Leaving Amarillo(33)
When I turn around, knowing I’m flushed and mussed from his assault, I’m annoyed at how calm and collected he appears.
“Planning to seduce me, were you, Bluebird?” His half smile is infused with infuriating arrogance, but I’m still quivering so I’m in no position to be upset that he figured me out.
“Maybe,” I say, retrieving my bow from the bed and placing it alongside Oz in the case. “But I meant what I said about talking and being honest, too, Gav. I need . . .” I pull in a breath and he steps closer to me.
“I know what you need. I just don’t think I’m worthy of giving it to you.” All vestiges of his smug fa?ade have evaporated and he is that boy again. That fragile boy with a heart of glass.
“You are. I know that you are.” Reaching my fingertips up to his jaw, I stroke the stubble gently. “You always have been.”
“I have a condition,” he tells me. “Well, an additional one besides your brother never finding out.” His jaw flexes beneath the tension.
“Okay,” I say as I wait for him to reveal the restrictions he’s going to place on our one night together.
He swallows hard and rubs his nose against mine. “Don’t fall in love with me. It’s one night because that’s all I can give you. Sometimes women confuse really great sex with love. I can give you great sex. I have every intention of making it a night you’ll never forget. But love isn’t something I’m capable of and you of all people know why.”
His mom enters my mind immediately. She never loved him—or at least I never saw any evidence that she did. She never hugged or kissed him or held his hand. My heart clenches in my chest and a small piece breaks off inside me, the debris gathering in my throat.
Gavin doesn’t know how to love. And oh, oh, I want so badly to teach him. But I can see from the pained expression on his face that he doesn’t want that—not from me or from anyone.
“I promise I won’t fall in love with you just because we sleep together,” I assure him while gently raking my fingers through his hair.
Because I have been in love with you from the very first day we met.
Chapter 12
MANDY LANTRAM LOOKS LIKE A LONG-LOST KARDASHIAN SISTER. She’s got flawless mocha skin and raven hair that flows down to the middle of her back. Her navy blue dress fits like a second skin over her voluptuous figure and I feel like a little kid playing dress-up when she stands to greet us at dinner.
When we walk onto the back patio at a barbecue place overlooking Austin, Dallas introduces us in turn.
“Please, call me Mandy. It’s nice to meet you both,” she says, smiling warmly at Gavin and me. “As I told Dallas when we spoke yesterday after the show, the three of you have made quite a name for yourselves around the great state of Texas.”
I don’t miss the way her eyes linger on Gavin as he leans back in his chair.
“You could say that, I guess,” I interject. “We play mostly for free, though, so that doesn’t hurt.”
Everyone chuckles good-naturedly even though I was being completely serious.
“Well, I’d like to change that,” Mandy says with a pointed look at each of us. “I think you’re worth so much more than that.”
It feels so good to hear. Someone finally believes in us—someone with legitimate connections and knowledge of the industry. I want to hug the woman I hope will help my brother to see that this is where I belong instead of back in Houston.
Gavin surprises me by clearing his throat loudly. “Yeah, well, as you know, getting gigs isn’t the easiest thing in the world and we’re not the typical country trio. We play multiple genres and have been told by several managers that country radio isn’t ready for our sound.”
Part of me wants to kick him under the table.
But Mandy nods as if this is exactly what she expected him to say. “Yes, the fiddle and the R&B remixes are certainly unconventional.” She waits for one of us to interrupt but no one does. “That being said, I think it’s time for the three of you to make some hard and fast decisions. The reality is, you can play covers and revamped rap or bluegrass or both for all I care in festivals like this one. But when I get you into a showcase, you’ll have to streamline your sound. Play the songs that best represent what you’re capable of, the ones that sound a bit more like the hits topping the charts today.”
I don’t miss that she says when and not if I get you a showcase. Hope grows wild inside of me, unfurling in my chest and spreading like wildfire. I can practically see myself sprouting wings and flying right out of stringent music theory classes. A showcase would be huge. It would put us in front of managers and record labels. I know this because for years now Dallas has been saying how important they are for getting record deals.
“I think I speak for everyone when I say that we understand about sacrifice and compromise when it comes to this business,” Dallas says. “And we know that as we start out, we’ll have to do whatever it takes.”
“That being said,” Gavin interrupts bravely as I watch this conversation unfold. “We’re not going to pretend to be something we’re not. It won’t do us any good to get a deal based on something we aren’t capable of or happy doing.”
“The last thing I want is for you to be unhappy,” Mandy says. “Or unsatisfied. Music is very . . . personal. And I plan to make it my personal goal that you are very satisfied with everything we do together.”