Chapter Five
Suspicious.
That’s the word that came to mind as Hannah stirred the simmering pot of taco soup on the stove and snuck another glance at Sherry and Arabella.
Normally, she wouldn’t have thought twice about two friends sitting so close together, especially as kind and loving as these women were. She’d gotten to know Sherry and Ella in the past two weeks of traveling, and while the concept of female friendship still made her a bit uneasy, Hannah knew they weren’t like the girls she’d grown up with. They weren’t whispering to exclude her, or gossiping to make her feel inferior. Frankly, she doubted either of them had a mean bone in their bodies.
What they did have, however, was a healthy dose of curiosity…and, when it came to Sherry Blue at least, a raging case of matchmaker-itis.
Two days had passed since the almost kiss with Deacon. Two days of him pretending that nothing had happened, two days of reminding herself that it really had (it hadn’t just been her imagination, dang it!), and two days of Sherry walking around like the cat that ate the canary.
Hannah hadn’t confirmed a thing, despite the other woman’s smug grin, but evidently that hadn’t mattered. Her new friend’s eyes had followed every hug, laugh, or accidental touch Hannah and Deacon had shared since, the wheels in her mind spinning visibly in the air. Still, Hannah had held back. As much as she could use help in the Deacon department, that level of trust just didn’t come easily for her.
Unfortunately, that left her floundering alone, and with zero direction on what step to take next. So far, the two times she’d been remotely successful—the lingerie incident and the almost kiss—had been moments of spontaneity. Not exactly the trustiest or easiest map to replicate, especially with the Harvest Moon Dance less than a month and a half away.
Hannah set down the spoon with a heavy sigh, and the exhale acted like a beacon for the other women. After exchanging a final glance, Sherry and Arabella stood in unison.
Ah, crap. That previous suspicion of hers just bloomed into full-fledged confirmation.
As her new friends approached, Hannah turned and walked to the kitchenette table. She made sure to keep her face calm as she sat down and tucked her hands beneath her thighs. She couldn’t show weakness. These women may be her friends, and for all Hannah knew the best matchmakers this side of the Mississippi, but what did either of them know about unrequited love, or wanting what you couldn’t have? They were gorgeous, talented, and had the men in their lives wrapped around their little fingers.
Nope, as sweet as it was that they were concerned about her love life, Hannah just couldn’t bring herself to admit how clueless and hopeless she truly was.
“So…we’ve been talking,” Sherry said, lowering herself onto the bench. Her face practically glowed with excitement. That didn’t make Hannah less nervous at all.
“Oh, yeah? What about?”
Arabella gave her a sheepish grin. “You, mostly. But you’ve got to understand, Sherry can’t help herself. When she sees two people meant to be together, she jumps in with both feet. As one of her many satisfied customers, I guess I want everyone as happy as Charlie and I are, too.”
That got Hannah’s attention.
“What do you mean, satisfied customer?” Surely, Arabella hadn’t needed Sherry’s help. What man on God’s green earth wouldn’t want to be with her?
“Sherry played Cupid this summer when she saw me pathetically mooning over Charlie,” she confirmed. “That man was as stubborn as Deacon is now. If it wasn’t for her help, I doubt we ever would’ve gotten our act together.”
“Sure you would have,” Sherry cut in, bumping Ella’s shoulder. “Eventually. I just pushed things along, is all.” Glancing at Hannah she said, “I have the patience of a hummingbird when it comes to love.”
Arabella rolled her eyes. “That she does. But trust me, it’s worth it. Sherry knows what she’s doing. As for me, I’m great with making plans and moral support, even just as a listening ear from someone who’s been there.”
Still shocked that Arabella and Charlie, two people so perfect for each other they could be wedding cake toppers, had a rough start, Hannah shook her head. “Been where?”
Deny, deny, deny. That was her game plan.
An ineffective one, judging from Sherry’s wide smile. “Oh, Hannah.” She tsked. “You can’t kid a kidder. I saw what happened the other night…or what could’ve happened, if Deacon didn’t have his head stuck up his ass. That man’s blind to what’s sitting right in front of him.” She exchanged a glance with Arabella.
“And that’s where we come in,” the manager said.
Hannah winced. While a big part of her did sort of want to throw her hands in the air and beg for advice, she was torn. Clearly, these women knew a thing or two about love. They were blissfully paired with their own country rockers, and it even sounded as though Ella understood where she was coming from. But the other part of her remembered the last time she’d trusted someone with her feelings.
