She gave him a come-on-now look. “Because only, like, the tiniest percentage of people can actually make that their job and because my parents were not going to be on board with something so flighty. My mom was a journalism professor and came from a family of doctors and lawyers. My dad is military and very old school about getting a job with a steady paycheck and benefits. I was supposed to get a scholarship, go to a good school, and get a well-respected, well-paying job. End of story.”
“So you did.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t going to, though they’ll never know. I was feeling pretty rebellious by the end of high school. I was secretly applying to schools that focused on the arts. I was going to move to New York and just deal with the fallout. But after we lost Nia, it all seemed really silly and dumb. Selfish, you know? And I for sure couldn’t leave town.”
He frowned.
“Plus, I didn’t want to write or sing anymore anyway. What was there to sing about? I was devastated and angry and needed action. Going into research made sense. It gave me an outlet for all that emotion. It was the right decision.” She said it with such fervor that it sounded as if she was trying to convince him even though he hadn’t passed judgment.
He pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed their joined knuckles, a lock of hair falling over his eyes. “The world will be a better place because of your research. That’s something to be proud of.”
Her breath sagged out of her. “Yeah. It is. If I can get anyone to listen to me.”
They walked a few more steps in silence. She thought the subject was done, but then Shaw spoke again, casually. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t let yourself indulge the other side of your personality sometimes.”
She’d been lost in her thoughts, and it took a second for her to catch what he’d said. “The other side?”
They came to a corner with a crosswalk, and he pressed the button for the walk sign before turning to her and tucking his hair behind his ear. “I heard you sing, Taryn. You have a fantastic voice, and you were…I don’t know, captivating onstage. I couldn’t stop watching you. The way you sang that song made me… It made me feel shit because I could tell you were feeling it. It made me want to follow you out and talk to you.” He gave her a wry look. “I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
Her skin felt too warm, the compliments both pleasing her and making her feel awkward. “Thank you, but that was just one random incident. I sang it with all that emotion because a memory of my sister hit me while I was up there. Which also made me panic and run off the stage, so not exactly a stellar performance.”
The walk light blinked, and he tugged her hand, leading her across the street. “I think you should sing anyway. You don’t have to make it your job, but it doesn’t hurt to feed that side of yourself, too.”
She frowned. “Shaw—”
“I know I’m the last person anyone should be taking life advice from, but I can tell you that when I stopped gymnastics, when I let that part of me slip away, it was bad. I had this hole I kept trying to fill…with drinking, with anger, with a bad relationship. You can’t just shut down a big part of who you are without consequences.” He turned to her when they reached the curb. “Starting the gym, being back in that environment, even in an anonymous way, has made a huge difference. No, I’m not training for the Olympics anymore. That ship has sailed, been lit on fire, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean. But I can still do gymnastics. I can train other people on how to push themselves physically. I can tap into that vein of who I used to be even if I can’t actually be him.” He glanced past her. “You could do that, too. On the side. Write songs. Sing. Just for yourself. Just because it feels good.”
Taryn stared at him, hearing the fervor in his tone, appreciating the concern, but he didn’t understand. He’d seen what happened. “I can’t.”
“You can.” He guided her along the sidewalk, walking backward in front of her, a devilish, almost boyish look in his eye. “Taryn Landry, I dare you.”
He stopped on the sidewalk so suddenly that she almost stumbled into him, but when she heard the music and turned her head, she already knew what she’d see. The Tipsy Hound. She groaned. “You have got to be kidding me. You did not just set a trap. On our first date, no less.”
He laughed and lifted his palms. “I did no such thing. I was leading us toward my place because my car is there. I was going to drive you back to the gym. But I’m not ready for tonight to be over yet, and if I take you to my place, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep our agreement to take things slow because”—he pointed to his chest—“depraved. So here’s the perfect solution. One more drink. And a song.”
“This is not…” Taryn was about to protest some more, to shut this down, but then her eyes landed on the little chalkboard announcing tonight’s theme. She read the title twice. Oh, hell yes. She bit her lip so she wouldn’t smile and give herself away. She schooled her expression into one of haughty confidence. “Fine. You win.”
His eyebrows arched. “Really?”
“If”—she raised a finger—“you agree to help me out if I need it.”
He smiled. “Of course. If you get freaked out again, I’ll be right there to get you off the stage. But I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
He wasn’t getting her point. Good. She grabbed his hand, keeping his back to the sign. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”
Shaw followed her into the dark interior, and the scent of the place—beer and barbecue potato chips—was becoming oddly familiar to her, something she maybe should be worried about. No one was onstage yet, and music from an old jukebox was playing. Shaw grabbed a table and ordered drinks for both of them. Taryn went off in search of Kaleb. When she found him, his face brightened. “Hey, you’re becoming a regular.”
“Seems so,” she said. “Good chips.”
“Family recipe. You gonna sing?” he asked. “It’s only karaoke tonight, but we’re trying out a new theme. You’ll need—”
“Yeah, I know. I saw. I thought it’d be fun. But I was wondering if you could help me with something first…”
Kaleb didn’t hesitate. “Sure, what’d you have in mind?”
A few minutes later, Taryn returned to the table to find Shaw sipping his beer, the bowl of potato chips half-empty. He looked up. “All set?”
“Yep.” She revealed what she’d been holding behind her back and plopped the cowboy hat on his head. “We’re all set.”