Can't Walk Away

by Sandy James

  “It’s usually enough to know if you’re ready.” He thought she was, but only time could prove him right. “But I’m sure you are.”

  “And if I’m not?” Her voice quavered.

  “Then you’ll always have a job working here as a waitress or a hostess. But I honestly don’t think you’ll be taking orders ever again.”

  Savannah nodded, pushed her coffee cup away, and stood. Holding out her hand, she said, “Deal.”

  Brad smiled and shook her hand.

  Savannah checked her watch. “I need to be getting home soon.”

  “Come in Monday morning at nine. We’ll work on your first set list.”

  After seeing her out the back door, he took the stairs two at a time to get to his office. He had some investigating to do.

  He had a feeling that there was so much more to the story, and he intended to discover everything she’d left out.

  Chapter Five

  Brad took a long pull from his water bottle while he stared at a picture of Savannah performing from six years ago. He’d found the information by dumb luck while searching for any trail of her. A check for her name had turned up a video by a Crystal Bloom. A viewer had commented that he thought the singer’s real name might be Savannah Wolf. Not a very catchy stage name, and nowhere as theatrical as Savannah Wolf. She’d made a wise choice coming back with her own name.

  Her hair had been the same white-blond, although she’d worn it much shorter. Now, it fell past her shoulders; then, it had framed her oval face. She’d lost some weight over those years, which made her small frame seem even more fragile. There had been nothing then that really gave her an air of originality. The outline of the bird on her wrist hadn’t even been inked yet, and there were no brilliant blue strands of hair.

  Now, she commanded attention when she took the stage. Something about her, something more than the subtle changes in her appearance, had changed. For the better.

  Her eyes, he realized. She’d gotten an air of worldly wisdom in her gaze.

  Why he was so utterly fascinated with her remained a mystery. There had always been so many women moving quickly in and out of his life. Only Katie had been able to get him to take vows.

  But Savannah wasn’t the only one to know what it was like to be betrayed.

  He clicked the mouse over the only YouTube video he could find of Savannah singing as Crystal Bloom. She’d been filmed by someone’s phone camera at a small club in Louisville. The picture and sound quality were shit, but the touch of magic he’d heard in her voice was there—not nearly as strong as when she’d sung for him, but there nonetheless.

  He was watching her singing career as an embryo. Had her ex not pulled the rug out from under her life, she might’ve enjoyed some success. Surely enough to avoid waiting tables…

  The next video he pulled up was from her performance at Words & Music—one of several that people in the crowd had posted. Savannah belonged on a stage, appearing much more comfortable than she had six years ago. Watching her sing again sent chills racing over his skin, and others were noticing her, too. This file had a high number of views for being only a couple of days old.

  What exactly had she gone through in those years to change her so profoundly? What had added a mountain of emotion to her voice that had been absent in that first video? Was the experience of being dumped and ripped off enough to put the threads of angst and longing in her voice? When she’d sung on Indie Night, she’d picked three perfect songs to showcase her talent. But the last song—“For My Broken Heart”—had been the one to tug at his emotions. The woman knew love and loss, and every word had been packed full of feeling.

  It didn’t take too long to discover that the guy who’d ripped her off was named Michael Hart, but learning more about the man was proving difficult—and entirely frustrating. Very few people Brad had reached out to had even heard of him.

  “She’s really good,” Russ said as he strolled into the office. “I could recognize her voice all the way down the hall.” He took a seat on the edge of the desk and inclined his head at the monitor. “What’d you find out?”

  “She had the start of a career before we hired her.” Brad opened the video from Louisville’s Riverside Café and started it for Russ. “This was a few years ago.”

  After about a minute of listening to “Me and Bobby McGee,” Russ said, “She was good, but she’s gotten better.”

  Brad switched to the Indie Night video. “There’s something…different about her now.”

  Russ frowned. “Well, yeah. Anyone can see that she grew her hair out.”

