Knowing Emily would be close.
So fucking close.
So far out of reach.
I hit the sidewalk. The night was alive, neon signs flashing from where they hung outside bars and clubs, beacons for those out looking for a good time.
A way to forget.
To let go.
A lighthouse for the hopeless who had nowhere left to go.
Pretty fucking sure I fell into the latter.
I passed by a couple larger clubs, opting for the first dive I came to.
They were easy to spot.
Grungy and bleak.
The sound of live music seeping out from within, tendrils that swirled and wafted, crawling along the ground until they found someone to sink their claws into and sucker inside.
At the door, I paid the five-dollar cover and moved inside the crowded space.
It was drab, as expected. Muted, hazy lights glowed from the lamps that hung from the rafters, extended by metal ropes from the ceiling, set to a slow sway by the beat of the bass from the band that played tonight.
For the last year since I’d taken this position, these had been the types of dives I’d sought out.
Fitzgerald called it dumpster diving.
Thing was, you found the best talent in the lowest places. Bands made of grit and determination and raw genius. They were just waiting for someone who knew what the fuck they were doing to sculpt them into something great.
It was my job to chase greatness.
Not that any of that was even a concern now.
That title nothing but a way to swindle myself in.
Didn’t mean I wasn’t good at it.
I’d had the honor of discovering some fucking awesome bands that had earned their right in the spotlight.
Like instinct, my attention moved to the two-foot riser stage where three guys performed beneath a fog of yellowed, dingy lights.
I pegged them as local.
Twangy country boys who were slinging covers.
Good but not great.
I found a secluded booth in the back, slipped into the scarred wooden bench. A second later, a waitress appeared. “What can I get for you?”
“Woodford, neat.”
“Be right back.”
She disappeared back into the fray, and I slung myself back in the booth, fingers tapping at the tabletop.
Itchy.
Antsy in a way I hadn’t been in forever. Could feel this slowly brewing storm coming to a head.
In a flash, the waitress was back, sliding the glittering tumbler down in front of me.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything else.”
She walked away, and I brought the glass to my lips, taking a big gulp, hoping it might calm my raging nerves. That it might soothe some of the hatred that roiled and disgust that distorted.
I cringed when I felt movement at the side, cringed even harder when I felt the hand on my shoulder.
“You look lonely.”
I lifted my attention to the voice. Flirty and high and not close to being the sultry voice I’d come to crave.
“I’m not looking for company.”
I turned away and took a sip of my drink.
Giggling, she slipped into the booth beside me.
“Maybe I could change your mind.”
I swiveled a hard glare her way. “I don’t think so.”
Her blue gaze swept over me, the girl gorgeous in that overly done way, dressed up for a night out, to dip her fingers into something salacious and sinful.
I couldn’t blame her.
But not with me.
Not tonight.
She leaned closer. “You sure about that? You look like you’re nursing a broken heart. Nothing like a little distraction to make you forget.”
I almost laughed, looking over at her when I asked, “You think I’m suffering from a broken heart, huh?”
I had news for her. This heart had been broken a million years ago. No chance of healing it.
Angling her head, she smiled something sad. “Isn’t everyone?”
Couldn’t help but return a smile. “Seems so.”
“What could it hurt to be broken together?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Had no fucking clue what was holding me back. Probably was exactly what I should have done. Put a wedge so thick between me and Emily that neither of us would attempt to cross it.
Sever the bonds my heart had been so foolish to forge.
Fucking impossible.
Knew it with the tremble of my insides that came with a lash of awareness.
Need and this deluge of devotion that engulfed me.
My gaze drifted, and it immediately snagged on the silhouette of the girl who’d been haunting me since the moment she’d stumbled into my life. Eyes piercing me from across the cramped bar, bodies shifting around her while the girl stood stagnant in the middle of them.
The eye of a storm.
A spotlight.
Soulshine.
My guts twisted.
Need consuming.
Dick instantly hard.
But it was the way my spirit shivered that was the problem. The way possessiveness bounded.
She wore that fucking white dress that damn near dropped me to my knees every time it was draped over that gorgeous body.
Nashville written all over it.
Cute and sexy.
Blonde waves cascading down her back.
Old, scuffed brown cowgirl boots accentuating a mile of legs.