As if reading her mind, Sherry stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry. “Please don’t tell me you’re gonna stick with the whole ‘just friends’ story. What do we look like here, amateurs?”
Arabella smirked. “Easy, mama. I think the baby’s hungry.” Snatching a granola bar from the snack basket, she tossed it at Sherry and sent Hannah a wink. “Excuse her. Love is her mission field, and she’s gone too long between feedings.”
Sherry pursed her lips, but then nodded in agreement and tore into the bar, taking a big old bite with a smile. “See? Patience of a hummingbird.”
Arabella scooted forward on the bench. “Listen, Hannah, I didn’t see what happened the other night, but I have watched you and Deacon orbit each other the last couple weeks. I’ve got to say…friends don’t look at each other the way you two do.”
“I see the way you look at him.”
With just those simple words, Hannah was back in high school.
The cushioned bench beneath her thighs faded away, and the fancy tour bus transformed into her childhood bedroom. Arabella’s long brown hair gave way to a stylish blonde pixie cut, and her sweet smile was replaced with feigned sympathy.
“I see the way you look at him,” Krista said, placing a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. The thin blouse she’d purchased with her own money at Walmart scratched across her skin. “You’ve got to know Deke will never think of you that way. He sees you as…as a sister. Almost like…a puppy.” Krista tilted her head and looked down at her with pity. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
A soft touch on her hand snapped Hannah back to the present, and she blinked.
Arabella smiled at her kindly. “You know, not too long ago, I was right where you are. Charlie and I were friends first, too.” She thought a moment. “Actually, first I obsessed over him for years while he saw me as nothing but a kid. Then we were friends, neighbors, and coworkers. That’s when Sherry got her hands on us.” She sighed wistfully in thought, then mused aloud, “I think friendships make for the best relationships.”
“Totally,” Sherry agreed, pressing an index finger against the foil wrapper to collect all the crumbs. “Ty and I did things crazy. We got married first, became friends second, and then fell in love, but we’re more the exception than the rule. The best love stories always start with friendship.” She licked her finger and grinned. “Luke and Lorelai, Joey and Pacey, Harry and Sally. And don’t even get me started on my books. That’s my favorite trope by far.”
As Sherry went on to prove exactly that, listing her favorite book couples on her fingers without either of them asking, a strange new sensation swirled in Hannah’s belly.
Experience had taught her that sharing her heart, at least with other women, only led to broken hearts and broken friendships. But a new voice, a much louder one, was challenging her to try again. These women were different. More than that, she’d vowed to start being open to new experiences. Doing so meant leaving the past behind.
With that in mind, Hannah released a deep breath and announced, “I’m in love with Deacon.”
Sherry paused in her book listing to stare blankly ahead, and Arabella just sat there.
“I’m guessing that’s rather obvious, huh?” Twin splotches of heat warmed her cheeks, and she glanced at the table. “Technically, I’ve been in love with him for ten years. So long, I can’t even remember what it’s like not being in love with him.” She laughed softly and raised her eyes. “Man, that actually feels really good to say out loud.”
Arabella smiled and rested her chin in her hands. “Do you think he’s ever suspected?”
She shook her head. “I doubt it. I don’t think Deacon believes he’s worthy of love. He doesn’t exactly see himself the way other people do.”
“What kept you from ever saying anything?” Sherry wanted to know.
Hannah lifted a shoulder. “Because it wouldn’t have made a difference.” Looking down at her simple blouse and shorts, she said, “Why would he have gone for a plain Jane like me when he could have had any girl he wanted?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she deadpanned. “Maybe because he loves you, too?”
Both women wore matching looks of exasperation, and Hannah scrubbed a hand across her face. She couldn’t blame them for not understanding. They didn’t know. They hadn’t been there.
“Of course Deacon loves me,” she admitted. “He loved me back in high school, too, I suppose. But he’s never been in love with me. He’s never seen me that way. How could he, when he was constantly having to defend me? That’s not sexy. That’s not the kind of girl a guy can walk down the hall with and feel proud to have on his arm.”
Pressure mounted in her sinuses, but Hannah refused to cry. She was no longer that girl. She’d come a long way, dammit. But that didn’t change the truth, and maybe once Sherry and Ella knew everything, they would understand.
