Can't Walk Away

by Sandy James

  “Look, Brad…I understand. I do. You’re writing songs again, and it might be harder to get everything done that needs done. But I can’t read your mind. If you need me to pick up the slack…”

  Brad settled in his desk chair and glared at Ethan. “I’m fine. And I’m done. That was the last song. Okay? I don’t need any help. I can handle the restaurant.”

  “Easy there, partner. I wasn’t saying you couldn’t.”

  “Then what were you saying?”

  “What I’m saying is that I think it’s great you’re writing again, and I think it’s great that you seem so taken with Savannah.”

  Rattled at the thought everyone could see his attraction to the singer, Brad raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m not taken with her. I’m—”

  I’m what? Falling for her?

  That was ridiculous. He wasn’t about to let a woman he barely knew disrupt his life.

  “I’ll handle things here, okay?” Brad let out a sigh. “I wrote a couple of songs, but they’re done. I’m back on the job.”

  Ethan frowned. “I wouldn’t mind hanging around here awhile. If you need me, that is.”

  Even though he was scolding himself for being so interested in Savannah, Brad had come up with what he considered a brilliant plan while writing the second song. If she really wanted to hit the ground running, there was a way to easily jack up the publicity for her first night as their opening act. “Well, since you offered…how about you sing one of my new songs with Savannah this weekend?”

  The scowl Ethan threw him was hot enough to leave blisters. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope.”

  “Admit it. You’re pulling my leg.”

  “Not one bit.”

  “She doesn’t need that kind of publicity,” Ethan insisted.

  “I know you hate trading in on your name, but the kid needs something…special for her first opening set.” Although he saw Savannah as anything but a “kid,” Brad simply couldn’t turn off his desire to help her out.

  How old was she anyway? Twenty-two tops… Although her Crystal Bloom song was more than six years old, so she’d have to be at least a little older. Maybe twenty-five? He felt practically over-the-hill at thirty-five.

  He needed to stop obsessing over her when he ought to be working on ordering stock for the restaurant’s kitchen. Instead, he was micromanaging Savannah Wolf’s return to country music.

  Why?

  Because she mattered to him.

  I’m already in too deep.

  Ethan drew Brad back into the conversation. “So you want ‘Crawfish’ and Dottie Walker’s little boy to join the up-and-coming Savannah Wolf in a new song by the Hitman?” He rolled his eyes.

  “Something like that.”

  At least Ethan took some time to think it over. Brad had expected an immediate “Fuck you,” and his partner to storm out of the office. Nothing could anger Ethan the way being reminded of his parentage could. The last thing he ever wanted to do was trade in on his parents’ legacy.

  “Don’t do it for me,” Brad said. “Do it for Savannah.”

  Ethan spread his arms against the back of the couch. “I interviewed her, you know.”

  “I figured as much since I sure didn’t remember hiring her.”

  “Russ thinks she’s a great waitress.”

  “Yeah, well…Russ acts like he has a crush on her.”

  “And what do you think of Savannah?”

  “I think she’s a great singer.” Brad picked up the pages of his new song and then stared at Ethan, hoping he’d see exactly how much singing a song with her could give Savannah a boost. “Just one song, Ethan? Help the girl out. You obviously saw something in her when you hired her, right?”

  Ethan nodded. “She hasn’t disappointed me. Cheyanne says she’s the best waitress we’ve got. I hate to lose her, even if it’s to sing for us.”

  “Then let’s give her the best chance we can. What d’ya say?”

  With a drawn-out and rather dramatic sigh, Ethan nodded again. “Fine. One song. But you owe me. Big time. Where’s the sheet music?”

  Chapter Eight

  Savannah tucked her hair behind her ear. Again. She couldn’t seem to control the nervous action. Working for Ethan Walker was one thing; singing with him was beyond anything she’d ever dreamed.

