Chapter 69
“ S he’s really good at this,” Carson observes from where we’re standing onstage, his gaze on Peace.
“She is,” I wholeheartedly agree, though I’m not surprised. Peace has always had the focus and the drive to be good at whatever she set her mind on. Like Carson, my eyes follow her as she works the crowd. Only five hundred VIPs from the meet and greet have been let into the pavilion to find their seats so far, but soon the entire place will be filled. We had an unexpected surge of ticket sales in the last couple of hours for some reason. “Peace is good at a lot of things.”
“Pretty too,” he adds, jabbing me in the ribs with his elbow. “Just like her sister.”
“Peace isn’t for you.” In other words, I don’t want him anywhere near her. “Keep away, Car. I’m warning you,” I growl.
“I get the vibe.” Carson shrugs. “I can look but don’t touch.”
“Damn straight,” I confirm. My brows pinch together. I’m not even sure I’m okay with him looking at her.
“Does that apply to everyone? The brothers too?” He shifts to face me, arching a brow. “And what about you?”
“Most of all me.” I curl my fingers into my palms as I see a guy in the audience touch Peace’s arm. I glare as he says something to her. He’s standing way too close.
She glances up and finds me. Eye contact alone is all it takes to electrify me. I want her, want to fuck her again and again, but I can’t. We’re in a better place after spending time together today, but it only made my fascination with her worse.
I glance down at my hand. Looking at the silver ring she bought me at the guitar shop doesn’t distract me from her. I trace the guitar man inscription, knowing I want my name inscribed on her heart. I want her to be as fascinated with me as I am with her. And I don’t want anyone else to ever have that privilege.
Carson bumps me with his shoulder. “You forgiving her for not telling you about the intern gig?”
I shrug. Though it should give me pause that she withheld that important piece of information, nothing gives me pause when it comes to her. Not even her little private meeting with my old man.
“You two seemed to have kissed and made up.”
“There was no kissing involved.” I glare at him, but really, I’m mad at myself and beyond frustrated. There were opportunities to kiss her. I was painfully aware of each one. When I set her on the bike. When I helped her off the bike. After we sang together. When we watched the sun setting over the bridge.
“I’m wondering how long it’ll be before you tap that again.” He points at Peace, but he doesn’t need to. She’s all I want.
“Can’t.” I grit my teeth together, but, man, I want to. Having her once only increased the craving.
“Why?” he asks. “Because you think you’re bad for her?”
“Of course I’m bad for her.” My eyes burn following her. “Just look at her. She’s pure light, and I’m nothing but dark. You know me. You know the things I’ve done. What I’m capable of. You know basically all there is to know about me.”
“I do.” Carson studies me closely. “And that’s why I don’t get it.”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
“Why not have her temporarily? Without strings? Isn’t that what she originally agreed to?”
I nod tightly.
“How badly can you corrupt her if it’s a limited time thing?”
“The problem is,” I explain since I’ve already thought through this angle, “I don’t think I’ll be able to let her go if I go there again.”
“That’s what I figured.” He shakes his head. “Sorry, bro.”
“Yeah.” I nod somberly. “I have a temper. I’m an alcoholic. I’ve been arrested. I’m just one step away from trouble all the fucking time. She deserves better than that.”
“You might be right,” he allows. “But you’re better when she’s around and you two sure looked great singing together.” He whistles low but not loud enough to be heard over the recorded music piping through the venue speakers.
“How did you know about the duet?” I ask.
“Saw it on YouTube. That was some seriously amazing shit. Didn’t know Peace could sing. Didn’t realize you had vocal chops like that either.” He bumps his shoulder against mine. “You trying to steal my job?”
“No way, man,” I reply. “Just messing around with a friend.”
“Your just messing around is ticking toward 250k likes on our IG page. Nearly a million views already on the YouTube post.”
“What the hell?” My brows go up in disbelief. That might explain the surge in ticket sales.
“Have you seen it?” he asks me.
“No.” I shake my head. “Been a little busy this evening.”
“Yeah.” He snorts. “Stalking but not having sex with your obsession.”
He has that right. I withdraw my cell from my jeans pocket and google my name. “My Only One” duet featuring Bo Jackson and Peace Jinkins comes up as the top hit over Avery and Justin Jones’ last performance of the same song.
“Holy shit.” I hit play. Reliving the experience, I lose touch with reality for five minutes and forty-nine seconds.
“She could have a career onstage rather than behind it,” Carson muses.
She definitely could, except for one impediment. “She’s too shy. She doesn’t like performing in front of an audience.”
“She doesn’t look shy singing with you.” He taps my phone. “Or even now. Look at her down there on the floor with all the fans.” He gestures, and I notice how content Peace looks among fellow music lovers like herself. That irresistible sparkle in her eyes is back in full force.
“She’s having fun,” Carson says. “Apparently, you’re not that bad for her after all, huh?”
“She likes all the band stuff,” I confide, but I don’t look away from her. “When we were kids, she told me how much she liked all the stories behind the music. She mentioned how cool she thought it would be to go on the road with a band.”
“Very interesting,” he muses. “Did her dad take her out on the road with Tempest?”
“Not that I know of.” I return my cell to my pocket.
“Didn’t think touring would be a good scene for her when she was younger, I bet.”
“That’s probably right.” I give him some more context. “War is extremely protective of Peace.”
“Like you,” he says, and I glance at him sharply because I never thought of it that way. Nodding once, he crosses his arms. We both watch Peace make her way down to the first row. Throwing back her head, she laughs at something one of the fans says. “But it seems to me she doesn’t need any protecting.”
“You might be right,” I agree, my eyes glued to Peace.
He claps me on the shoulder. “And chances are I’m right about you and her too.”