Chapter 9
Alexis
The bar is finally quiet.
Stephen left an hour ago, and Dex said he has a boxing match tonight, so it’s just me. I wipe down the counters one last time, the hum of the dishwasher the only sound besides the occasional creak of the building settling.
I try not to think about Dex boxing…
Nope. Not his damn body moving in a ring, tattoos glistening on tanned skin, abs flexing with every punch. Nope. Not going there.
A slow breath catches in my chest anyway, like my body didn’t get the memo.
The only time I’ve ever had these thoughts about men is with movie stars or singers I like. Fantasies. Never someone I actually know. Not real life.
I don’t feel attraction to men easily, or at all. My ex-therapist, the one I had to stop seeing two years ago for lack of money, used to say that some people with my history don’t feel attraction to real men because of what happened when…
Nope. Not thinking about that. Shove it away. Done.
I finish stacking chairs, shove them against the wall, and finally let myself sink onto the stool at the end of the bar.
That’s when I remember the grand piano on stage, quietly gathering dust. I haven’t touched one in years. Not since Dad…
My fingers itch. My shoulders relax. I slide off the stool, pull the bench out, and let my hands hover over the keys. The wood is worn smooth beneath my fingertips, faintly cool, like it remembers every song it’s ever held.
“If you have music, Lexy, you’ll never be alone.”
My chest tightens as the memory slips in, soft and clear.
“Music is magic, because sometimes it tells the story words can’t… You learn to master the piano, and you’ll have a best friend for life.”
I look up at him, smaller then, lighter.
“So I can make magic happen just like you?”
His smile is warm, steady. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“You, sweetheart, are the magic. Music just helps you express it.”
The memory fades as quickly as it came, leaving something warm and aching behind.
I press a note. Then another. Tentative.
The sound is familiar and warm. It settles in my bones and makes my mind go still.
It’s like meeting an old friend.
And just like that, I start to play.
? ? ?
Dexter
I put my gym bag on a table as I enter the bar. Boxing with Jude tonight helped me quiet my head, put things into perspective. I needed the outlet.
I look around. Chairs are stacked. Lights dimmed. The last glasses dry on the rack behind the counter.
I’m about to head up to my apartment when I hear it.
The piano.
I turn and walk around the bar slowly. More notes drift through the room.
I stop.
The old piano on the small stage hasn’t been touched in months.
Curiosity pulls me closer. By the time I reach the edge of the bar, I see her.
Lexy .
Lost in the music, eyes closed.
Her fingers glide over the keys, hesitant at first, then confident. The melody grows richer, filling the empty room.
Then she starts to sing. Low at first. Soft.
And suddenly I recognize the song.
Wild Horses by the Rolling Stones.
Her voice wraps around the melody in a way I’ve never heard before. It’s raw. Fragile. Like every word means something to her.
She’s completely unaware she isn’t alone anymore.
For a moment, I just stand there and listen.
The whole bar feels different.
Like the room itself is breathing something alive.
Like the first Wyoming sun after a long, brutal winter.
And the fact that she has no idea what she’s doing to me right now…
Well.
A man like me shouldn’t be anywhere near something that pure.
My jaw tightens.
And I don’t move.
The last note fades slowly into the empty bar.
“You got some talent.” I clap my hands, my voice a little rough.
She startles, her hands flying off the piano like she was caught stealing candy.
“Didn’t know you could play and sing like that.” I point at the piano, then make my way over to her. “Play something else.”
Lexy stands and avoids my eyes, and something in my chest tightens at that.
“I don’t sing for people.”
“Why the hell not?”
She wrings her hands and shrugs. “I like playing for me and…”
“And?” I press.
“And maybe one day I’ll record one of my songs and, I don’t know… sell it to some singer or something.”
I study her. She looks small, like she wants nothing more than to disappear right now.
Strange, considering just a minute ago she was singing and playing so well she filled the whole bar with something close to light.