  “Just relax. I don’t bite. Promise.” Ethan sat on one of the stools in the middle of the stage. He took his guitar and settled the instrument against his thigh. As he gently strummed, he gave her a wink. “We’re just singing a song. That’s all.”

  A snort slipped out. “That’s all.”

  “You weren’t this nervous when I interviewed you,” he quipped.

  “I was. I just didn’t show it.” She shrugged. “Besides, that was waitressing. Singing is scarier.” She almost started babbling on about who he was and why it was so surreal to find herself onstage with him, but she bit her tongue. Ethan probably got sick of people telling him he was special only because his famous mom and dad had procreated.

  But it was crazy. Not only was she singing with Ethan Walker, they were going to perform a new Hitman song.

  Even though she’d been on the stage at Words & Music only a couple of days ago, she couldn’t help but feel intimidated. While she loved performing, she found it nerve-racking to have all three owners watching her. A crowd she could handle; those men were another story.

  First, there was Ethan. She’d heard him sing at a charity event a few years back. Whether it came from his parents or was his own God-given talent, he had a voice that touched her soul. A true, rich baritone with a charming Tennessee twang. To sing with him was an honor that she hoped she could live up to.

  Then there was Russ. They’d grown close, friendly and comfortable, as he’d kept an eye on the crowds while she waited tables. Even when he’d bounced a drunken customer or two, he’d kept his sense of humor and done his best to keep things low key. When she’d confided that she was going to take a turn on Indie Night, he’d offered to stay close and offer moral support. Just seeing his friendly face in the crowd had calmed her. She loved his rather offbeat sense of humor and dedication to his job, and he was a fantastic person to work with.

  Savannah’s third “problem” was the biggest. Brad. She couldn’t help but compare the way he’d captured her attention to him sneaking up from behind and clobbering her over the head. Quite simply, she couldn’t get him out of her mind.

  There wasn’t room for romance in her life, especially with a guy with his reputation. Yet she couldn’t stop her thoughts from settling on him. The way his gaze followed her made her both giddy and nervous. At least he seemed as affected by her as she was by him. If either had a lick of common sense, they’d put enough distance between them to douse the fire that flared between them with a hefty dose of cold water.

  Since he was here and so was she, it appeared as if they were both idiots.

  Ethan nodded to the backup musicians, counted the tempo, and then she joined him in performing “That Smile.”

  Every single time she sang the song, Savannah found herself near tears by the end. This time was no different and was, in fact, even more moving because of the beauty of Ethan’s voice blending with hers. She was able to turn her head and swallow hard before directing her attention back to Brad so she could hear his verdict and hopefully receive some good constructive criticism.

  He stood in the middle of the dance floor, facing the stage with his arms folded over his broad chest. “Good, but needs some work,” he finally said with a nod.

  Ethan shook his head and laughed. Then he leaned closer. “He always says that.” His voice was a whisper.

  “I always say that,” Brad said, his voice echoing through the place, “when a performance needs work.” He walked toward the stage. “We’ll keep tweaking, and I’m sure it’ll be perfect by Friday. You two sound great together.”

  As Ethan stood, Savannah popped off her stool and placed a hand on his arm
. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me.”

  “No thanks necessary.” He crouched and set his guitar in the case.

  “Oh yes, thanks are necessary,” she insisted. “You have no idea what you singing this duet means to me.”

  “You’re quite welcome.” He flashed her a heart-stopping smile that would’ve set any woman’s heart to pounding—anyone but her.

  Seemed her heart had already settled on another man.

  Brad appeared on the stage. A frown bowed his mouth when his gaze found hers.

  She’d thought the duet sounded great, but he was clearly displeased. “Would you like me to go through the rest of the set?”

  He shook his head. “The lunch crew is ready to set things up, and customers will be in here soon. I want to keep you under wraps until Friday.”

  “But I think the other songs need some work.”

