Love at The Bluebird

“Please don’t kill him yet, because I actually would like to go to a Predators game for free.” Willow laughs.

The wheels in my head start to turn, as next week will be the perfect time to introduce her to Brodie. “Even if Gavin can’t make it, we’ll still go,” I reassure her, silently plotting how to introduce those two that night. I’ll have to let Brodie know I’ll be there, and hopefully, he’ll be able to meet us after the game.

My scheming is interrupted when my phone buzzes with a text message notification. Shane doesn’t even bother handing my phone back to me and instead takes it upon himself to read the message first. His lips form a sly smile, and that I’m-up-to-no-good sparkle in his eye returns.

“According to Gavin’s text message, and I quote, ‘I’ll rearrange my schedule to be with you. Count me in,’ end quote.” Shane hands back my phone with a sigh and a satisfied grin on his face.

“Damn, that’s hot,” Willow remarks, and I nod in complete agreement.

I’ve been very impressed with Gavin and his efforts to make sure we see each other at least once a day since meeting. And even then, he’s constantly texting and calling me throughout the day.

“Great, it’s a date then! I look forward to meeting Mr. Sexy-as-Sin McNeer next week,” Willow says, and I know she’s smiling. I can’t help but smirk, knowing Gavin’s not the only good-looking guy she’s going to meet that night. I know Brodie will definitely like what he sees when he meets Willow, because she’s gorgeous. But will the feeling be mutual? I don’t have a very good track record with setting Willow up, since she has such high standards when it comes to men. I just have a feeling that if she gives Brodie a chance, my matchmaking skills will finally pay off.

Chapter Nine

GAVIN

I RUB MY eyes with the heels of my hands, tiredness seeping through my body as I leave the studio for the night. Today turned out to be longer than I expected, with getting ready for our television appearances in LA and coming back to the studio to write with seasoned country music star Patty Douglas. I probably should’ve declined her last-minute invite to join her and gone home to pack, but something told me to go and I’m glad I did.

We got the first draft of a song done within two hours, which is pretty damn impressive. I have a feeling the final production of this song is going to smoke the country music charts and possibly the Billboard charts as well. I believe in this song so much that I even promised her I would continue working on it while in LA. Some songs you know right away are going to be a hit and this is one of them.

When I get in my car and close the door, I smell that sweet scent that’s been plaguing me all day long. I inhale deeply, moaning out loud as remnants of Aly’s perfume tickle my senses. My fingers start twitching at the memory of being inside her warm, slick pussy. I had no intention of going as far as I did inside my truck in broad daylight this morning, but things escalated quickly when her soft, plump lips touched mine. Her kisses send me spiraling out of control, and I completely lose myself when I’m with her.

Do these intense feelings scare the crap out of me? Hell yeah, they do, but despite the craziness of feeling this way over someone I just met, it also has never felt more right. I start my engine and look at the clock on my dashboard to see it’s past eleven and she might be sleeping. An overwhelming need to see her one more time before my flight in the morning rocks me. I can’t stand the idea of not seeing her for three days. I grab my cell phone and call her.

“Hey,” she answers softly, and I immediately smile at hearing her voice.

“Hey, darlin’, did I wake you?”

“No, I was just reading… and maybe waiting up for just a little bit longer in hopes to hear from you,” she admits with a nervous giggle, and my heart hammers in my chest at how fucking sweet she is.

“I’m sorry it took so long, baby. I’ve been thinking of you all damn day though. How about something even better than a phone call? Are you up for a late-night visitor?” I ask, hoping she wants to see me as badly as I want to see her. Seconds tick by without her response, and my hope starts to fade.

“Sure,” she finally says. “But if your plan is to get laid tonight, then maybe you shouldn’t come over,” she states coldly, her voice lacking its usual warm tone.