This time his smugness is laced with a subdued but genuine delight. And it hurts, weirdly. Somewhere behind my rib cage. He’s just so outrageously stunning.
There’s an almost stricken edge to my voice. “What else did you find out?”
“Just what I came across as I was looking into the business records. Your birth date happened to be listed on the company details.”
It makes me wonder if he knows anything about … the monster under my bed. But how could he? Secrets like that aren’t listed on Google. So I steer the conversation back towards him. “Is your family still in Ann Arbor?”
“My two brothers are. My parents checked out around five years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
It’s a weird way to put it. Checked out. And he seems uneasy with the subject. But then he says, “They were very much in love, right up until they died.”
I smile at him, sort of sadly. What a concept. “I’ve never met anyone in love.”
“Really?” Like this is shocking to him.
“No.”
He blinks at me. There’s a softness to his manner when he’s thinking about his family that clashes with the killer playboy side of him. “That’s too bad. Although I used to think love was overrated.”
I’m almost afraid to ask it. “Used to?”
He smiles, and for a split second his intensity reaches a place inside me most things don’t. A hidden place that’s not so much forgotten as never even discovered. “Yeah.”
But then I remember the woman he came to Key West to see. The models and the heiresses and the girls in the article who raved about his endowments then cried because he’s never there by morning. So I keep it light. “What do your brothers do in Ann Arbor?”
“Bo is still in college, studying business, playing quarterback. Like Caleb did before he joined up and deployed. And like I did.” This information hits me hard, right in the middle of my gut. He’s a quarterback. Of course he is. “Caleb just got back from a year in Afghanistan.”
“Oh. I’m … ” My heart is beating fast. I take a drink of my champagne and end up drinking half the glass.
Gage notices. “You okay?” He puts a big, warm palm on my bare arm, as though to calm me.
I try not to jerk away from him. I ease back until he’s no longer touching me. “I’m fine.” Except that he was a quarterback too. A quarterback who made sure I now have an unreasonable aversion to football, hometowns and, come to think of it, men in general. “Just, um … really thirsty.”
It was a long time ago, Luna. You really need to get over it.
Maybe I can’t. Maybe I’m just … broken.
I wait for my heartbeat to slow as he tops up my glass again. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”
I don’t want more champagne. I want to go back to my apartment. I want to vent to Josie. I want her to give back the money and cancel this whole thing.
But the limo pulls to a stop and I can see out the tinted windows that we’re in a back alley.
The driver is already opening the door for us.
“We’re here,” Gage says.
Inside, there’s already a crowd. It’s a large, funky venue with low ceilings and distressed wood that’s been decorated with license plates, maps, photos and retro Americana knickknacks. A long bar runs the full length of the left side of the room, where some of the barstools are already occupied. Around thirty square tables are crammed into the space, each with a little red lamp on it, and there’s a raised wooden stage in one corner. Roadies are tinkering with the sound system and beefy security guards are manning the front door. Outside its small, barred window I can see the crowd gathering.
“Where’s the band?” Gage asks one of the roadies, and the guy points to a doorway.
Gage stays close to me, in a way that could almost be … protective. He’s not as relaxed as he was before, not at all. He hasn’t touched me again since my mini-meltdown in the limo but he’s watching me. It makes me wonder if he gets things, like he has a radar for understanding that people come with baggage. Maybe because his brother is a soldier. Or because his parents “checked out.” There’s a story there I wouldn’t dream of asking about, but I could tell the whole topic was something that weighs heavily, not surprisingly.
We walk into another room, crowded with people and loud music, where there’s a pool table. I recognize them even before they see Gage.
It’s the Tucker Brothers Band.
Wow.
It’s crazy to walk into a room and see people whose music you’ve been listening to religiously for almost two years, standing here, playing pool. I listen to their music most nights as I’m falling asleep. Their melodies are inked into my brain at this point. Their songs dig deep and there have been many times when I’ve used their words to feel better and to lift myself up. Everyone gets the blues sometimes. Everyone feels things harder some days than others. Their music reminds me of that.
They’re even more good-looking in person than they are in their videos. Hot and edgy in a wholesome but rocket-fueled kind of way. Country boys with a rock and roll vibe.
But it’s a funny realization: Gage, as they man-hug him and pat him on the back, seems somehow even more technicolored. Larger than life and more in sync with my own emotions. Maybe because I’ve spent time with him. Or because I’ve detected things under his surface level that have affected me more deeply than I was expecting.
Don’t even think about it, girl. For you he spells heartbreak on steroids.
“Luna,” Gage says, gently grasping my arm with his warm hand again. This time, I allow it. “These are my cousins, Travis, Vaughn and Kade. Luna is my new business partner.” Gage is standing so close to me, if we were in a less crowded space I’d have the urge to step back. As it is, there’s something almost comforting about the way he’s so big and … shielding, in this crowded room full of people.
All three of them check out Gage’s “date”—me, not that I am his date, of course—with fascination. Like he’s never introduced someone to his cousins before.
Travis Tucker looks like he just stepped out of a wheat field. His hair is sun-lightened, his skin is tanned and his flannel shirt is worn in. His eyes are bright green. He’s got a laid-back, friendly smile that makes you wish you were from Nashville, because it must be a good place if it could produce a man like him, a down-home country boy with a talent-infused X-factor and good looks to write home about. Vaughn has black hair, bronzed skin, a lot of ink on his muscular arms and bright blue eyes. For all his colorfulness, he’s got a rough-edged recklessness to him that fits his reputation to a T. He’s the wild child of the group, the one who’s often in the headlines for his loose behavior, his stints in rehab and his genius on the drums. Kade has a different vibe altogether. His hair is longer than his brothers, also sun-bleached, and his eyes are just as blue, but at first impression he’s deeper and not as outgoing as the other two. I heard him described once as a “dreamy bad boy,” and the description fits. He’s soulful, even on the surface, and I happen to know that his songs are some of the most beautifully-written of any I’ve heard. It’s his lyrics that I’ve memorized most of all to find strength on those nights when I needed a little extra.