Chapter 16 #2
Brody recovers first, though the whole table is looking at the woman like she’s grown a third eye in the middle of her forehead. “Where’d you get that?” he growls, and the woman jumps.
Her guy takes a small step forward and puts his hand on her lower back protectively.
But he’s not challenging Brody. No one is stupid enough to do that, not even a random dude in a bar.
Give him credit for guts, but Brody would mop the floor with this guy if he had to.
“It was on the blog,” the woman repeats.
“Willow’s blog? A Day in the Life of a Tree?
” She’s explaining my girl’s work to me like I’m a clueless dumbass.
“There was a whole bunch of goat ones, but this one is . . . you.” She’s losing steam, and certainty, though she’s absolutely right.
That is me and Trollie. “I just printed it out because I thought it’d be cool to have you sign it. ”
I take the marker from her, defusing the situation and silently telling Brody to take it down a notch. “Yeah, that’s fine. I just didn’t see that picture on there so it threw me. No worries. Here.” I sign my name—my first autograph!—and hand it back to her.
“Thanks so much!” she gushes, any nerves dissipating into bubbles of joy as she looks from the picture to me.
Brody and his growliness are all but forgotten.
She turns around to the guy behind her, who smiles congenially at her, but when she looks down at the photo again, he looks to me like ‘whatcha gonna do, man?’ I chuckle a bit at the poor sap.
“Found it!” Shay squeals. “Oh, my cheesus and crackers, she posted like ten pictures of the goats. Here’s Baarbara, and Trollie, and . . . Oh, here’s George too.” She’s scrolling, not showing any of us her phone so we can see too. But I believe her.
“Did you know about this?” Brody asks.
I shrug, not bothered in the least about the pictures.
The random asking for an autograph was weird, but kinda cool in a way, now that I think about it.
“I told her she could take pictures of me any time she wants, and she asked about that one. I just hadn’t seen it.
She’s really careful about not showing faces and stuff, though.
Said it helps people put themselves in the experiences better if there’s not an actual person to relate to.
That’s why it’s always bits and pieces and parts, not a whole face or body shot. ”
Luke snorts. “Body shot.”
Shayanne pats his leg, grinning conspiratorially. “Later. Look at this!”
She spins her phone around, showing everyone the picture Willow took of our hands.
I did know about this one, but seeing the caption she added does something hot and fiery to my insides.
Maybe love is warm and fuzzy for some people, but it makes me want to strut my ass back over there and finally fuck her on the bar.
Love is real. Her words, my thoughts exactly.
Fuck yeah, it is, sweetheart.
Allyson and Katelyn ooh and aah over Shay’s phone while the guys smirk at me. Actually, Rix smirks too, but then she leans over and whispers something into Shay’s ear, and Shay giggles.
But none of these assholes are any better. I’ve watched every damn one of these men get wound tighter and tighter around their women’s pinky fingers. I’ve wanted that too but never felt it until now.
We talk for a bit longer, and a couple more people come up to chat, one with me, and one with Luke about a horse for sale. Before long, it’s time for me to hit the stage.
As I step out on the small, makeshift stage I helped Hank build, a calm comes over me. Eyes being on me is usually something that irritates me, pricking at my skin like needles as people judge me.
Those poor Tannen boys. Did you hear about their mother? Did you hear about their father?
Bobby, he’s the nice one, though that’s not saying much because those brothers of his are hellions through and through. And the sister? Well, poor thing never had a chance.
Cross the street and don’t look him in the eye, or he’ll probably fly off the handle again. Anger management problems, the whole lot of them.
Pity he could never do anything with that God-given talent. Some people just don’t get the same opportunities as other folks do.
Here, onstage, none of that matters.
They think they know me because I stand up here and willingly bleed myself dry for their enjoyment. The truth is, I hold the power with every chord. I choose what I share, what stories to tell, and how they see me.
I’ve perfected several images. A rough cowboy with a heart of gold. The asshole who’ll beat the shit out of anyone who gets in his way. A hard-working farmer with a voice filled with gritty honesty. The man everyone wants but no one gets.
There’s truly only one person I care about in this crowd tonight, and she’s waving at me with her bar towel. I throw her a smile, knowing that she sees all of me and loves what she sees.
Love is real.
I get to work, planning to put on a hell of a show for Willow.
