Page 25 of Bewitched By the Siren (The Bewitching Hour #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Brendan

Emotion unfurls in my chest, some strange combination of pride and happiness and certainty and determination.

I knew if I could get Hali here and offer her a session in Natasha’s private recording studio and convince her to make use of it, she’d finally see––or hear, rather––what the rest of us already know.

That she’s a bright star who deserves to be recognized as such.

That she deserves to share her talent with the world.

I can’t stop smiling as I watch her pull a hair tie from her wrist and muscle her long tresses up into a messy bun. Then, her eyes skating toward me with uncertainty, she unclasps the shell necklace she always wears and stuffs it into her pocket.

Weird.

But then again, she’s an artist, and most artists have quirks and superstitions the rest of us don’t understand.

She offers me a shaky smile, then steps into the recording booth before pulling the door closed behind her.

I watch through the glass as she picks up an acoustic guitar from a stand in the corner, pulls the strap over her head and shoulder, and begins plucking out a simple melody.

“I didn’t know she could play the guitar,” I breathe to myself, but Natasha hears me.

“Most songwriters can,” she says. “Well, either that or piano.”

We watch as Hali moves toward the microphone, lowering its height and pulling a stool over so she can sit. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then looks at me through the glass before turning her attention to Natasha and nodding.

“Okay, Hali,” Natasha says, her mouth close to a small microphone, “this is just for you, so don’t worry if you make a mistake or want to start again. And try to have fun.”

Hali nods, her face tight with nerves, then the sound of her clearing her throat echoes through the speakers. Natasha hits a button and points at Hali through the glass, and my little songbird takes another deep breath, faces the microphone, and starts to play.

The tune is one I haven’t heard before, so it must be one of her originals.

Her eyes drift closed as she plays a few bars, and when the intro comes to a natural end, she opens her mouth and starts to sing.

I’m swept up in the same feeling I had in that crowded bar last weekend as her beautiful voice curls around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.

I feel tingly all over, my muscles ticking with the need to go to her. To stride into that small booth and pull her into my arms. To hold her tightly and never let go.

“Holy shit,” Natasha murmurs, drawing out the syllables.

Somehow, I pull my gaze away from Hali to meet Natasha’s eyes. “I know, right?”

We both fall silent then, letting the magic of Hali’s sweet voice hypnotize us until the final strain of music dies away. When neither of us moves or speaks, Hali swallows thickly and clears her throat.

“Was that okay?” echoes through the speakers, and just like when she sang, my heartrate flutters, an invisible string pulling me toward her.

“That was perfect, Hali. Do you have anymore songs? I figured we could record three, and then we could have some lunch in here while I clean up the tracks and save them to a thumb drive for you,” Natasha says through her own microphone.

“Sounds good,” Hali says, her eyes darting toward me.

At her questioning gaze, I shoot her an encouraging smile and say, “Sounds perfect.”

Natasha and I watch as Hali sings two more songs, each one more emotion-evoking than the last. By the time she finishes, Natasha and I are just left there, staring at each other in awe. She tells Hali we got what we needed then flips the microphone off before meeting my gaze.

“She’s seriously good. I can see why you want to sign her so badly,” she whispers.

“I do,” I say, then press my lips together before adding, “but today wasn’t really about that. It was about showing Hali what she’s capable of. Even if she doesn’t sign with me, I want her to know just how amazing she is.”

Natasha nods, but before she can respond, Hali pushes through the door to join us, her fingers already clasping the golden chain and shell pendant around her neck. Natasha moves toward her, pulls her into her arms, and gives her a tight hug.

“That was amazing,” Natasha says as she releases Hali. “You’re an extremely talented artist, Hali Weston.”

“Thank you,” Hali murmurs, her cheeks tinged with pink.

There’s a knock on the door, and when Natasha calls out, an older woman walks in bearing a tray piled with sandwiches and bowls of chips. Natasha smiles at her as she sets the tray down on a table in the corner.

“Thank you, Helene. Hali, Brendan, this is Helene, my grandmother.” Before either of us can say a word, she adds, “She insists I call her by her name because she’s too young to be a granny, and she refuses to accept that I can make my own meals.”

“That’s right,” the gray-haired woman says with a warm smile. “I take care of the ones I love. And I’m definitely too young to be a grandmother.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and shakes her head, then moves toward Helene to give her a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. Helene shoos her away, then straightens the hem of her blouse and pats her hair before leaving the room.

“She can’t live alone, anymore. Bad hip,” Natasha says, grabbing a sandwich from the platter and setting it on one of the plates Helene provided.

“My parents are gone, and she’s the only family I have left, so I forced her to move in with me.

Even though she put up a fight, I could see it’s what she wanted.

And despite my assurances, she feels like she has to earn her keep, or something. It’s so frustrating.”

I glance over at Hali, who’s staring thoughtfully at the closed door through which Helene left. Seeing the parallels between her situation and Natasha’s, I address Natasha while filling plates for both Hali and me.

“So, she lives here with you full time? What about when you go on tour?”

