Missing Dixie(30)

“I want you. Here,” I say, hearing the waver in my voice.

“Good. Because I want you, too.” He rests his forehead on mine. “Here,” he says, gently kissing me on the temple. “Here,” he breathes while brushing his lips down my jawline. “And a few other places not appropriate to place my mouth on in public. Unless you’re into that.”

My blood has turned to gasoline and Gavin Garrison has tossed a match on me.

“Gav,” I whisper, turning away shyly because we’re visible to the folks sitting at the front tables. “People can see us.”

One person specifically appears particularly disconcerted about our exchange. Jag’s normally handsome face is twisted into a mask of unadulterated disgust.

I shoot him a questioning “what the hell is your problem” glance and he looks away as if he can no longer stand the sight of me.

Surely he’s not jealous. He’s here on a date and anyone with eyes can see he’s enamored with Cassidy.

Men confound me and I’ve realized it’s because deep down, they’re mostly little boys in oversize bodies.

“Five minutes,” a guy calls out as he walks by. “Then you’re on.”

“That’s Cal, my boss,” Gavin says, nodding at the man’s retreating figure. “He’s kind of a dick but running a bar this size can be stressful. His bedside manner isn’t the greatest.”

“I bet. Maybe that’s what he’s got you for.”

“The only person seeing my bedside manner is you, baby.”

I roll my eyes to cover the effect his words have on me and I glance at the piano sitting in the corner. Taunting me. Daring me. Beckoning me. Musical instruments call to me in some strange way—as if they beg me to tame them. Gavin’s soul calls to me in a similar fashion—only his is a siren song promising unimaginable ecstasy at the price of utter and complete obliteration. “Guess I should get out there.”

I take a step forward and Gavin pulls me into the shadows. “Knock ’em dead, Bluebird. I’d say good luck but you don’t need it. You have so much more than luck when it comes to music.”

I lift my eyes to his penetrating gaze. “I want to believe that.”

“You will. One day. Promise.”

“Hope so.”

He nods like he was expecting this answer even though I can see the pain that flashes behind his eyes. “I’ll spend every day reminding you if you’ll let me.”

“That would mean spending every day with me, Gav. Which clearly you have no intention of doing anytime soon.”

“I’m trying, babe,” he says with sincerity. He winks at me and I try not to melt into a puddle in the floor. “A few weeks and I’ll be off probation and if the battle goes well, maybe we’ll be back on the road together soon. If you want that, that is.”

“Of course I want that. It’s just—”

A booming voice announces me onstage and there is a surprising amount of cheering from the audience. I start to turn my head in that direction but Gavin catches my jaw with a firm but gentle grip. “Have a great show, Bluebird.”

Without asking for permission, he lowers his mouth to mine and gives me a tender kiss full of unspoken promises.

“Don’t tease me, Garrison.”

“Never.” He kisses me gently again, then once on my nose and once on my forehead before squeezing me into a hug. “Not a tease, sweetness. A promise.”

I give myself a few seconds to enjoy the warmth of him, to indulge in the clean, male scent of him.

Reluctantly, I pull out of his arms and make my way to the stage.

Never in my life have I been so grateful for glaring, blinding stage lights. I can’t actually make out any faces in the crowd, which is probably for the best.

I introduce myself and am greeted with a surprising second round of cheers. Sitting down at the piano, I shake my head, because truthfully, I am not a solo act and I’ve never wanted to be one. Yet, here I am.

“Here goes nothing,” I mumble under my breath to myself.

My fingertips familiarize themselves with the keys, caressing them once before I launch into my first song.

And then . . .

Then I am lost.

And found.

Then I am free.





12 | Gavin

“WHERE IS HE? Where’s my baby?”

The first word that comes immediately to mind is No.

“Baby? Are you here?” A loud rapping sound comes from the bar and it’s almost loud enough to be heard over Dixie playing onstage. “Gavin Michael! Gavy-poo! Where are yooouu?”

I nearly knock over Jake the barback in an attempt to get around the bar and silence the woman calling for me in the singsong voice.

Cal steps in front of me before I get to her. “I don’t care who she is, just get her the hell out of here. Now.”

“On it. Um, I might have to leave to get her to—”

“Do whatever you need to. I can dock your pay for the rest of the night if needed. Cara and Jake can handle this crowd.”

Cara is an extremely capable bartender and her girlfriend Missy works security here so I know she’s got this. Jake has also proven himself lately and has even learned to make a few drinks and use the taps. Which is good, because I have a feeling I am not coming back to the Tavern this evening.