  “Looks like we’re both perfectionists,” he said with a grin. “They sound great, Savannah.” When she started to protest, he added, “But I’d be happy to work more with you on all of them. Just not here.” His eyes shifted to Ethan. “Think you can take enough time away from the horses to handle lunch rush today?”

  After snapping the guitar case closed, Ethan stood. “Sure. Just for today?”

  Brad nodded. “I’d like to take Savannah to my studio. She could use a little help getting ready. We can have some peace and quiet there.”

  Russ, who’d also joined them on the stage, came striding over to her side. “You’re taking her to your place?” His glare was blistering hot.

  Brad didn’t seem at all intimidated. “Since I only have one studio and it happens to be at my house, then I guess I’m taking her to my place.”

  “I’ll tag along,” Russ announced.

  Not sure how to defuse the tension between the partners, Savannah focused on another problem—her daughter. “I need to make a call.” She shifted her guitar to her side, stepped away, and fished her phone out of her pocket. Then she dialed her mother.

  “Hi, darlin’.” Her mother’s voice buzzed in her ear.

  “Mom, do you think you could pick Caroline up? She’s playing at Kailey’s house.”

  “You mean her friend on Oak Street?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I’d be happy to. You still working on your song?”

  “Actually, I need to work on all of them,” Savannah confessed.

  Her mother scoffed. “You sing like a nightingale. There isn’t a single thing wrong with those songs.”

  “You’re sweet, and I thank you for that. But if Brad will help me work on them, then I’m gonna work on them. I’ll pick Caroline up as soon as I can.”

  “Don’t you worry, darlin’,” her mother insisted. “You take all the time you need.”

  Knowing she owed her parents more than she could ever repay, Savannah swallowed back tears. “Thank you. Love you lots.”

  “Daddy and I love you, too.”

  * * *

  Love you lots.

  Brad couldn’t tamp down the jealousy that flared at hearing Savannah say those words to whoever was on the other end of that call.

  Did she have a boyfriend? Other than the information about her former manager, there wasn’t much to learn about her personal life. Hell, he didn’t even know if she’d been married to the Hart guy. She’d kept a low profile, including avoiding social media. No Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. Even her answers on her job application were sparse. Ethan must have been majorly impressed with her people skills in the interview to have hired her when there was so little to go on.

  When she came back to stand between him and Ethan, Brad couldn’t stop himself. “Talking to the boyfriend?”

  “Hardly.”

  Seconds slowly ticked by until Brad decided she wasn’t going to expand on that rather cryptic reply. He’d have to ask her to be specific when he got her away from everyone. Maybe she’d open up a little if they had some privacy.

  “Are you ready to work?” Brad eased her guitar strap from her shoulder and took the instrument.

  “I’m ready,” she replied. As he tucked her guitar into the case, she said, “I can do that.”

  “Never said you couldn’t,” he replied, winking at her before he picked up the case. “I’ll drive.” As he headed toward the stage door, he stopped short and whirled around to face Russ, who’d followed hot on his heels. “You’re not invited.”

  Russ crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “The hell I’m not.”

  Before Brad could start listing things that Russ needed to do at the restaurant, Savannah stepped between them. She faced Russ. “I really appreciate you wanting to help, but I think it might be better if you stay here.”

  Russ didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. I want to get these songs just right, and I can do that better without an audience. Okay?”

  Russ replied with a curt nod before turning to head to the door leading from the stage to the restaurant.

  Brad cocked his head. “I’m not an audience?”

  Her laughter was as sweet as a song. “Not really. You’re my boss.”

  “So is Russ.”

  “He’s my restaurant boss; you’re my singing boss.”

  “Well, then. Let’s see if we can get you ready for Friday.” He swept his arm toward the back stage door. “After you, m’lady.”

  She laughed and gave him a small curtsy. “Thank you, m’lord.”

  * * *

  “We’re here.” Brad pulled his SUV close to the garage door and then punched the opener.

