Page 133 of We Drank the Dawn

She giggled at my shock. “No, I’m not.”

“Bea, that’s amazing.”

“Thank you. It’s been exciting.”

“Wait.” I shook my head, suddenly concerned I didn’t have the whole story. “You produced it yourself, right? I didn’t miss some label announcement, did I?”

“No, you didn’t. I just recorded it in my studio, self-published it, and put some videos on my social media channels.”

“Sounds like it took off.”

“A little,” she said.

“She’s bein’ modest.” Tag said, a note of pride in his tone. “She’s had almost two million streams, agents reachin’ out, and fans askin’ for more. And all of this has happened in only the last few months.”

I puffed out a disbelieving breath. “Why the sudden uptick?”

Tag and Bea shared a knowing laugh and I heard a foot shift under the table like one of them nudged the other.

Tag teased her. “Go on. Tell him.”

“Me admitting it will go straight to your head.”

He gave a soft, smitten laugh. “It’s already gone to my head, darlin’.”

“Fine.” Conceding, she took a deep breath and said, “I have to lay my pride down to say it, but I produced a country song. That’s what changed things.”

I laughed, understanding their exchange now. Bea had always hated country music. Then she moved to Texas where she was surrounded by it, and judging by the music I heard coming from Tag’s truck, her husband preferred country stations and probably inspired her experiment with the new genre.

“Tag has always said I’d have a pretty country style if I just tried it. So, I finally did. And he was right. I released one single and now everyone wants an album.”

“Is this the one you sang at the open mic?” I asked.

“A Kiss Like Molasses, yes.”

I smiled at her. “So, is an album on the horizon?”

Tag and Bea gave contradicting answers at the same time.

Tag said yes.

Bea said no.

I chuckled at that.

Bea was the first to speak again. “I don’t have the time to dedicate to an entire album and I’m okay with that.”

“We’ll make time, Bea.” Tag directed his voice at me then. “She’s too gifted to keep music relegated to a hobby. I’m sure you’re with me.”

I gave a single nod. “Absolutely.”

“Thank you,” Tag said, feeling justified. “See? Peter agrees.”

“Also, once the bed and breakfast is closed down, you’ll have plenty of time on the road to write and play your guitar.” I pointed out.

“I’ve made this point a thousand times. She won’t hear it.” Tag tsked. “Even if she never made a penny, she needs to do what she’s wired to do.”

“She comes alive, doesn’t she?” I asked him, a smirk tugging into my cheeks because I had no doubt I was annoying Bea by so thoroughly siding against her.