Page 103 of On The Rocks

“I had to ask. He’s a big fan.”

“How did he even see us?” I asked. “We’re practically in the dark.”

“Bridger notices everything. He clocked you coming in during the previous set. He almost came out to see you but one of his ex-girlfriends is in the crowd tonight. He didn’t want a scene.”

“Tell him I appreciate the invite, but I’m good.”

Josh looked pained.

I leaned into Griffin. “I’ll work on him.”

Relief rolled over his face. “Thanks. You guys have a good night.”

Griffin gave me the arched brow this time. “Throwing me under the bus?”

I laughed. “I kinda want to see you up there.”

“Since when?”

I turned in my seat to look at him. “You don’t talk much about your music. Sometimes I hear you playing in the middle of the night, but that’s about it.”

He turned and took my hand, playing with my fingers. “It’s like my music turned off when the band broke up.”

“Not all the way off if I hear you playing at night.” I laced our fingers together. “So, why don’t you go up there? I’m sure he won’t make you play a Reversal of Fortune song.” I pitched my voice low on the last bit to make sure the nosy people around us didn’t hear if he really wanted to keep things a secret.

“You really want to see me up there?”

“Of course I do. Hot dude I’m with plays guitar?” I fanned my face with my free hand. “Lord have mercy.”

“All right, that’s enough.”

I fluttered my lashes. “But Griffin, when you play your guitar, it makes my loins ache.”

He laughed. “You really wouldn’t mind me leaving you here alone?”

“I’m coming up to fan girl at the front, what are you talking about?”

He gave me a hard kiss on the mouth. “Fine.”

“Goodie.” I did a light clap and smiled.

He stood and threaded his way around the tables where we were, then he spent time along the side wall of the club. He spoke to the guy guarding the hallway, then he quickly disappeared.

I finished my drink, then I moved into the crowd of women congregating in front of the stage. My cowboy boots and clingyblack dress fit right in with the uber fans. In fact, I might have been overdressed, compared to some of them. There was a whole lot of lace and flesh showing on most of them.

I didn’t think groupies were still a thing—boy, was I wrong.

The lights dimmed and slowly, I moved my way around bony arms and sharp elbows to get to the edge of the stage. I rested my arms on the top of an amp or speaker and got out of the crush of bodies.

A single spotlight flicked on to show Bridger on a stool, his cowboy boot heel resting on the lower rung, and a golden-toned guitar rested against his body. His long hair fell forward to cover half his face. He slowly started strumming, but instead of singing, he started talking. “When I was twelve, I heard this song. It literally drove me into my brother’s room to steal his guitar.” He grinned against the microphone. “He only got it to get girls. Never actually learned to play.”

The crowd laughed.

“But there was this song that made it sound like a good idea. I never put it down after that. That song was ‘This Old Tattoo’.”

A murmur in the crowd turned into applause.

“You should know it. It was blasting out of every car radio back when we still listened to the radio. And I have a special surprise. The man who made me pick up a guitar is here tonight.”

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