back, graduate, and take my seat at BBH.”
“What does your dad think about this?”
Tyler bit down on his lip. “He’s not crazy about the idea. But to be honest, I think Spencer has a better head for business.”
Clara moved in and wrapped her arms around him and gave him a squeeze. “Perhaps you do need to find yourself. But don’t forget where you came from and who your family is. We all love you.”
“If I wasn’t half Keller I don’t think I could do this and know it would be okay.”
She knew well enough that statement was true.
Clara stepped back. “Well, I’m beat and I have auditions tomorrow and a show on Friday. I’m heading to bed.”
“So that guy, the one who wants you to sing his song…”
She turned back toward Tyler. “Yeah, what about him?”
“His mom is Patricia Little?”
“Ex-stepmother.”
Tyler nodded. “Is he a good guy?”
She smiled. “The best.”
“Good. I don’t want to come back from seeing the world and have to beat the crap out of some loser.”
She shook her head. “Yep, I have two brothers and two cousins who would kill the first man to break my heart.”
“You know it.”
“I’m a lucky girl.” She gave them a wave and headed up the stairs. Something told her Warner Wright wasn’t a threat.
Patricia Little on the other hand—what could she do to Clara if she hated Warner so much?
Warner was restless. He’d tried to go to bed. He’d tried warm milk. Nothing was working. Clara Keller had him stirred up.
He turned on the small lamp on the end table in his rink-a-dink apartment and sat down at his electronic piano keyboard. Warner wasn’t a bad neighbor, so he plugged in his headphones and set his fingers on the keys.
A melody formed. He closed his eyes and played. This was Clara Keller’s melody. It fit her. It was smooth and easy, but there was an underlying contrast of sharpness to her. She didn’t take crap and she didn’t dish it out. She cared, deeply cared about people and family. And damn if she didn’t carry herself with more grace than a princess when wearing jeans and cowboy boots.
She was tattooed, but he assumed just the one. She was brass and not mad. She was his fate.
The notes took a sour turn at that point and he tore off the headphones.
Record the demo.
Sell the songs.
Get the career he’d been working so hard for.
That was it. The list was short and sweet. Adding feelings for a woman were not part of the plan.
He looked at his watch. Three-fifteen in the freaking morning and he was wide awake and stirred up. Lord help him. It was going to be a long night.
***
Clara was sitting on the front steps of the theater talking on her cell phone when Warner parked his truck. She must have been having quite a conversation too, because her hands were in her hair, her head was down, and she didn’t see him until he’d walked up on her.
She gave him a nod to acknowledge him and then looked back down.
Warner turned so it wouldn’t appear as though he were just listening in.
“I have shows all weekend. It’s closing weekend,” she said. “I don’t know how I’m going to squeeze that in…Yeah, I know it’s great. I didn’t ask for this did I?” She blew out a breath. “I know…I know. Okay, I’ll talk to him and I’ll get back to you.”
Warner turned around as Clara stood, the phone still pressed to her ear. “Randy, I’ll make it work. Just book it and I’ll be there.”
With her final words she pushed the end button to finish the phone call.
“Sorry,” she said on a sigh and then took a step toward him.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” His breath was thick in his lungs as she neared him. “Everything okay?”
“Never better, actually. We’ll talk about it later.” She stepped up to him and pressed a kiss to his lips.
He