“She comes with me,” Natasha says with a heartfelt smile.

“I have it in my contract that I record all my albums here and will only tour four months out of every calendar year with breaks in between. We fly from location to location and stay in the best hotels. Helene loves it, and the touring schedule isn’t too grueling for her. ”

I look over at Hali, who still appears to be deep in thought.

I let the subject drop, not wanting to pressure her, and we have a pleasant lunch while Natasha cuts the songs and downloads them onto a thumb drive for Hali.

Handing it over, she turns back to her equipment and deletes all the files while Hali watches.

“Thank you for this,” Hali says, squeezing the plastic and metal device in her fist. “It’s been…amazing.”

“You’re welcome,” Natasha replies with a warm smile. “You can come back, anytime. Even if it’s just to hang out.”

“Thank you,” Hali says, returning her grin.

“Thank you,” I mouth to Natasha over Hali’s head, and she gives me a small nod.

After we say our goodbyes and get on the road toward Circe Key, my nerves ramp up as the minutes tick by and Hali doesn’t say a word. Shifting in my seat, I clear my throat and hold out a hand.

“Can I have that thumb drive? I’d love to listen to it.”

“Oh. Um. Sure,” she says, her words choppy and broken as she digs the device out of her pocket.

She drops it into my palm, and I glance at her for a beat before plugging it into the car’s USB port.

She looks a bit green, and I chalk it up to nerves over hearing herself sing.

I look back at the road as the guitar starts to play, and when her voice comes in, that feeling of euphoria I felt earlier returns, only slightly diminished from the effect it had on me when I heard her live and in person.

I glance back at Hali, and she’s staring at the car’s stereo with wide eyes. As if she feels my eyes on her, she looks over at me.

“Is that really me?” she asks, her voice laced with wonder.

“Is this the first time you’ve heard a recording of yourself?” I ask.

Her head wobbles, then she huffs out a breath, saying, “It’s the first time I’ve ever been recorded.”

“Oh. Wow,” I say, then swallow thickly. “I just want you to know, Hali, this trip today had nothing to do with me or my desire to sign you as a client. This was all for you. I wanted you to see how Natasha lives her life. To see that it’s possible to chase your dreams on your own terms. If you were to sign with me or anyone else, your agent would be the one working for you, not the other way around.

You’d be in control of your recording schedule, your travel, and your tours.

You could arrange things so you’d never have to leave your mom behind. ”

Reaching down, I pop the thumb drive out and hand it back to her. She takes it with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, then looks away as she stuffs it back into her pocket.

Shit. Did this completely backfire?

Reaching over, I take her hand and lace our fingers together.

She doesn’t pull away, and I give her hand a squeeze before refocusing on the road.

I hold her hand all the way home, and neither of us speaks again.

The vibe is weird, and I just pray it’s because Hali is thinking about the possibilities I’ve shown her and hasn’t decided to carve me out of her life, completely.

When I pull up to the curb in front of my rental, I kill the engine and turn in my seat to face Hali, saying, “Listen, I’m sorry if I overstepped today.

I really was just trying to give you a fun day and show you how amazing you are.

You should’ve seen Natasha when you started singing. She was practically hypnotized.”

Hali inhales sharply, then tries to cover it with a laugh.

“I’m sure Natasha Monk was hypnotized by me ,” she says with a heavy dose of sarcasm and disbelief.

“She was. Just like everyone else is who hears you.”

She curls into herself like someone sucker punched her right in the gut. Shit . What did I say? I feel like I’m messing this up, completely.

“Again,” I say, “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I had no ulterior motives today. I promise.”

Her expression brightens the tiniest bit, and she says, “I believe you,” before leaning in to press her lips to mine.

Relief floods through me, and I kiss her back for several beats before she pulls away. Squeezing the hand still holding hers, she disentangles our fingers and unbuckles her seatbelt.

“I have to go. I should really check on Mom,” she says, popping open her door.

“Okay,” I say, offering her a hopeful smile. “See you later?”

“Definitely,” she says, then climbs from the car and closes her door.

I watch her through the window as she walks away, and I can’t banish the worry gnawing in my gut.

Something is bothering her. I don’t know if it’s me, if I really did go too far with today’s surprise, or if she’s just overwhelmed, meeting one of her idols and making her first audio recording of herself performing.

I really, really hope it’s the latter. I don’t want anything to drive a wedge between us when we already have so little time together, as it is.

My insides clench when I think about how much time I have left. It’s Thursday, which means tomorrow, I’m expected to record Hali performing without her knowledge or consent for Julius. Just the thought of doing that makes me want to puke.

I don’t know if I can do it.

I know I shouldn’t .

But if I don’t, what does that mean for me? My life? My career?

And if I do, what does it mean for Hali and me?

Either way, this thing between us is going to end soon. It can end amicably between us, but I’ll most likely be out of a job. Or it can end contentiously, with my betrayal of her trust, and though she would never sign with me, Julius would be mollified by my effort.

I just have to decide which version of events I can live with. And I have a feeling that decision won’t be nearly as hard as I thought it would be.