  As Ethan stepped through the door, Brad rolled his eyes. “Why did we make such a dumb jock our partner?” Brad asked.

  Ethan chuckled. “He’s a helluva bouncer.”

  “I guess if he can’t knock heads on the gridiron anymore,” Brad said, “he can knock ’em here when drunks get rowdy.”

  Giving his knuckles a loud crack, Russ said, “Damn, there are some days I miss being the quarterback.”

  Ethan flopped on the couch. “So what are you two up to?”

  “We’re watching our Savannah sing,” Russ replied.

  “She’s not ‘our Savannah,’” Brad said with a clenched jaw, unsure as to why Russ’s words had bothered him so much.

  “Careful,” Ethan cautioned. “You’re starting to sound jealous.”

  “And possessive,” Russ added. He folded his arms over his chest and glared at Brad. “She’s a great person. Can you please not do one of your numbers on her?”

  A low whistle filled the air. “The ref takes away a point,” Ethan said with a smirk. “Brad hasn’t done one of his numbers on any woman in a good, long while.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” Russ said. “Then it won’t be difficult for him to leave her alone.”

  Something in Russ’s tone made Brad bristle. “Why do you care anyway? Do you like her or something?”

  “Not in the way you think,” Russ replied with a shrug. “I’ve talked to her a lot and we’re sorta friends. She’s a good person, Brad.”

  “Let’s keep her that way,” Ethan said, a thread of anger in his voice—the same protective type he’d heard in Russ’s.

  Not sure what had pissed them off so quickly, Brad drummed his fingers on the desktop. “What?”

  Silence settled over the office, and it didn’t take Brad long to realize exactly what was wrong. Savannah meant something to his friends. Whatever magic Savannah had begun to weave around him had captured them as well. They were going to act as her champions.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “All right. All right. I get it. I promise to keep my interest in our Savannah entirely professional. Does that make you two morons happy?”

  Ethan nodded.

  But Russ was still drilling holes through Brad with his eyes. “You’re forgetting something pretty damn important. You wrote a song for her. That implies a helluva lot more than professional.”

  He had a point—not that Brad would concede to it. Shit, but he was already worried about his feelings for her. If only she would’ve let him kiss her. Maybe then he could have satisfied his curiosity and put aside his fascination.

  The problem was that if Brad promised to leave Savannah alone, he was likely to break his word. “How about you two butt out and let me help her get a start in the music business? Or do you think that I’m too much of a heartless, selfish bastard to do that?”

  Russ pushed away from the desk and gave him a scorching scowl. “You do what you’ve gotta do.” He marched out of the office.

  Brad sighed.

  “You didn’t even remember her,” Ethan reminded him.

  “A minute ago, you were her defender. Now you’re telling me she shouldn’t matter?”

  Ethan shook his head. “I never said she didn’t matter. I just wanna know this: If you got her, then what? Your record with women isn’t stellar.”

  That was a question Brad couldn’t answer. His own thoughts about Savannah were so con
fusing that he felt like a yo-yo. He couldn’t sort out exactly why she was able to crawl so easily under his tough skin. “I’m not looking to date the woman.”

  He didn’t trust his own judgment, though. When Katie had popped into his life, he’d assumed she returned his strong feelings. He’d let things between them flare so quickly, he’d never taken the time to truly get to know her—to learn her true motives for pursuing him. It had been easy to let his ego assume she was falling in love with him the same way he was tumbling head over heels for her.

  It was easier to dismiss whatever this was that he was starting to feel for Savannah as lust, which meant the best thing to do was keep his distance. “Like I said, I’ll keep it professional.”

  With a derisive snort, Ethan got to his feet. “Do yourself a favor and try to figure out what you really want before you do anything stupid.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like dropping your monkish ways, sleeping with her, and then dumping her.”

