Page 43 of Protector

When I stop from his sarcasm and because I don’t know the rest, Tom continues the song.

I watch and enjoy until he finishes. “That’s more impressive,” I say.

“I’m sure you know something a little more…current, though, don’t you?” Tom asks, looking at me expectantly.

I shrug, taking a quick second to think since I only know a handful of songs and most only the beginning. “Do you know ‘Open Arms’?”

“Who doesn’t?” Tom gives a nod as if to urge me on.

I start, then mess up and start again. “It’s been a while since I’ve played.” But once I get my groove, it’s not half bad, and Buddy and Tom sing some of the lyrics. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever witnessed.

Before I finish, Buddy’s face turns serious, his gaze pointed somewhere behind me. I stop and look over my shoulder.

Hands in the pockets of his jeans, Brooks stands tall and imposing.

I hear Tom clear his throat behind me. “Looks like someone’s here to steal our girl.”

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

Brooks

“God, you’re beautiful.”

Staring at Shay under the low lights of this small ballroom, both of us perched on the small piano bench, I internally berate myself for letting the words escape my stupid pie hole. I honestly didn’t realize I said it aloud until I saw her face light up.

“First, thank you. And second…” She puts a hand on my thigh. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I look away to the bar, as if her soft curves pressed against me are not evidence enough that I can’t escape the effect she has on me no matter what I do.

“Act like you’re not allowed to say anything nice to me.”

I return my gaze to her. “I think we both know, it’s more than being nice.”

Leaning in, she puts her lips near my ear. “So what. I like it.”

My body heats, and I lean back, putting whatever distance between us I can. “You hear that day in and day out.”

She shrugs. “Maybe…but it’s different when you say it.”

I won’t dare respond to that. Instead, I look at the time on my phone. “Wow, I can’t believe how long we’ve been here.” Long after the nice folks from the reunion cleared out of here. Once they were gone, I started in with telling Shay about my encounter with Brendan, and we both agreed that he’s not the guy. Then Shay told me about her brother, her call to him, and a little about how hard it was when Dylan and her father left. The only reason she gave for them having to leave the country was that her dad was “wanted for questioning” in regards to his family’s business. The fact that they were in the middle of a divorce added to that. No matter what the circumstance, divorce is never easy, but too many times the kids are the ones who endure the lasting damage, and unfortunately, I can see that is the case with Shay.

“Maybe we should go?” I tell her, glancing around the room. I’m both surprised and grateful to have had this time with her after she was upset with me, but it’s probably best not to push it. “I’m sure someone will be along to kick us out soon.”

She nudges her shoulder against mine, as if we are back to normal…whatever that means for us. And I wonder if Shay’s just not capable of holding a grudge. “Let’s wait… Besides, you’re holding out on me.”

Narrowing my gaze, I say, “What’s that supposed to mean? I told you everything.”

“I don’t mean that.” Her eyes go to the piano keys and then bounce back up to my eyes. “I think you can play. You want to play, so why haven’t you?”

Damn…“How did you know?”

Her grin is so triumphant it’s all I can do to not kiss it away. “Guess your poker face ain’t so great, Brooks. I wondered when you sat here, and I can just see it in your face when you look at the keys.”

I blow out a breath, and damn if I don’t feel my cheeks heat a bit. This is why we need to keep shit professional. “Look, I’m on the clock. We might be sitting here talking but—”

A hard smack registers on my bicep. “Bullshit. I’m not leaving here until you play me a song. In fact, you owe me because you made me embarrass myself with my half-ass attempt, and the more you fight, the more I’m sure you’re great.”

One corner of my mouth kicks up before I can stop it. In all honesty, I miss playing. I miss the person—the carefree young man—I used to be when I did play. “You’re forcing my hand here, Shay, so I’ll play a little something, but that’s it.”

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