It’s starting to feel like a piece of me, too.
Hell, I don’t think I breathe the whole time she sings, with those liquid-gleaming green eyes locked on mine and a smile on her lips that’s like heartbreak and sunlight had a baby.
Aw, shit.
I think I might be in love with this gorgeous girl’s breathtaking, musical heart.
I’ve been trying so hard not to be that dude. Not let myself give in to the way she gets under my skin with that curvy body and delicate lips and her pillowy touch.
Except, somehow when I was trying to ignore my body, she got inside my head, inside my heart.
I’m not even gonna pretend my eyes ain’t stinging.
By the time she trails off, gasping for breath, chest heaving, I’m grinning like a fool.
A silence falls that makes the café feel like a cathedral.
All of these people gathered here to worship the beauty those two girls made together.
Then Peace ducks her head, running a hand through her wildfire hair, letting out a shy, raspy laugh.
“Sorry,” she says. “I think my voice has had enough for tonight. But I hope y’all enjoyed the show.”
There’s a soft chuckle from people who are clearly just as overcome with emotion right before the clapping starts.
Well deserved.
And Peace’s eyes widen, blushing as the noise spreads. Everybody applauds, calling out soft praise, laughing. Just like there’d been this thunderhead of emotion that built up and now it’s looking for an outlet just so we can all breathe.
I still can’t stop smiling, and fuck if I don’t hope she can tell how I feel.
She glances at me, then away, then back, smiling the whole time, tucking her hair back as she stands, holding the neck of her guitar.
I start to get up—I just want to be near her, even if I don’t know what to say—but stop when a familiar figure steps in front of her, blocking my line of sight.
Holt.
I’d been so caught up in Peace I hadn’t even realized that bastard snake was here.
The warmth and softness inside me instantly transforms into rage, hard-edged and dark and deadly. I watch him bend over her with that charming smile he turns on everyone, the fucking serpent crashing the party in Eden—but he’s the apple too, and he always offers himself as temptation.
He’s got his rogue look tonight, nice-looking button-down half-open at the throat and cuffed to the elbows, tucked into black slacks.
No suit coat, no tie, like he’s some hot-shot executive slumming it in half-casual clothing.
Always gets the ladies going. Makes them wonder what other rules he breaks.
Like the rule that says you don’t fucking put your hands on someone else’s woman, and especially not someone else’s wife.
Maybe Peace isn’t mine.
Maybe I’ve been pushing her away more than I’ve been pulling her close.
But I see murder-red as I watch Holt offer Peace his hand, smiling down at her with his gaze dipping over her in a hungry way, those whiskey eyes of his gleaming.
And Peace smiles up at him, laughing as she takes his hand, shakes it, blushes at whatever he murmurs to her.
Don’t do it, Blake. Don’t fucking do it.
She ain’t yours to claim, yours to defend.
I try too fucking hard to believe that.
When he bends down to whisper something in her ear and her eyes widen, her lips parting on a breath, I snap.
I’m out of my chair before I can even blink, shouldering through the people milling around with a snarl caught in the back of my throat.
I feel like a charging bull, just as big and clumsy and about to make a disaster, but it’s like I’m disembodied and watching myself do all the dumbest shit in the world as I stalk up.
“Holt,” I bite off.
He stiffens, then turns, blinking at me before he offers an almost shocked smile. “Hey, Blake. What’s up? Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“I can tell.”
And suddenly I remember that note.
I remember Holt looking at Jenna in the same slimy, entitled way he’s looking at Peace just now. A snake-man through and through, even when he was just a kid.
Raw doubt explodes inside me, wondering just who my brother really is.
How much like our ma he might be.
And if he’s gonna be a big heaping problem.
If he’s gonna be dangerous.
Rather than answer him, I turn my gaze on Peace, glaring down at her.
“I see you’ve met my brother,” I snarl, then correct. “Half-brother.”
Peace gives me an odd look—wounded, and I want to kick myself for being such a raging dick. She has no idea what’s going on.
“He was just telling me he’s your brother, yeah,” she says, hugging her guitar a little closer like a shield. “We hadn’t gotten a chance to meet yet. I never realized you had a brother in town.”
“I’m working on the big rebuilding contracts,” Holt says, smirking. “Might stick around a bit longer, though. Maybe put down roots. You planning to hang around here awhile, Peace?”