“Deacon didn’t want someone like me. He wanted what every guy in high school wants: the beautiful, popular, confident cheerleader.”
Arabella’s sweet face pinched. “Seriously? I can’t see that. Not that he isn’t hot, or that cheerleaders wouldn’t want him. It’s the opposite, actually. But I still can’t picture him with the pom-pom crowd.”
“Picture it,” Hannah murmured, hiding her pain with a smile. “Not just any cheerleader either. The queen of the cheerleaders.” She sighed. “Sad part is that I can’t even be upset about it. If Deacon hadn’t fallen for Krista, then we wouldn’t have Max.”
Awareness dawned in Sherry’s eyes. “So Queen B is Max’s mystery mom?”
“The one and the same,” Hannah confirmed.
As that nugget sank in, she shoved her fingers through her strawberry-blonde curls. She could stop there. Now that Sherry and Ella understood her history better, they could probably fill in the remaining gaps on their own. But Hannah found that she didn’t want to stop. Now that she was finally talking about it, the whole story came pouring out.
“Krista was actually my friend first,” she shared. “At the time, I even thought she was the female equivalent of Deacon. Someone who saw past my verbal tics and loser reputation, and genuinely liked me.” She rolled her eyes. “Looking back, I missed all the signs. I think I was just so desperate for acceptance that I let her walk all over me.”
Ultimately, that stung the most. Knowing what a pathetic doormat she’d been.
“There was one time in high school I actually did think about telling him how I felt. Junior year, right before the Harvest Festival, I had this crazy fantasy of Deacon and me going to the dance together.” Hannah smiled to herself. A crazy fantasy she carried to this day. “Anyway, I must’ve acted too interested in the details or something, because somehow Krista figured out that I wanted to go. Once she knew that, it didn’t take rocket science to deduce who I wanted to go with.”
The painful memory washed over her again, and Hannah stared down at the table.
“Krista sat me down on my bed and convinced me not to tell him. She said that Deacon would never think of me that way, and telling him would only get me hurt.” Hannah raised her eyes and gave a pained smile. “Of course, the next day she went and asked him herself.”
“That bitch!”
Anger clouded Sherry’s face. Her cheeks were red, her lips curled. Arabella’s jaw hung open in disbelief. Strangely enough, it felt good to see these women having her back.
“Want to know what made it worse?” She laughed when they both gave a horrified nod. “I was the one who hooked them up. Deacon asked me what I thought about her, if he should take her to the dance, and I so badly wanted to tell him no. But by then Krista had fed into every insecurity I had. What good would it have done to keep them apart? It wasn’t like I was going to have him, and I wanted him to be happy.” Hannah’s shoulders drooped with a sigh. “Of course, Krista ended up breaking his heart anyway, so I guess that’s on me, too.”
“Damn,” Arabella muttered, staring blankly ahead. “It’s like an episode of 90210. I thought I’d seen it all, growing up in the music business. I’ve dealt with divas and drama like you wouldn’t believe…but that girl puts them to shame.”
“You don’t even know the half of it,” she murmured.
“Whatever happened to her?” Sherry asked. “The only thing Deacon has ever said is she’s not a part of their lives, which is why she isn’t listed on any of the insurance forms.”
“No, she wouldn’t be,” Hannah said with a sigh. “Krista abandoned them at the hospital.”
As the girls gasped, the shock of that day washed over her like it was yesterday.
“She checked herself out early and skipped town, leaving Deacon with a newborn baby to raise. She didn’t even bother with a note. Krista blamed him for ruining her modeling career…the girl worked two freaking fashion shows at JC Penney!”
Hannah rolled her eyes, feeling her long-held anger rising again. “Obviously, Deacon didn’t get her pregnant all by himself, and it’s not like they hadn’t been careful. He swore they always used protection. Guess that ninety-nine percent effective warning exists for a reason. Regardless, Krista lost her catalog job, and Deacon took the blame. When she left, the guilt just piled on.”
He’d always been quick to think the worst of himself and shoulder the guilt of any situation. Some days, it seemed like those shoulders held the weight of the world. It was yet another reason she’d nicknamed him Superman when they were kids.
“Quite honestly, it was a miracle she even went through with the pregnancy,” she told them. “She never wanted to be a mom. But from the second Deacon heard Max’s heartbeat during the ultrasound, he was all in. I’ve never seen a child more loved or wanted.”
