Unwritten (Woodlands 5)

“San Antiono?” She yelps.

“Christ, yeah. Maybe before. How can you not know? I haven’t even looked at another woman since you showed up. Every song I sing, I’m singing it to you. Every time I’m up on stage, it’s to make you want me more.” I can’t believe I’m arguing with her about this. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Davis cross his arms and lean back on his heels as if he’s enjoying seeing me pour out my guts on the asphalt.

“You didn’t even tell me you wrote songs for other people.” She throws up her arms. “I thought you thought we were hooking up.”

“Well, we’re not,” I say tersely. This isn’t how I thought my declaration of love was going to go. A knot of tension balls up at the base of my neck.

She starts blinking and then tears start flowing. “I was going to tell you that I loved you and Marrow ruined it all,” she cries. Her telltale blush quickly engulfs her entire face. She throws herself at me, digging her face into my chest.

I nearly collapse with relief. I dig my hands into her hair and force her face up so I can kiss that beautiful mouth of hers.

Before I can make contact, she jerks back. “Oh my God. I can’t believe we did this in front of my brother.”

I glance over and Davis is still standing there. I glare at him. He glares right back.

“I don’t care who the fuck hears,” I say for both the benefit of both the Olsens. “I think you have something to say, right?”

“I love you, too,” she mumbles.

I pull back and tip her chin up. “Again, for the kids in the back.”

She twists around to face Davis, who’s standing there looking bemused. “I love him. Don’t leave the band because of me. Talk to each other and work it out.”

She wriggles out of my embrace, but doesn’t run off right away. Instead, she pushes up on her tiptoes to plant a hard, tongue-filled kiss against my mouth. A kiss that rouses the beast in my jeans. He has no appreciation for time and place.

I draw back and swipe my thumb across her wet lip. “I can’t handle anything more,” I tell her ruefully.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do any more than that, too,” Davis chimes in.

Landry lifts her finger to flick her brother off.

“If you two are done acting like five-year-olds, Rudd’s out of surgery,” Ian calls from the doorway.

“This isn’t finished.” Davis stomps forward.

Landry hears him. “Oh yes, it is. This is my life and I get to decide who I sleep with.”

“There you go,” I say.

“But, Adam, if you want Davis to be part of the band, then we all have to get along.”

“Ha,” Davis exclaims.

“You both need to shut up and focus on Rudd,” she admonishes.

I drag a hand over my mouth and mumble, “Sorry.”

Davis mutters something under his breath that may have been sorry or may have been fuck you.

“What’d the doctor say,” I ask when I reach Ian. I give Jack a pat on the ass. He makes no sound. Little dude can apparently sleep through a tornado.

“It’s good news. Nothing vital was hit. They had to remove his spleen and he has some ligament and muscle damage in his torso but they stitched it up and said that he shouldn’t have too many problems in the future.”

“What does too many problems mean?”

“He’ll have some tightness, maybe won’t be able to do as many crunches in the gym but Rudd’s convinced that his scar is going to attract the ladies.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of me. “Of course he does. He must be feeling better, then.”