Leaving Amarillo(12)
“Mm-hm. Sure you were.” My lips twitch and I’m about to remind him about the ice cream when the waitress returns.
“Y’all ready?”
Gavin gives her that freaking grin again. The one he never gives to me. “Yeah, darlin’. We’re ready.” He orders our pasta and hands her the menus. Once again my stomach tenses and turns.
“Put the claws away, baby. Let’s just enjoy our dinner.”
My face has betrayed me by putting my emotions on display. I contort it into a smile that he can probably tell is forced.
“I’ll try. It’d help if you’d stop eye-f*cking the waitress.”
Both of his brows go up in surprise. His intrigued gaze drops to my mouth and I’m reminded of what he said about dirty words and clean mouths. I roll my lower lip between my teeth and lean forward.
“Gavin,” I say, drawing his attention back to my eyes. “I’m not trying to piss you off. But we do need to talk. Soon.”
“No,” he says evenly, his eyes latching on to mine. “We don’t.”
“We’re in a band together. We’re about to spend a week practically living together. You can’t just pretend there’s nothing going on, that you don’t feel it. I know that you do.”
The tension rolls off him and crashes into me with the same kind of force he beats the hell out of his drums with. I know I’m pushing it, but if we don’t at least acknowledge that there is something between us, then I am going to implode. And when I do, it won’t be pretty. I’m afraid it will ruin everything. Ruin us, the band, everything good in my life—in all three of our lives. Maybe Gavin’s content floating along in the river of denial, but I’m drowning in it.
He tilts his head from side to side, stretching his neck and then sighing. “Look, I’m a guy, and you’re a girl, and yeah, there are moments when . . .” Gavin glances around as if there might be secret spies hired by my brother listening in on our conversation. “When things get a little intense,” he finishes.
A little intense?
More like there are moments when I want to tear his clothes from his body and trace his intricate tattoos with my tongue. Moments I foresee coming this very week in which I will have to clutch my bedsheets with both hands to keep from reaching out for him in the middle of the night. Moments when I’m so overcome with a painful need I know only he can soothe that I might accidentally on purpose ravage him without bothering to care who’s around.
A little intense is a gross understatement.
“And,” I prompt.
He gives me a slight shake of his head. “And nothing. There’s nothing we can do about it. Do I think you’re beautiful? Of course I do. I have eyes. Every guy in this room is wishing he was me right now. But we’re more than that. You and Dallas are all I have. Do you get that? Do you know what would happen if we . . . if we . . .” Another shake of his head and his gaze clouds over. “So do us all a favor and drop it. Okay?”
My head and heart are reeling from his admission. He thinks I’m beautiful, he’s attracted to me, but he wants me to drop it because I mean too much to him. The waitress, on the other hand, apparently means just enough to him.
She returns with our food and lingers beside Gavin. After she sets our steaming plates in front of us she turns to him and slips the black leather padfolio into his hand. I suspect it contains more than just the check. I watch helplessly as their eyes meet.
“If you decide you want dessert,” she says to him, her tone deepening and dripping with suggestion on the last word, “let me know and I’ll take care of it for you.”
I look down at my plate of pesto, suddenly not hungry at all. Gavin catches her wrist, and my heart leaps into my head and hammers out its anger inside my skull. Without even a glance in my direction, he pulls her to him and whispers something in her ear. She smiles and nods before walking away.
My feelings for Gavin have always been uncontrollable and pretty much impossible to identify by name or articulate. But right now, I hate him. I freaking hate him with every fiber of my being. My hands are trembling and I’m in danger of being blinded by rage.
Sucking in a breath as my vision blurs behind a red haze, I shake my head at him.
“You know,” I begin on a shaky breath, “it’s one thing if you don’t want me. Or if you just don’t want me enough to risk it. I can probably live with that. But watching you parade your conquests in front of me is too much. Even for me.”
Gavin doesn’t say a word as I stand and storm away from our table.
I just made a humiliating scene in front of the one person I’ve worked so hard to keep my cool in front of. But if I don’t escape to the safety of the ladies’ room in the next five seconds, I’m going to make an even bigger one.
Chapter 5
“OH, DON’T WORRY,” I OVERHEAR THE WAITRESS TELLING SOMEONE on the phone as soon as I step into the ladies’ room. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes. We’ll be in the VIP for sure.” She laughs and I glare openly at her as she makes a crass joke about taking one for the team. “Hey, Stace, I’ll call you back when I get off, okay?” Another harsh laugh and a pointed smirk at me. “Well, after I get off Gavin Garrison that is.”
Her casual use of his name provokes a murderous rage inside of me. Her confident grin tells me she knows this. The lyrics to “Jolene” begin playing on a steady loop in my mind.