It hadn’t been easy watching the man she loved get excited over having a baby with another woman, especially a conniving wench like Krista, but she understood it. Children were a blessing, Max especially. He gave Deacon the family he’d always wanted. Someone he could love and who’d unconditionally love him right back. Hannah and her parents had given him that for years, but it was easier to accept from his own flesh and blood. That’s why she couldn’t completely hate Krista. As horrible as she was, she’d given them Max.
Sherry rubbed her swollen belly, a sad frown marring her face. “I can’t imagine a mother abandoning her child. And Deacon…he must’ve been overwhelmed, raising Max on his own. He could’ve only been, what, twenty-two?”
“Yeah,” Hannah confirmed, thinking back on how he’d stepped up to the plate, no questions asked. “But he was never alone. I was always there.”
“And you still are.”
Arabella stared across from her with a new depth in her gaze, and as Hannah took in the women she now counted as friends, she realized she felt lighter than she had in years. The bus fell quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts, and Hannah welcomed the silence. It hadn’t been easy, baring her heart like that, but she was glad that she had.
Now if only she could do the same with Deacon.
After a moment, Arabella dropped her hands to the table. “I know what it’s like being trapped in the friend zone. Hell, I lived it for months after living in the ‘cute kid’ zone for years. Charlie knew me as the girl with headgear, acne, and a training bra.” She leveled Hannah with a look. “If I can overcome that, you can overcome anything.”
Hannah’s uncertainty must’ve read on her face because she quickly added, “I’m not saying it’ll happen overnight or that it wasn’t hard putting myself out there. It was. Scary, too. But I realized if I didn’t do it, I’d always wonder what if.”
The tiny hairs on Hannah’s arms tingled to life. It was as if she had a peephole into her brain. “Funny you should say that…it’s actually why I came back.”
“To go after Deacon?” At her small nod of confirmation, Sherry lifted her hands in the air and praised, “Hallelujah!”
“It’s like Arabella said, I couldn’t stop wondering what would’ve happened if I’d told Deacon how I felt instead of running away to Paris. It’s not like the distance helped me get over him, or time changed anything. When I decided to come back, I vowed I’d make a real go of it. See if we could have a future.” Glancing between them, Hannah scrunched her nose and went for broke. “I even have a name for it: Operation Find My Happy.”
Sherry clapped her hands and did a little shimmy. “Oh my God, I love it!”
“Me, too,” Arabella declared with a grin. “And you deserve to be happy, Hannah. So does Deacon.”
“That’s all I ever wanted,” she said, almost sheepishly. “To be the one who makes him that way.”
As Arabella’s sweet face lit from within, Sherry’s face did the opposite. Her forehead creased, her lips flattened, and her purple-painted fingernails began to tap, tap, tap, on the table.
Arabella snickered. “This is what I like to call Sherry’s plotting face.”
She scrunched her nose. “Should I be worried?”
“Nah,” she replied, waving away her concern. “Like I said, she’s good at what she does.”
Hannah’s stomach fluttered as those nails made another rhythmic round, then Sherry sat up tall in her seat, a smile to rival the Grinch crossing her pink glossy lips.
Evidently, Sherry had an idea. An awful idea.
Sherry had a wonderful, awful idea.
“Music men,” she declared, as if addressing a crowded lecture hall, “can be particularly difficult when it comes to love, but I’ve seen the way Deacon looks at you. All he needs is a good nudge or two, and he’ll get his head on straight. Mark my words.” With a pointed look at Arabella she said, “Ready to help me nudge?”
“Count me in,” she replied. “I love seeing love win. It reaffirms my belief in humanity.” Her hope-filled sigh ended with a frown. “Besides, I could use a good distraction.”
Immediately, the momentum shifted, and Sherry spun on her seat. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Arabella tried for a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m sure I’m overreacting. Charlie’s just been acting a little strange lately, that’s all. I don’t know.” Her shoulder rose and fell. “It almost feels like he’s hiding something?”
Her voice lifted at the end, like she was asking rather than telling, and the rare glimpse of vulnerability made Hannah want to wrap the band manager in her arms.
“I know it’s not another woman,” she told them, swinging her gaze to Hannah. “Charlie’s not the playboy the tabloids pegged him to be. He’d never be unfaithful. It’s probably all in my head, and I’m making problems where there aren’t any.” Arabella licked her lips and looked away. “Or…maybe he’s bored with me.”
Sherry wrapped an arm around her friend’s slender shoulder. “Not possible.”
“No way,” Hannah agreed. “That man is gone over you. Completely bonkers. If he’s acting weird, it may just be that he’s distracted with the tour. I know Deacon’s stressed.”
“Tyler, too. This is their biggest tour yet, and the weight of the world is on their shoulders. They’ve worked for so long to get here and it’s finally happening. I’m sure that’s what it is.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Arabella forced a smile. “But if so, that’s even more reason why I need a distraction. As Blue’s manager, if anything goes wrong, I’m the one responsible. I can’t stress about that and Charlie. I need to focus on something else. Something happy.”
Sherry side-eyed her friend, clearly still concerned, but said aloud, “A dose of new love is definitely that. And a happily ever after project will distract me from my swollen ankles.”
“Then it’s settled,” she said, rolling back her shoulders as the last traces of worry fled her pretty eyes. “Two nudges, ready for service. Deacon won’t know what hit him.”
Looking across the table, Hannah almost felt overwhelmed.
Other than Deacon, no one had ever offered her such easy acceptance and friendship. Granted, she had a strong hunch Sherry’s matchmaking methods were going to be far outside her wheelhouse, but they had to be better than what she was doing now. Plus, it’d be good to have a plan, and this way she’d no longer be alone in the battle.
Releasing a shaky breath, Hannah swallowed her fear and looked her new friends in the eyes. “Okay. Let’s do it. From this moment on, my love life—or what there is of it—is in your capable hands. I’m eager to learn from the love masters.”
Sherry whooped and from the excitement on her face, you’d have thought Hannah just announced it was raining chocolate cupcakes. As for Arabella, she appeared ready to tackle the world. Yanking a pad of paper and pen from her purse, she wrote at the top Hannah’s Top Ten Ways to Land a Stubborn Fiddler, then looked to Sherry for the first entry.
“Dear young padawan, your decision pleases us greatly,” Ms. Cupid proclaimed with mock seriousness, earning a giggle from them both. She raised her eyes to the clock on the wall, and after a quick calculation on her fingers, gave a sharp nod. “The timing will be tight, but it’ll work. Quick ladies, go get dressed, and make it sexy. We’ve got ourselves a stubborn music man to awaken!”
…
If anyone had told Deacon three years ago that he’d look forward to a night spent watching Hallmark television, he’d have said they were certifiable. Sappy love crap and implausible plots weren’t his brand of whiskey, but they did it for Hannah. She went nuts for that stuff, and after a long-ass day, nothing sounded better to him than having his son in his arms, a beer in his hand, and his best girl happily seated beside him.
Damn, he felt ancient. His back ached, his legs were stiff, and there was a strange twitch over his left eye. Maybe the crew had him pegged right with that “mister” stuff, but hell if the extra work he’d been putting in wasn’t worth it. Tonight’s lesson was with the audio techs, getting a better understanding of what went on behind the scenes. Grasping the ins and outs of the crew’s daily challenges would help him up his game on stage—and that would help him get the label’s attention.
Unfortunately, it also had him dead on his feet, ready for a dose of Hannah’s calm. But that’s what Hallmark was for. Unfortunately, as he shuffled the last remaining steps to the door, sounds the opposite of serenity reached his ears.
“One more time!”
“Okay, buddy,” Deacon heard Charlie say as he tugged open the door. “Here you go. Whoosh! You’re a master with a Nerf basketball. Now, don’t you have some G.I. Joes or something we can play with?”
“No. One more time!”
As Deacon reached the top of the stairs, he saw the bassist send his son a look. “I feel like you said that the last ten times, and you were lying. Ever heard of the boy who cried wolf?”
“Reasoning with a two-year-old?” Tyler asked him with a chuckle. He had an orange food substance smeared down the front of his white shirt and his daughter Lizzie in the highchair in front of him. “You really think that’s gonna get you anywhere?”
“Think you can do better, Chef Boyardee? All right, let’s switch. I’ll take over feeding the princess, and you lift this sack of potatoes over and over again.” Charlie pointed at Max, who planted his fists on his hips.
“Me not a sack. Me Max.” He held the foam basketball in the air. “One more time!”
Deacon’s forehead furrowed in confusion as he made his presence known. “What on earth is going on in here?”