  Brad kept his mouth shut about how Ethan mimicked a hell of a lot of Brad’s old habits where women were concerned. “I already told you I wasn’t looking to date the woman.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Stop being a dick and close the door on your way out,” Brad snapped. “I’ve got work to do.”

  The sound of the door closing seemed rather prophetic—as though a part of his life was ending.

  Which meant another was beginning?

  Hell, now he was waxing philosophic.

  Taking a break, he wandered down to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of the strong brew. He sipped it as he leaned back against the walk-in refrigerator’s door and watched the kitchen being made ready for the day. The restaurant’s famous corn muffins were baking in the oven, the scent making his stomach growl.

  “Hey, Brad!” Sous chef Leslie Guinan came hurrying over.

  Tall and lanky, the African-American woman been a basketball player in college. A blown ACL ended any potential for going pro, so she’d turned to her first love—cooking. She was number two on Brad’s staff, second only to the head chef, Porter Oaks. The restaurant was damn lucky to have them both.

  “Can you adjust the meat order for next week?” she asked.

  “Depends,” Brad replied, loving to tease the woman. “You better have a good reason to make me do paperwork.”

  “Because,” Leslie said, her tone growing insistent, “Porter said we ran out of ribs Saturday night. I promised him I’d make sure you knew. Did you?”

  He took another sip of his coffee before he replied. Leslie was a fantastic chef, who ran the kitchen and its staff like a drill sergeant, but she got riled so easily, he wanted to teach her a little bit of patience. “I did.”

  “And?” Her brows were gathered, and she’d drawn her lips into a stern line.

  “Relax, Leslie. I already changed the order.”

  She took a playful swat at his arm. “I knew it. At least I should’ve known. You’re always on top of things. Did you also ask the produce supplier to—”

  “To add arugula to the next order. You told me already. Three times.”

  With a laugh, she smoothed her hands down the front of her chef’s jacket. “You’re awesome, Brad.” One of the cooks motioned to her, so she hurried to the stove with only a nod in his direction as a farewell.

  As the rest of his staff did everything from cutting up mushrooms to stirring the soup du jour to rubbing the seasoning on the ribs, he finished his coffee and tried to puzzle his way through his Savannah dilemma.

  Although he’d tried to brush his partners’ concerns asides, they’d both given him food for thought. His interest in his new singer was going to cause problems.

  She’d inspired him; there was no denying it. A second song was already niggling its way into his thoughts. But if he kept pushing forward with his plans to help her career, he could easily find himself spending more and more time with her—and could easily find himself heading back into the heart of country music.

  Katie had wanted nothing more than to be a part of that world, and Brad had been a means to an end for her. He hadn’t realized it at the time. No, he’d seen Katie as a woman who knew what she wanted and went for it. His mistake was in thinking that what she wanted was him when what she’d truly desired was to rub elbows with celebrities. Which was exactly what he and Katie had done while she’d been alive.

  It wasn’t until he’d found her journal shortly after her death that he realized their life together had been one big fucking lie. He’d assumed she’d wanted to share his life. Those entries had shown him otherwise, letting him know exactly how little she cared for him, wanting instead his connections. What she’d shown him was that the country music industry had far too many people exactly like her, people who used other people to get what they wanted.

  No matter how much he was drawn to Savannah, she represented a direct path back into a world he’d left far behind him.

  Or had he learned his lesson where women were concerned? Could he treat Savannah as a woman he might be interested in and then hope she was a better person than Katie?

  For right now, he’d treat her like a singer who worked with him.

  Brad refilled his coffee and headed back to his office. As he finished off the second cup, he came to an important decision. He would help Savannah get her career up and running, but then he’d step away and convince her to work with a good manager. As he’d promised Russ and Ethan, he’d keep things between them from getting too cozy.

  He wasn’t about to lose himself to the business again, nor would he let some woman call all the shots and lead him around like some kind of pet. Besides, if Savannah was after him for the people he knew in country music, she’d find herself out of luck. As quickly as things happened in Nashville, most of his contacts had probably moved on.