“Hi, everyone. I’m Bobby Tannen.”
With a strum of my strings, I play. Old songs, new songs, cover songs, and originals.
I do the schtick to encourage everyone to get a drink and tip their waitress and bartenders well. “Especially the blonde,” I add with a wink, and people laugh, the ladies saying ooh.
Sometime around my cover of Cody Jinks’s Loud and Heavy, I look over to find a guy in a blue polo shirt, khaki slacks, and clean boots leaning across the bar. Willow’s standing across from him.
He’s probably ordering a drink, man. Chill out.
But as I launch into the chorus again, the animal instinct in my gut says that’s not the case.
Especially when those gray eyes cut to mine and she doesn’t smile.
I damn near stop the song and use the microphone to tell this asshole to back away from her.
But he’s not doing anything wrong. I just feel the need to piss on my territory again, even if I have to punch out another tourist to do it.
Instead, I use another weapon.
I look pointedly at Brutal and catch his eye, then look to Willow. He follows my gaze and immediately gets up to rescue her for me. We’re Tannens, and we’ve been looking out for each other for a long time. Now, we protect what’s important to us too, like Rix, Allyson, Cooper, and even the Bennetts.
And now Willow.
I finish the song and let my fingers dance aimlessly over the strings as I watch. Brutal looks back to me and lifts his chin. ‘All good, man.’
Willow’s eyes are dancing brightly now, and even from here, I can see the laughter in them. She blows me a kiss, and it’s the only thing that keeps me in place and singing the next song.
I finish my set and put Betty in her case, slipping her behind the curtain. I take a quick minute to go around back and wipe down because it’s hotter than Satan’s taint out there tonight with the huge crowd and lights.
Hank’s office door opens and Willow struts in like she owns the place. She basically does at this point, I think.
“Thinking of punching someone out again?” she teases.
“Worked last time . . . got you in here alone with me. Oh, and look . . . worked again. Seems pretty successful, if you ask me,” I reply dryly.
I put my hands on her hips, hooking my fingers through the beltloops, and pull her in close as I spin her. Her hands go to my chest, but I’ve got her, sure and steady as I pin her to the door with my body pressed against hers.
Tonight felt like a private concert for one, no matter how many people were in the room.
She was all I could see, all I cared about, and she was too far away.
I liked it better when we were sitting together on my tailgate, just the two of us and the night as I sang and she took pictures.
That felt right. That felt better than any show I’ve ever done.
It quieted the beast inside me more. Giving my music to her was all I needed to truly be at peace.
I stare at her lips, making us both wait one more second to let the anticipation build. She licks them, getting ready for the kiss she knows is coming.
“Don’t you want to know what that guy was asking?”
I shake my head. “Don’t care. Just want to kiss you and feel you kissing me back.
I want to grab your ass and lift you up so you straddle me.
I want your arms and legs wrapped around me so tight it’s like you’re trying to climb inside my body, and then I want to get inside yours, fuck you all night and have you tell me you love me every time you come. ”
“Oh.” All the wind is gone from her sails, and she sags into my arms, letting me put her where I want her.
I bend down and make good on my words, meeting her lips with mine tenderly and letting our passion ignite into the inferno it always becomes.
I grip her ass, and she hops up, her bare legs wrapping around my waist and her arms going over my shoulders.
“Yes,” I grunt, grinding against her.
There’s a loud knock on the other side of the door, and she freezes, eyes going wide. “Oh!” she says quietly. She unlocks her legs and slides down my body until her tennis shoes hit the floor.
“No hanky-panky in my office, young lady. And where’d you put the Jack again?” Hank calls through the wood.
Willow shakes her head and whispers, “He knows where the whiskey is, but I’m pretty sure that means he wants me to come do the cocktails so he can sit down at the taps. That’s what I want too. Nearly had to tie him to the chair to keep him there in the first place, so I’d better go.”
She steps away, and I stop her by grabbing her wrist. “That the only thing you want?”
Her blushing cheeks are adorable. “No, I want . . . what you said too, but after we go home, ’kay?”
“Promise?” I demand teasingly.
She smiles and repeats after me, “Promise.”
I reward her with another kiss, but the throat clearing on the other side of the door says we still have an audience.
When Willow opens the door, Hank is leaning on the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest.