More Than Want You (More Than Words 1)

“Oh, buddy. Those are some heartrending songs.” Rob shakes his head. “You pissed her off.”

I hear it, too. And I hurt along with her. How can that be? We had one night. Okay, one great night. One magical night. But still just one fucking night.

My obsession should wear off soon, right?

I hope. I haven’t really slept since she left. I definitely can’t be in my bed without thinking of her.

At the conclusion of the song, the audience applauds. The ovation is muted because the mood in the room is, too.

Keeley smiles. I can tell it’s forced. “Thanks. This next song will be familiar to a lot of you.”

When she breaks out with Fergie’s “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” I can’t stand it. Her nose is red, her eyes a bit swollen. Contrary to the song, she has been crying.

Keeley follows that up with Adele’s “Someone Like You.” A good-bye and a kiss-off. Everything logical in my head tells me not to wait around until after the show to see if I can speak to her, maybe get her on board—or get her back to my place so I can touch her again—but logic isn’t winning the argument tonight.

After a brief break, when she disappears in the back of the joint instead of inviting someone to flirt with her at the bar, she returns for another tear-my-heart-out set, starting with Lady Antebellum’s “Need You Now.” The only thing that’s good about it is how beautiful her voice sounds and the fact that she obviously hasn’t forgotten me. I’m sure of that when she shifts her vocals to Avril Lavigne’s “When You’re Gone.”

The way she grips the mic, the emotion on her face, the pleading note in her voice… Yeah, I’m totally convinced this woman walked away from me because I was a bumbling idiot that morning—but she’s not over me. We’re nowhere near done. Still, I can’t give up on orchestrating Griff’s downfall.

Where the hell does that leave me?

When she completes her final set with Roxette’s “It Must Have Been Love,” the nod to Pretty Woman seals the deal. I have to stay. I have to try again.

No fucking clue what I’m going to say.

As the audience applauds, she takes her last bow, looking so solemn I want to wrap my arms around her. I don’t know if I’ll scrape together the right words to ask if she’ll come back to me and agree to my plan. But…no guts, no glory.

Beside me, Rob slaps me on the back. “Good luck, man. Don’t do anything stupid.”

I grab his sleeve. “What is that? What would be not stupid in this scenario?”

I really don’t know anymore.

“You’re serious?” Rob rears back with a frown. “Wow, I’ve never seen you less than totally confident. If you want this girl more than anything, you have to apologize, offer to start over, and drop this scheme of yours.”

Give up my long-term ambitions for a woman I barely know? “I can’t.”

Rob looks like he both understands and agrees. “I know you can’t. Repaying Griff for his assholery is much more important. Don’t worry about the girl. Play her. Get what you need out of her. Then toss her back in the sea like every other fish. She’s no big deal.”

Then he’s gone. I do a quick search of my soul—it doesn’t take long—and I realize I want both revenge and Keeley. Absolutely. Probably more than I should, but that doesn’t stop me from staring at her like she’ll disappear if I blink.

Am I so hung up on this woman because it’s been years since anyone walked out on me? My ego isn’t fragile. Am I making some subconscious attempt to rewrite my history with Tiffanii and succeed this time with Keeley? No. That mumbo jumbo doesn’t ring true.

Then what is my problem? I need to screw my head on straight.

After I toss some bills on the table, I scrub a hand down my face. Keeley stashes the mic, then smiles at the crowd one last time before heading to the employees’ area of the bar.

“Keeley…” I charge after her.

Fuck it. I’ll dream up something to say. I don’t really have too many impulsive bones in my body, but I think fast on my feet. I’m in sales, so something will come to me. I can sew this deal up. I hope.

Except I don’t want to sell her right now. I just want to see her.

“Keeley!” I call again, louder this time.

She whirls and catches sight of me. She stops dead in her tracks. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to talk. I never meant to insult or upset you. I’ve felt terrible about the way things ended, our misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding? So you didn’t tell me to spend time with your brother and if my dazzling wit didn’t charm him, it was okay to use my bedroom skills?”

“I know it sounds terrible. Just…give me an hour. Let me explain. I’ll feed you more crème brûlée…”

“I’m not a potential client you can reel in with a free dessert coupon, Maxon.”

That hurts, especially because I know she’s right. “You’re not. I never thought that.”

“So what did you think? That I’d crawl from your bed, put on my slutty dress so I can cloud your brother’s head with lust, and never think there was anything wrong with it?”

Pretty much, and when she puts it like that, I wince. “An hour. Please. Will you hear me out?”

She hesitates, and tears tremble on her lower lashes. “I shouldn’t.”

I’m a bastard but I use her soft heart against her because I want this too much to let it go. “Don’t you believe in second chances?”

“You know I do.” She sighs. “All right. Don’t make me regret this. Where can I meet you? I’m driving myself.”

“We can go wherever you want. Name it.”

“Sale Pepe. I’m in the mood for Italian.”

“I know where that is. I don’t mind driving.”

She shakes her head. “That didn’t work out so well last time. I want a way home, just in case.”

My sister would say that Keeley is playing it smart. But the little spitfire with pink hair is usually impulsive and funny and a little bit wild. She’s showing me none of that tonight. If I want her to give an inch, I have to stop trying to take a mile.

“All right. I’ll follow you to the lot.”

Fifteen minutes later, we sit at a two-top in the corner together. The place isn’t very crowded this late at night. The waiter is fast, greeting us before I have more than a chance to thank her for agreeing to talk to me.

She orders a veggie panini and a Pellegrino. Now that I’m with her, my appetite finally makes an appearance for the first time in days. I order rigatoni quattro formaggio and a glass of house red. The waiter seems to take forever recounting everything back to us, but finally the kid—who can’t stop staring at Keeley—scrams.

We’re alone. Well, mostly. A handful of people lounge around the restaurant, but none are seated close to us. Our little corner is as private as anyplace public is going to get.

“What do you want, Maxon?”

Direct. No hint of teasing or flirtation. No smile. I feel slightly panicked and I’m not sure why. Something about her never talking to me again, maybe?

I clear my throat, still grasping for the right words. “I realize everything I said to you the other morning was an insult. I never meant it that way.”

“Maybe you believe that. But it wasn’t just about the way you treated me. I understood clearly in that moment how you see me.”

“No, you don’t. You’re not cheap. You assumed that. I