  A glance to his right made him worry. Savannah’s mouth was agape as she stared at his house. Sure, it was a bit…much. But Katie had fallen in love with it the moment the realtor brought them here. She’d wanted a mansion, and she’d gotten it.

  All Brad had cared about was that there was a decent kitchen and plenty of room for him to work. The recording studio had grown out of the need to hear his songs in various stages of completion so he could tweak them until they were right. There were hours of recordings of Ethan singing Hitman songs, often multiple times with slight changes that eventually elevated each piece of music to what Brad considered “ready.” Whenever Ethan grew weary of singing the same thing, Brad would do it himself. That was often counterproductive since he hated his own voice when he heard it in playback.

  Katie offered to sing, but the poor woman had been tone deaf. Recording wasn’t her thing—in fact, she hated it with a passion. To her, the country music world was about partying with celebrities and enjoying everything that he was able to buy her with his royalties.

  Including this house.

  “This is really your home?” Savannah asked in a breathless whisper.

  “For now,” Brad replied, leading her from the detached garage to the front door. “I’ve been thinking of putting it on the market and getting something smaller.”

  “I figured Ethan lived in something like this.”

  “Nah. His parents might’ve been rich, but they were nothing but country folk at heart. Their house is a tourist attraction now. He’s got a horse farm not too far from here.”

  “You live here all by yourself?”

  “Yep.”

  When they stepped into the elaborate foyer, he kept a close eye on her. Even he thought the marble floors and elaborate columned entry leading to the double staircase were a bit intimidating. He honestly didn’t even “see” the place anymore. It was just home. But watching Savannah’s reactions made him realize exactly how opulent the place was.

  He felt like a fool for bringing her there. She had to think he was putting on some kind of show, letting her know exactly how much money he had. That had been Katie’s game, not his. He still wore clothes that predated his first hit. There had never been a need to show off, and he made his mind up about one thing as he watched Savannah gaping as she moved through the foyer into the living area. He was putting the damn house up fo
r sale.

  The door was open for him to tell Savannah a little more about himself. She’d asked if he lived alone. Although he’d replied, he hadn’t truly answered. If he told her about Katie, maybe she’d open up about whatever it was she hadn’t told him.

  No. Not now. Not yet. They barely knew each other. Sure, they’d almost kissed, and Brad was honest enough with himself to admit that he wanted Savannah. Badly. But telling her about his past would be the first step toward starting a relationship, and he still believed the best thing for now was keeping their connection professional rather than personal. For both their sakes.

  Funny, but he was having a horrible time doing that.

  Figuring they could break the ice—and that she could get past her stunned silence—by having a bite to eat, he motioned for her to follow him to the kitchen. “I haven’t eaten lunch. How about I throw something together for us?”

  “Sure.” Although she was replying to him, her attention was now fixed on the enormous gourmet kitchen they’d entered.

  With the exception of his studio, this was the only room where he felt “at home.” Cooking was a hobby, and when they’d bought the house, the kitchen had been why he’d agreed to buy it. While Savannah kept looking around, Brad opened the refrigerator to find out what ingredients he had to work with. Thankfully, his housekeeper also had the job of making sure there were edible things in his kitchen so he could indulge in his passion for cooking.

  “Anything in particular you’d like?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “You’re going to cook?” she asked as she pulled one of the bar stools away from the kitchen island.

  “Yes. I actually love cooking.”

  “You don’t have to go to any trouble for me.”

  “I never want it said that I’m not a good host.” Since she didn’t say she wanted anything particular, he grabbed some eggs, ricotta, and bruschetta. “How about an omelet?” He set those ingredients on the island, then fetched some sundried tomatoes from the pantry.

  “That sounds great.” She sat on the stool and watched him.

  Brad turned on the burner and did his best to put on a performance for her. He cracked the eggs with one hand before tossing the shells into the sink. He added ingredients with the right amount of flair, even throwing in a “Bam” or two like his idol, Emeril Lagasse. The downfall was when he tried to flip the folded omelet.