  Satisfied with his plan, Brad grabbed the phone and punched in a number he hadn’t called in years. He was going to do everything he could to give Savannah a chance to be more than an opening act, then he’d let his little bird fly free.

  “Greg? Hi, it’s Brad Maxwell. Yeah, long time, no see. Look…I’ve got someone you need to hear.”

  Chapter Six

  One more time,” Savannah said, confident she’d finally mastered the lyrics to Brad’s new song—“That Smile.” She leaned her hip against the piano and waited for him to play the intro again.

  Brad shook his head and stood. “You don’t need another run. You’ve got this down pat. Good thing, since I wrote it for you.” He winked and picked up the sheet music, set it on the top of the upright piano, and started scribbling a few words.

  Blinking a few times, she tried to process what he’d just said. Surely she’d misheard him. “You wrote it for…me?”

  “I did,” he replied matter-of-factly.

  She still didn’t believe it. “Really?” Savannah kept staring at Brad.

  “You actually wrote ‘That Smile’ for me?” she asked again. When he shot her a disgruntled frown, she held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I know I keep asking, but…how often does a girl find out she’s the inspiration for a Hitman song?”

  He frowned. “Please don’t call me ‘Hitman.’ Not something I like to hear anymore.”

  “Sorry,” she said. That nickname had been used by the press so often, she hadn’t realized it might offend him.

  Brad quirked a smile to show she was forgiven. “Sit,” he ordered as he sat on the bench. “We need to talk about your set list. You go on next Friday so you can open for Southern Pride.”

  “So soon? Figured I’d need a few weeks to get myself ready.”

  “You’re ready now. All we’ve got to do is decide which songs work best for you.”

  “What about the Freaky Geeks?” Savannah couldn’t help but ask as she took the place next to him on the piano bench. “I’m not pushing them out, am I?”

  Brad shook his head. “They already had one foot out the door. I talked to
them yesterday, and they were grateful to have more time to prepare for their next gig.”

  Although she couldn’t help but think the Freaky Geeks were making a huge mistake leaving Words & Music behind, she kept quiet. Their leaving was her opportunity, and she meant to take greedy advantage of it. “All right, then. Next Friday it is.”

  “Let’s hear ‘That Smile’ once more, from the top.” He launched into his song.

  Her song. As he played, she sang, knowing the song had new meaning for her. Now, she paid special attention to the lyrics, marveling that those words could describe her—at least they described her through Brad’s eyes.

  “From the moment I first saw you, all I could think of was that smile.”

  The tune wove a spell around Savannah. She felt as though he’d reached deep inside her and touched her heart. By the last note, tears were stinging her eyes. Not wanting him to see how deeply he’d affected her, she glanced at the door on the opposite side of the stage and tried to get a hold over her tumbling emotions.

  “Amazing,” he said, leaning over to give her shoulder a friendly bump with his. “You’re absolutely amazing.”

  She might have nodded in response but honestly couldn’t remember. She was too caught up in the revelation that those wonderful words were all about her—words that praised her smile, her eyes, even her voice. Words that spoke of tender emotions that she now realized were already taking root inside her.

  I’m an idiot.

  “Hey…” His hand moved to her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  With a hard swallow, she blinked back the threatening tears, embarrassed when one escaped her eye and began to trail down her cheek.

  “Savannah…” Brad gently gripped her chin to make her face him. Then he brushed the tear away. “Don’t you like the song?”

  “I love the song,” she replied in a breathless whisper.

  Captured by his gaze, she searched his face, not sure how to handle the longing his blue eyes sent shimmering through her.

  She was playing with fire, which was a stupid thing to do for a woman who’d already been badly burned. Yet as he leaned in, closing the distance between them, she couldn’t seem to make herself stop from moving toward him. Her hands moved to his shoulders and then tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck.