Page 102 of On The Rocks

And it helped me recalibrate, and I relaxed as the conversations in the room dimmed, and they started listening to Bridger Everette. He was curled over his acoustic guitar and his smoky voice slowly filled the room with his soulful lyrics about not really knowing his partner.

I glanced over at Griffin, allowing me to truly see him in his element.

I’d seen the helpful man who gave his time and his strength to both the Mannings and the taproom staff. Unpaid, he still threw himself into every project that came up. Whether it was building or helping out in the kitchen or in the dining room. He never complained, and he always seemed happy to be part of a whole.

But here, it was just Griffin.

It was a look inside the man who’d been formed by music.

Lightly, he stroked my thigh as one song slid into the next. The vibe was similar for all of them, but there was a good mixof high tempo and syrupy thick ballads that had more than one woman in the room swooning.

I took a few short videos, especially of the sing-a-long song that had the entire bar in an uproar.

The drinks were free-flowing, and the mood was high. Since Griffin was driving, I let myself enjoy a few of the well drinks. It gave me ideas for a cheap night at the taproom. We didn’t overprice our drinks, but we were definitely on the bougie end for cider and Hayes’ spirits were a damn high-quality alcohol.

But the Irish Car Bombs with a cider twist had definitely been a fan favorite during our St. Paddy’s Day night.

There was a quick break in the set, as Griffin turned to me. “That was unexpected. I’m not sure how he’s still playing in a dive.”

“I can’t find him on social media. That might be one reason. Jess will be changing that if she has any say in the matter.”

“I will too. And I’m no social media guy, but as soon as he’s seen, he’ll have a damn deal, that’s for sure.”

“You going to turn into an agent, ace?”

“Fuck, no.”

I laughed and leaned into him, draping my arm over his shoulder. “Getting itchy to pick up your guitar?”

He laughed and met me in the middle. The kiss was smoky as I tasted whiskey on his tongue. We were in a dark corner, and I let myself fall into the kiss. The music had gotten under my skin, making me bolder.

“Jesus, if you keep that up, I’m going to haul you back outside.”

I laughed against his mouth. “Sorry. Music has me riled up. And this very shitty whiskey that is going down far too smoothly.”

“It tastes damn good on your lips.” He went in for another kiss then he buried his face in my neck.

Someone cleared their throat, and we broke apart.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt.” The guy had a head full of curls and his ruddy face told of his acute embarrassment. “Um, are you Griffin St. James?” He pitched his voice higher at the end.

Griffin wiped a thumb over his lower lip. “Yes. Who’s asking?”

“I’m Josh Merrit, Bridger’s manager.” He held out a hand.

Griffin arched a brow at him, and I was actually surprised that he wasn’t going to shake his hand. I pinched him in the side, and he gave me a salty look before clasping the man’s hand. “What can I do for you?”

“Bridger was wondering if you wanted to come up and play.”

“Oh.” He looked uncomfortable, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Go on.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He glanced around, and I followed his gaze to find a few people murmuring around us.

For all the weeks we’d been together, I’d never been with him when someone had recognized him. I caught someone lifting their phone to take a photo.

Griffin barely noticed, but he did straighten his shoulders and put a protective hand around my back.

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