“I could use someone with your talent on some of my live band nights. Customers would love you.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh no. No, no. Like I said, I only sing for myself or… maybe someday be a songwriter for other artists. But even then I won’t ever let someone hear it before I make sure that it is… well… perfect.”
“So you want to control it?”
She looks down again. “I guess so…”
“You know, Tinker,” I say as I move closer, tired of her eyes not meeting mine. I hook a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at me, “there is freedom in losing that control you cling to so hard…”
Her pupils widen. I glance down, and the urge to taste those full lips hits harder than it should.
She steps back suddenly. “I don’t want to, okay?” She shakes her head. “Look, I’ll clean the bathrooms, take care of the trash every single day, and work all the overtime you want, but please don’t ever ask me to sing in front of a crowd.”
She looks away, shoulders tight, hands clenched into fists at her sides.
“Who told you to hide, Tinker?”
That makes her look up, like I just opened a drawer in her soul I had no business touching.
“What?”
I point at her. “You hide. You run. Hell, if you could turn invisible, you would. Who made you think you weren’t worth being seen?”
Her eyes shine, and she swallows. “I… I don’t…” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I need to take the trash out.”
She turns and runs out of the room.
? ? ?
Alexis
The cold air hits my face the second I push the back door open.
I suck in a sharp breath, trying to calm the tight knot in my chest. The alley behind the bar is dark, the single yellow light above the door flickering lazily.
Good.
No one here to see me like this.
I drag the trash bags toward the dumpster and lift one up, tossing it inside with more force than necessary.
Stupid. Why did I let him get that close?
Who told you to hide, Tinker?
The words echo in my head, and I clench my jaw. Why do they make my eyes burn?
I swipe angrily at my eyes. I am so not crying because of Dexter Hawthorne.
A soft sound breaks through the quiet.
“Meow.”
I freeze.
For a moment I think I imagined it.
Then it comes again.
“Meow.”
I turn slowly, scanning the alley until the sound leads me behind the dumpster. I crouch down and peer into the shadows.
A tiny gray bundle stares back at me.
Two enormous blue eyes blink up at me from a patch of old cardboard.
“Well… hello there.”
The kitten lets out another tiny, pitiful meow. My heart melts instantly.
“What are you doing out here?” I whisper, reaching out slowly so I don’t scare it.
The little thing wobbles forward, rubbing its head against my fingers like we’ve known each other forever.
Oh no.
I gently lift it up and check its neck.
No collar. No tag.
Just soft gray fur and a tiny, vibrating purr.
“You don’t belong out here all alone,” I murmur.
The kitten meows again, louder this time, and I feel its little ribs against my palm.
“You must be hungry,” I whisper.
I glance toward the back door of the bar, then back at the kitten.
If I had my own place, I’d bring it inside without even thinking.
But I don’t. I live in Dex’s apartment.
The little gray bundle looks up at me again and meows like it already knows I’m about to abandon it.
I sigh.
“Okay, okay,” I mumble, rubbing the tiny head with my thumb.
“I’m going to ask him.”
The kitten blinks.
“But I make no promises,” I warn it.
Another soft meow.
And somehow I get the feeling this little traitor already knows it won.
I push the back door open with my shoulder, carefully cradling the tiny bundle in my arms.
“Dex?” I call hesitantly.
The bar is quiet again.
I walk toward his office and find him inside, head down as he studies tonight’s receipts spread across the desk.
At my voice, he looks up. His eyes land on mine. Then…
“Meow.”
His gaze drops to my folded arms, and he cocks his head.
“What do you have there, Tinker?”
He stands and walks over, leaning in to inspect the kitten.
“I found her… or…” I glance down at the tiny ball of fur. “…him behind the dumpster and…”
I hesitate.
“Can I keep him? I promise I’ll clean up after him and make sure he doesn’t get in your way, and I’ll take him with me when I leave. I…”
“Tinker?” Dex cuts me off.
A wicked smile spreads across his face as he straightens.
“What?”
“You’re asking me to take in a pet?”
I look down at the kitten as it meows again.
“I always wanted a cat, but… well… I couldn’t keep one and…” I shrug, suddenly at a loss for words.
