Star Bagel is always busy, so we stand in line to place our order. Once that is done, we take our number and look around for a place to sit. As he leads us to the back of the room, I overhear people whispering his name, pointing at him, and taking out their phones to snap pictures. By the time we find an empty table for us to take, I’m nervous for a completely different reason.
“Is it always like this?” I ask, nodding toward two girls standing outside the window, holding their phones to the glass to get a photo of him.
“Not all the time,” he replies, and I raise a brow, not believing him. “I try to ignore it or pretend they’re admiring some painting on the wall.” He looks up, his eyes focusing on whatever is above my left shoulder, and his lips start to twitch. “The masterpiece that is behind you is priceless. I can see why everyone wants to take a photo of it.”
I turn around to find a black-and-white portrait of a bulldog with a half-eaten bagel hanging out of his mouth. The photo is so ridiculous we both burst out laughing.
“In fact, I think I need a photo of it.” He swiftly takes out his phone, and before I can protest, he’s snapping a photo of me with the portrait.
“Beautiful,” he says, not even bothering to look down at the picture he just took. I feel my cheeks getting warm again, so I distract myself by taking a sip of water.
“So, tell me all about Aly,” he says in a soothing but commanding voice. He sets his forearms on the table and leans forward, his expression attentive as he waits for me to respond.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“Well,” I start, clearing my throat before continuing. “Here’s the Cliff’s notes, since our time this morning is limited. I was born and raised here in Nashville, graduated from Belmont University, and I currently work at Big Little Music as an A&R assistant.”
“That explains why you were at the Bluebird last night,” he says with a grin right as the waitress is delivering our food and coffee. “I can’t believe you’re a native Nashvillian. You guys are becoming like unicorns.”
I giggle at his statement, because he’s right; this town is booming with transplants and now you can’t assume anyone is from here anymore. “Yup, my sister and I are third generation born and raised here. She was the one with me last night.”
“The blonde?” he asks with a look of doubt on his face. “You guys don’t look anything alike.”
“I know,” I say with a laugh. “She looks like our dad and I look like our mom.”
“Do you have any other siblings?”
I shake my head before answering. “Just us girls.”
“I bet you two have your dad wrapped around your pinky fingers.”
My smile falters at his words, because I wish that were the case, but it isn’t. No matter how hard I try to hide it, he notices the shift right away. Seeing the concern in his eyes, I decide to give him a small explanation.
“We’re closer to our mom than our father. He works a lot and doesn’t make himself available to spend time with us.” Acknowledging this out loud stings, but I learned a long time ago to not let my father’s lack of affection bother me. While I love my father because of who he is, I don’t have much respect for how he treats us, especially my sister. I just wish Valerie would go to counseling and learn how to handle it better. She’s affected the most by his aloofness toward us.
Understanding replaces his concern and he reaches across the table to grab my hand. “It’s his loss, Aly. You understand that, don’t you? It’s his loss, not yours.” He gently squeezes my fingers in encouragement and graces me with a soft smile. The sincerity in his eyes almost has me undone. This man seems to be too good to be true.
Am I still dreaming? I squeeze his hand back to make sure he’s not a figment of my imagination and give him an appreciative smile. I loosen my grip as a signal for him to let go of my hand, but instead, he holds onto it.
“Enough about me,” I say, wanting to take the attention off me and move it to him. “It’s your turn now to tell me everything about you.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you already know about me and I’ll fill in the rest.” He raises a mischievous brow before taking a sip of coffee.
“I know you’re from Texas and that you’re incredibly talented. I know you’ve made a name for yourself and are now one of the most sought out songwriters in Nashville. So far, you don’t seem like you could be a serial killer, but then again, I just met you.” I smile, enjoying the sound of his rich, deep laughter. A sound I really hope I get to hear again. “I also know your ex-girlfriend is Tori Langston.” I mimic his actions by raising my own brow and lifting my coffee cup to my lips.
His eyes glitter with amusement. “All those things are true. Does it bother you that she’s my ex-girlfriend?” He maneuvers our hands so that our fingers are now laced together, his thumb sending shivers down my spine as he caresses the inside of my palm.
I force myself to concentrate and think for a moment on how to answer. “Not at all. She’s in your past, right?” For some reason, I need to hear it from him that she’s not going to be a threat to whatever this thing is between us.
“She’s in my past.” He squeezes my fingers once more, and whatever apprehension I felt disappears. He lets my hand go so we can eat but continues speaking. “I grew up in Austin and my mom was the one who introduced me to music, since she got me my first guitar at age eight. Then me and my brother formed our first band two years later,” he recalls with a grin. “We called ourselves The Blond Monkeys. Needless to say, we changed the name as we got older and realized how ridiculous that sounded.” I smile as he laughs at the memory.
“Does your brother play for your band?” I ask, because I haven’t heard anything about his brother being with him, and last night he was playing solo.
“My brother quit music when his girlfriend unexpectedly got pregnant.”
“Oh,” I murmur quietly, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was for the best; music was never his first love. Baseball was, and then he had his daughter. He currently plays professional ball for the Texas Rangers. He’s happy playing ball and being a dad.”
