Page 19 of Tell Me No Lies

I almost laugh because most people couldn’t pick out the bass line even if they tried. “Thanks.” My distracted eyes drag around the crowded bar. They stop all on their own when they settle on a particular dark head of hair. I try to tell myself I'm only looking for Piper because I know there's a high likelihood she'll get into trouble tonight. That's it. I'm just helping Christian keep an eye on his girl and her friends. But even I don’t believe my bullshit.

"I used to plan in a band."

My gaze lingers on the top of Piper's head a little longer before finally going back to the woman still standing in front of me. "Cool. What band?"

It doesn't seem like she was expecting me to ask that question, and her smile falters for a second. Finally she admits, "It was actually the band." Her head tips and a shoulder lifts. "Marching."

I nod my head, hoping I'm not coming off as a prick. "Marching band is cool." I give her a flash of a smile and start to step away, but she follows my movements, continuing to block my path.

"I played the clarinet." She leans in closer, eyes dropping to my mouth. "Playing it requires a lot of lip and tongue work." She drags said tongue across her lower lip, like she's trying to emphasize the point she's making. The offer behind it.

There isn't really any need. I picked up what she was putting down the minute she stepped in my path.

But, like the bartender, I can't make myself scrounge up even the smallest bit of interest. "I bet you were great." I give her another quick smile, this time moving faster as I step around her. "Thanks for coming to the show."

Moving through the crowd, I risk another peak Piper's way, just to make sure she’s still behaving. The second I turn my head, our eyes lock and she scowls at me. For some reason it makes me feel better. Like maybe all her ire is directed only at me tonight. That I'm the only one she'll attempt to cross. I sure as hell hope so, because I really don't want to have to kick anyone's ass. Not at The Cellar. Stella would kill me.

Because I love to antagonize her, and maybe to ensure she stays pissed at me instead of anyone else, I shoot Piper a wink, smiling wider when I can almost see the steam coming out of her ears. I don't know what the fuck I've done tonight to piss her off so much, but I'm pretty sure all I have to do is breathe.

For some reason, I'm feeling better as I climb the stairs, relaxing in my chair for a couple seconds before the waitress brings me my second drink. By the time I'm finished with it, our break’s over and it's time for our second set. This time I let myself seek Piper out. Let my eyes drift her way more often than not.

It's a mistake.

We’re only halfway through the set when a group of men find their way to the table she sits at. Lydia and Myra both might as well have ‘fuck off’ written on their foreheads. Their body language and expressions make it clear they are not interested. But Piper...

Piper is all fucking smiles and laughs for them. From the second they arrive, she doesn't spare me a single glance. Not a frown. Not so much as a dirty fucking look. She's too busy laughing with the clean-cut preppy boys surrounding her. When she puts her hand on one of their biceps, I nearly come unglued, taking off toward the end of the stage before Christian blocks my path, narrowing his eyes at me until he has to make his way back to the center mic.

I'm stuck and she knows it. Forced to watch every flick of her hair. Every curl of her lips. Every tilt of her head.

When the set’s finally over, I practically drop my bass into its stand and walk right off the end of the stage, jumping to the floor instead of disappearing behind the curtain. A handful of women try to block my path, but I ignore them. I know I should try to be nice—these are our fans—but I don't give a flying fuck.

I march straight up to the table, eyes locked on where Piper is still openly flirting with some random guy. Her gaze slides my way, smile dropping and eyes widening when she sees me coming for her. She's barely on her feet, scooting her high-top chair back, before I'm on her, hand curling around her arm. "Tell your new friends goodbye."

Piper scoffs, trying to get her footing enough she can shake off my hold, but the brace on her foot offers little traction on the smooth floor. "What are you doing?"

I glance over at the guy she's been talking to the longest, and to his credit he seems ready to defend her honor. Prepared to get between us and protect her. Too bad that's not his fucking job.

"Hey, man." He holds one hand out, but his voice stays calm. "She doesn't want to go anywhere with you."

He seems like he might be a nice guy so I really hope I don’t have to put my fist through his face. "It only seems that way because you don't know her." I lower my voice, stepping between his body and Piper’s. "But I can promise you she very much enjoys the places I take her."

I hear Lydia gasp at my back and see Myra's eyes open wide from the corner of my eye. I’ve taken this too far, but it's too late to turn back now.

I’m not sure I would anyway.

The guy seems almost as shocked by my declaration as everyone else, his brows lifting. He leans around me, getting his eyes on Piper. "Who the fuck is this guy?"

A smile curls my lips, because I know what I'm about to say is going to piss Piper off to no end. "Her husband."

I take full advantage of the man's shock to turn and grip my supposed wife around the hips, hefting her up and over my shoulder like the caveman she accused me of being. I carry her, kicking and screaming, through the bar, but no one else tries to stop me. Maybe it's because I'm part of the band they’re here to see. Maybe some of them are familiar with the reputation I once had and don’t want to risk my wrath. Whatever it is, I'm grateful, because I'm not sure how I would handle it if someone got between me and the swinging door leading to the back hallway.

I shove my way through, strides long as I go down the narrow passage, carrying her to one of the storage rooms lining the backside of the bar. I smack her on the ass before setting her down, being careful about her braced ankle.

She snarls up at me, one hand rubbing the ass cheek I slapped. "What the fuck was that for?"

I lean down, bringing our eyes level. "You know what that was for." I move in closer and she backs away. "You aren’t really interested in that guy and we both know it." She keeps backing away. “You were just fucking with me.” The sight of her here in front of me heats my blood in a way no other woman in this bar could. “You were trying to piss me off, and you succeeded, Sugar.” I pull in a slow breath, making one last-ditch effort to rein myself back in, but the air between us carries her cherry vanilla scent, the reminder of how it permeated my clothes the last time I touched her making me groan at the memory of how fucking right she feels against me.

Around me.

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