There’s nothing I won’t do, we’ll take right to the ledge
Take my hand, pretty lady, we’re living on the edge
It’s not normally my thing, but my foot is tapping anyway, and I’m genuinely enjoying seeing the man I’ve been getting to know—doing what he does.
It’s exciting.
Sexy.
“How do you know Tate Jeffries?” Tanya, who works at the front desk, asks me as the song comes to an end and everyone starts to clap.
“Uh, we met at the diner,” I reply.
Her eyes widen. “Oh my God—you’re dating Tate Jeffries? Is he just as dreamy in bed as he is performing?”
Heat floods my face but I’m spared from having to answer as I feel a hand on my arm.
“Why didn’t you tell me we were having a concert?” Mom asks indignantly.
“What are you doing here?” I counter. “I thought you were going to take a nap.”
“She heard the music,” her nurse says with a smile. “You know how she loves rock.”
That’s true—Mom always loved rock music. I’ve always been a disappointment to her when it comes to my musical tastes. Luckily, we both love Waylon Jennings.
Tate plays another song I don’t recognize, and then he looks to me before he breaks into “Loving Her.”
“Your favorite song,” Mom murmurs, leaning against me.
I slide my arm around her waist and we join the others in singing along.
And by the time he’s done, I’m half in love with him.
The residents appear to be as well, because they clap and cheer like he’s playing at the Meadowlands or something. And he just smiles, puts the guitar in the corner, gets up and walks right over to me.
“Hey. Mom doing okay?”
“Tate, this is my mother, Tricia. Mom, this is?—”
“Tate Jeffries!” I haven’t heard my mother be this excited—or lucid—in a long time. “Summer, why didn’t you tell me you were dating Tate Jeffries?”
“Well, I?—”
“It’s new,” Tate says easily, giving my mom a hug. “And I’m really glad to meet you.”
“I love your music,” Mom gushes like a teenage girl, her eyes bright, twinkling with delight. “I think the new single is awesome.”
“’Rough Around the Edges’?” Tate asks.
Mom frowns. “No—‘Touch You.’ Isn’t that the new one?”
Tate looks surprised. “Yes, it is. I just didn’t realize you’d heard it. It’s not on the album.”
“I listen whenever I can!” Mom rambles on about the album, songs I know nothing about, and even tells him about the last time she saw Nickelback live—right before I graduated from college.
“Can we take a picture?” Mom asks me. “Do you have your camera?”
“Oh. No.” I shake my head. “But I can take it with my phone.”