“Wow, that’s pretty amazing,” I say, impressed that his brother is talented with music and baseball. “Did him and his girlfriend get married?”
“No, they didn’t. She cheated on him with one of his teammates.” His eyes darken in anger, his expression turning cold. “He shares custody of my niece with her.”
“I’m really sorry to hear he got hurt by her,” I tell him with sincerity. No one deserves to be cheated on. “Do you have any other siblings besides him?”
“No, but Sosie, who you met last night, is more like my sister than my cousin. We grew up together until her parents moved her to California.”
I’m about to ask more questions about her, when the alarm from my phone starts to go off and interrupts us.
“Sorry about that,” I tell him as I turn it off. “I set an alarm so I wouldn’t be late for work. I should get going.” I swallow down my disappointment, not wanting our breakfast date to end.
“It was smart of you to set your alarm, ‘cause I would stay here all damn day with you if I could.” He flashes me a heart-melting smile, and butterflies take flight in my stomach again.
Gah, why couldn’t I have won the lottery last week when I played, so I wouldn’t have to go to work today?
“I would stay here all day with you too,” I admit to him before casting my eyes downward, suddenly feeling shy.
“C’mon, let’s get you to work. I’ll walk you to your car.” He stands and holds out his hand. When he pulls me up, I let him lead me out of the restaurant and take his earlier advice of ignoring the people looking at us. I instead concentrate on his hand holding mine as we casually stroll toward my car, both of us in no rush to part ways.
“This is me,” I tell him, nodding at the black Mini Cooper ahead of us. I stop at the trunk and tur
n around to face him, not wanting to say goodbye.
“Thank you for breakfast,” I say, focusing on his shirt before glancing up at him. He doesn’t respond with words and instead grabs my arms and pulls me into him, engulfing me in a tight hug. I close my eyes, inhaling his intoxicating scent, hoping it will linger on my clothes long after he’s gone.
“You fit perfectly in my arms, like you were made for me.” His warm breath tickles my ear, giving me goose bumps.
I open my eyes and lean back to catch his. This man is a master of words, making women swoon with the poetry in his songs. How can I tell if he’s being sincere? Talk is cheap, so his actions will determine if he’s being real or if he’s stringing me along like one of his guitars.
“What are you doing tonight?” His face is so close to mine that the tips of our noses brush. My eyes drop to his lips, and I fight the urge to nip the bottom one.
“I have to work,” I murmur, still daydreaming about what those lips might feel like against mine.
“Where?” he softly demands as he tightens his grip.
I look back up into his eyes and notice we are swaying together in a silent dance. Have we been doing this the whole time he’s been holding me?
“Exit/In. One of our bands is performing there tonight and I have to be there.” I used to think it was cool hanging out with our musicians at every one of their performances, but lately, I’d rather be curled up in bed than having to work another late night. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Looks like I’m going to see a band at the Exit/In.”
My eyes widen in surprise that he would want to come see me tonight when he probably has a million other things he could be doing. “Really?”
“Really.” He chuckles at my response. “What time should I meet you there?”
“Nine? Do you need me to leave you passes?” I inquire, but the devilish smirk he rewards me with quickly reminds me of who he is. “Never mind, that was a stupid question, since you can get into anyplace you want to go.”
“Not every place. Some places require special permission,” he says, his voice making my insides clench. I watch him slowly start to bend his head, and my heart begins pounding in my chest at the realization he’s about to kiss me. I close my eyes in anticipation then feel his lips touch the side of my mouth. He loosens his grip around me and slowly lets go of me. I swallow down the disappointment I feel, because dammit, I wanted that kiss!
Good Lord, he’s turning me into a hot mess!
“I better let you go before you’re late. Text me when you arrive at work so I know you’re safe,” he demands, and all I can do is nod.
“See you later,” I manage to say before walking around to the driver’s side and getting in my car. I start the engine, look at the side mirror for oncoming cars, and then ease into traffic. I glance in my rearview mirror and catch him still watching me drive away.
My spine tingles at the thought of seeing him again. Tonight is going to be a good night; I can feel it. Now, I just have to somehow make it through the day without counting the hours down until I get to see him again.
Chapter Seven
GAVIN
AS SOON AS Aly’s car disappears from my line of vision, I call Bruce, my recording engineer, to see if he can start working earlier than previously scheduled. In this industry, most of us don’t start work until 11:00 a.m. due to the late hours we keep, sometimes not even until after lunch. He doesn’t answer, so I leave him a voicemail and send him a text message. Today’s session isn’t for me but for another artist, so I have to make sure everyone involved can accommodate the schedule change. If not, then I’ll just cut the session short if we aren’t done by the time I need to leave for the Exit/In. Getting to spend time with Aly tonight is an opportunity I refuse to miss out on, especially with a few out-of-town performances I have coming up.
Breakfast this morning only left me hungry for more time with her. I loved making her laugh, watching the emotions of her facial expressions when talking with her, even when the subject matter turned sad discussing her father and my brother. This morning when I woke up, I thought I imagined those crazy, intense feelings I had last night, but they all came crashing over me the moment I saw her gorgeous smile.
