Reagan looked like she was about to burst. “Yeah, they have a new song. And it’s called…‘Natalie’.”
“What? Why wouldn’t James text me first?” Natalie said again, a little louder this time. She scrambled for her purse and pulled out her phone, going to iTunes so she could look up the song.
“You know how he loves to gossip. He’s probably counting on me telling you. Oh yeah, James now says this: ‘Hmm, wonder who this song is about? And it’s a sexy one too.’ He wrote a freaking song about you, Nat!” Reagan said, her voice brimming with excitement. “I’m sure that has to mean something.”
Natalie found the song and stared at it, shock coursing through her. In black and white on the iTunes site, it said “Natalie” by Wilde & Wicked.
Holy. Crap.
She hit the play sample button, holding the phone up to her ear so she could hear it in the noisy din of the bar. The guitar was soft, the beat slow, and then she heard Noah’s voice croon direct in her ear, the familiar sound making her insides vibrate.
One night with you
Could never be enough
You’re the girl of my dreams
The girl with the right stuff
Natalie grinned. That was sort of cheesy in a New Kids on the Block way, but she…loved it.
If I could do it all over again I would
Never let you go
Oh Natalie, I made a mistake
You’re the only girl who could take
Ownership of my heart
And soul
Never let you go
Natalie
“You need to call him,” Reagan said when Natalie slowly set the phone on the table once the song sample was done. “Is there a message in the song?”
“Oh yeah,” Natalie said, trying to wrap her head around it all. He wrote a song about her. A song that would probably be played on the radio—about her. The nobody that supposedly didn’t matter.
Maybe she did matter. Far more than she thought.
“You going to call this Natalie girl and tell her how you really feel? Or are you expecting her to come running to you all because you wrote a song about her,” Rick said with a shake of his head. “That’s sort of an asshole thing for you to do, I must admit. And I’m on the biggest asshole on the planet, so…”
Noah stared at his older brother incredulously. Since when did he give him relationship advice? Both of them were anti-relationship, always had been. Until Noah finally couldn’t take it anymore and wrote the song for Natalie in about four hours’ time, brought it to the band and proclaimed it their next big hit.
He had a feeling he was going to be right. All thanks to a sweet, sexy woman named Natalie.
“I don’t expect her to come running,” Noah finally said. “I just…I don’t know quite how to approach her yet.” He felt like a jerk, not contacting her once since their weekend in Vegas together. He was a jerk. He knew it. Declan told him he was and so did Luke. So did his brother. Hell, so did Walt, his manager, who was pissed about him getting caught kissing Natalie in the middle of a busy Vegas sidewalk but then changed his tune when he read the “Natalie” lyrics.
Now Walt thought their relationship was great publicity for the band. Of course.
“Grow some balls and call her. Do something corny like sing the song on her voicemail. That ought to get her blood pumping,” Rick suggested.
Noah rolled his eyes. His brother was an idiot. “That’s cheesy.”
“No, writing a song for a chick you hardly know is cheesy, but I’m not protesting because it’s a fucking good song. Considering it’s in the top ten on iTunes, I think everyone else agrees with me.” Rick smiled. “I forgot to tell you—Walt called. He arranged for us to get on Jimmy Fallon.”