Dex studies me, silent, and the weight of his gaze makes me squirm.
“If you don’t want this, I understand… I’ll…”
I start to turn away, but his hand on my shoulder stops me.
I look up.
He gently takes the kitten from my arms, turning it over carefully to inspect it.
“It’s a boy,” he announces, glancing back at me with a grin.
“Well… we could name him Rocket,” I say, my voice a little too bright.
His green eyes search mine for a moment before he hands the kitten back to me.
“You promise he’ll be yours to take care of?”
His right eyebrow lifts in challenge.
I nod quickly.
He watches me a second longer than necessary.
“Okay.”
Something bright and warm spreads through my chest so fast it almost catches me off guard.
“Okay?” I repeat, just to make sure I heard him right.
“Yes, Tinker,” he says. “But instead of Rocket, why don’t we call him Marvel?”
I decide to ignore the fact that we are apparently naming a cat together.
“Marvel?”
I look down at the kitten. He meows like he’s agreeing. “I guess Marvel is perfect.”
When I look back up, Dex is staring at me.
“You’re smiling,” he says.
Only then do I realize I am.
“Yeah… I guess I am.” I shrug. “Kittens make me happy.”
Dex looks down at Marvel like he doesn’t quite understand the appeal, but somehow he still said yes.
“Thank you, Dex.”
His eyes find mine again. “Just keep him out of my way,” he grumbles before returning to his desk.
“I promise.”
I leave the office and head upstairs with Marvel tucked safely in my arms, the weight of him small but grounding.
Once inside Dex’s apartment, I start looking for an empty box. I find one in a cabinet and line it with an old sweater.
“There,” I tell him softly, placing him inside. “Your bed.”
Marvel looks at it, then immediately climbs out.
Five minutes later he’s curled up right in the middle of my bed. I can’t help smiling.
“I know your own bed isn’t that appealing,” I tell him, sitting down beside him, “and I’ll make an exception for tonight. You may sleep in my bed, but only this once, okay?”
Marvel meows, walks over, and rubs against my leg.
“You’re going to boss me around with that cute face, aren’t you?” I sigh.
Marvel just stares up at me, looking smug.
Half an hour later I’m freshly showered and in my pyjamas when I hear the apartment door open.
Footsteps. Then a knock on my bedroom door.
“Come in,” I call.
The door opens slowly, and Dex steps inside.
And his arms are full of things.
He walks past me and sets everything down on the floor near the wall.
A litter box, a scratching post, soft blankets, and even a couple of cat toys.
I stare at the pile, then look back at him.
“Where… how?” I shake my head, completely baffled.
Dex shifts his weight, then drags a hand through his hair. “I ran over to my brother Jude’s place,” he says. “He’s got his own ranch. Horses, cows, chickens, dogs… and, well, cats.” He shrugs. “Asked if he could spare some things. He gave me these.”
My gaze drifts to the bed where Marvel is curled up, purring like he owns the place.
Dex looks at him too. His hands clench, then unclench, like he doesn’t want this to come across as something it’s not. He exhales and points at one of the bags.
“There’s kitten food in there,” he mutters. “And some kind of soap to wash him with.”
I try to make sense of him, of the way he shifts from cold to warm to cold again, but I can’t.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
Dex nods once, then turns and walks out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
I stare at the door for a long moment.
Then I look back at the pile of cat supplies.
He went all the way out to his brother’s ranch… for this. For a kitten he didn’t even want. For me .
“Marvel,” I whisper, scratching under his tiny chin. “Your new dad is confusing.”
Marvel purrs louder as I lie back on the bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling.
He’s a member of Michael’s Legion, Lexy. Don’t forget that.
I repeat it to myself like a warning.
But somehow… Dexter Hawthorne driving out in the middle of the night to get a box, food, and toys for a stray kitten doesn’t fit the picture I’ve built in my head.
And that’s the problem.
Because if I’m wrong about him…
Then I don’t know what kind of man I’m living with.