Never once did the conversation feel forced and the only issue was that I struggled to keep my hands to myself. I wanted skin-to-skin contact with her, even if it was just holding her hand. The force of our sexual chemistry almost had me pushing her against her car to devour those lips I so desperately want to taste. Just thinking about all the things I want to do to her makes my cock ache. I’m not alone in my desire; I saw it in her eyes when I was holding her. I know if things continue between us, I won’t be able to restrain myself for very long, so hopefully I can prove I’m serious about her.
About us.
I just hope I don’t scare her off with my intensity. I don’t want to waste time playing games, because first, that’s just not how I’m wired. Second, taking things slow means it’ll take longer to figure out if she’s who I think she is to me. I can tell Aly’s guard is up because of my profession, and I get why she’d be more cautious about getting to know me. Then again, if we continue on, we’ll both have to prove we’re loyal to each other and build the trust that is so necessary to have, especially in this industry.
While walking to my car, I pass a flower shop and go in to send Aly some flowers. Since I don’t know what her favorites are, I choose ones that remind me of her: white sunflowers for the happiness she seems to radiate, gardenias for how intoxicating she smells, and calla lilies that represent her beauty. The flowers are perfect for her, and once the florist describes how she’ll arrange them, I look up Aly’s work address and pay for my purchase, knowing she will love them when they get delivered. I leave the shop and decide I might as well go work out, since I haven’t heard back from Bruce. I get into my car and drive to the gym, and as soon as I pull into the parking lot, my cell phone starts ringing with a call from Sosie.
“Are you still at Star Bagel?” she asks before I even get a chance to say hello.
“How did you know I was at Star Bagel?” Dread starts to fill me at the thought of how she found out, since I never told her I was going.
“Pictures of you and Alyson are all over the internet. My phone is ringing off the hook from news stations and reporters asking if I can provide a statement on who the mystery lady you were kissing was.”
“Shit!” I yell into the phone, angry that I can’t even eat a fucking meal out in public anymore. This is the ugly side to fame, where you lose all rights to your privacy. Some people don’t care, because they want to be famous, but I’m not that person. It was the main reason why I hesitated releasing “User” on my own, but the idea of someone else singing my story didn’t settle well with me. Now, anyone who’s with me will pay the price of losing their freedom of anonymity.
Tori loved it when fans and paparazzi took our photo, but Aly seems to be the total opposite with how visibly uncomfortable she was from the attention this morning. I run my hand through my hair in frustration, trying to think of how to respond. “We didn’t even kiss on the lips. I kissed her cheek, for fuck’s sake.”
“Did you get amnesia between last night and this morning? Here’s a refresh—you agreed to take things slow by talking to her on the phone first for a week before taking her out on a date. Is this starting to ring a bell at all?” Sosie asks in a chiding, sarcastic tone that starts to grate on my nerves.
“First, watch your tone with me. Second, I know exactly what I said last night—and then I changed my mind, something I have the right to do, because I’m a grown-ass man. I don’t need permission to date anyone. So, ask me again if I plan on taking things slow with her,” I challenge, because although she can’t understand how I feel, she needs to know what my stance on Aly is now that I’ve seen her again.
“I think I already know what the answer is, Gavin.”
Damn fucking straight. “Be prepared for
more phone calls, because I plan to spend more time with her.”
She must know by my tone not to argue with me, because the line goes quiet for a moment before she softly replies with a mixture of resignation and worry. “How do you want me to respond to the media?”
“Tell them there’s no comment and to respect my damn privacy,” I growl, hating we even have to discuss this kind of bullshit. This hasn’t been an issue before, but with the popularity of “User” and the hype about my new single fixing to drop, this seems like the new norm of my life.
“Gavin, do you understand that once they find out who she is, they’ll probably hound her at work and possibly where she lives?” I nod at the phone, but don’t say a word, because she’s right; they definitely will. At least with my building, I have the protection of it being locked and a doorman to keep people out. I have no idea if Aly has that same protection.
“Don’t get mad at me. I’m only trying to look out for both of you, but maybe you should just cut your ties now before it gets worse. It’s not fair to subject her to the kind of scrutiny she’s about to endure. Tori was different, since she was already in the limelight, but I don’t think Alyson is ready for this.”
Her words cause a sharp, sudden pain in my chest, making me refuse to even entertain the idea. “Fuck no, I’m not letting her go unless she tells me she doesn’t want to see me,” I lie, because even if she did tell me she didn’t want to date me, I won’t back down. No matter how crazy and insane that thought is, I’m determined to see where this leads.
“Again, you just met this girl. Stop acting like a caveman.” Sosie sighs, but I hear a hint of humor in her tone and my lips twitch.
I do feel territorial and possessive of Aly, which is a foreign feeling for me. When Tori would flirt with other men, I would just laugh it off, since she has a flirtatious, narcissistic personality. The thought of Aly flirting with another man makes me feel like I want to punch something.
Love At The Bluebird Page 5