Bending down, he scooped Max into his arms and glanced around the bus. Toys were scattered everywhere, a bowl of Goldfish was turned over on the table, and the women were nowhere to be found. “Where’re Hannah and Sherry?”
“Getting ready,” Tyler answered, lifting a spoonful of Spaghetti-O’s to Lizzie’s mouth. “They wanted to have a Girls Night so I volunteered us to watch the kids.” He widened his eyes at his daughter and made a yummy noise. “Come on, this is good. Uncle Charlie and I used to live on this back in the day.”
“Ahh, yes,” Charlie muttered. “The good old days.” He turned to Deacon and said, “Be thankful you missed those days. It wasn’t pretty.”
“Girls Night, huh?” Max tugged on Deacon’s face, and he gave his son a smile, trying to hide his disappointment.
Hannah deserved to have some fun. She’d been cooped up inside the bus for three weeks, surrounded by colors, cheese crackers, and nonstop cartoons. Going out for a night of adult conversation and laughs was probably just what she needed to relax and unwind…but damn it, he wanted to be the one to take her. He’d missed out on enough with her as it was.
Seriously? An inner voice mocked. First Max, now Sherry and Arabella. Who will you be jealous of next…Lizzie?
Okay, fine. He was being ridiculous. He was genuinely glad Hannah was making friends, and besides, if he had any shot of convincing her to stick around after the U.S. leg of the tour, he had to let her see the bus wasn’t a prison cell. Maybe Girls Night was the answer.
It could even be fun, hanging back with the guys tonight.
Palming the Nerf basketball, Deacon turned to his son. “Want Daddy to teach you some of his tricks?”
Max nodded and looked at him like he was his hero.
Yeah, this wouldn’t be so bad. Bending his knees, Deacon shifted his hold on Max so he could throw unencumbered, then sprang into the air and threw. Nothing but net.
“And the crowd goes wild!”
Deacon grinned at the familiar cheer, and he turned around to tell his number one fan that yep, he still had it. Only, the words got stuck in his throat.
Hannah’s black dress…if you could even call it a dress…fit her body like a second skin. It was sleeveless, hit mid-thigh, and plunged low in the front. Holy hell low. Deacon slowly lowered his son to the floor. Her hair was swept up on one side, soft curls cascading over her right shoulder, and she’d done something to her eyes that made them stand out like emeralds.
She was beautiful.
The sound of a throat clearing snapped Deacon out of his stunned perusal, and after sweeping his gaze across the other two women, equally decked out, he said the first thing that popped into his head. “Are y’all going out trolling?”
Hannah’s soft smile fell as she shifted in her heels. Immediately, her hands fell to the hem of her dress, fidgeting uncomfortably, and all her confidence drained beneath her feet. Deacon wanted to shoot himself in the head.
Cursing, he stepped forward and bent low to catch her eyes. “Ye look breathtaking,” he told her, adding a touch of Irish brogue to his voice—but a Liam Neeson he was not. “Dat should’ve been the first thing out of my mouth. I guess I was just picturin’ a different sort of Girls Night.”
A hint of a smile hit her lips, and Deacon turned to the guys for backup. Shockingly, they appeared completely fine with the girls’ plans…though they did give him strange looks about his awful accent.
Was he seriously alone in freaking out here?
“Do you at least know where you’re going?” he asked, glancing at the women. “We only rolled into West Virginia this morning. Maybe it’d be better if I came along, too, just to keep an eye out.”
Sherry snorted. “You plan on bringing Max with you?” she asked with a sassy smile, and Deacon knew she had him beat.
Charlie and Tyler both raised their palms. It’d be a jerk move, asking them to watch his son while he went out to a bar. Max was a great kid, but he had endless energy. Even now, he was twirling in a circle, stopping to bang his head on the leather couch, then twirling again—over and over. Deacon had no doubt he could drive the guys insane if wanted to, and that was the opposite of the impression he wanted to make. He was trying to come across as irreplaceable to the band—not a mooch.
But how in the hell was ultra-protective Tyler, and super-whipped Charlie okay with sending them off on their own? Especially looking like that?
Sherry walked over to Tyler and kissed him lightly on the lips, then she grinned and ruffled Lizzie’s hair. As Arabella told Charlie good-bye, Sherry sat on her husband’s lap.
“Cool your jets, D-man. Tyler already asked Tony to come with us. An Uber is gonna bring us to the club, and we’ll have another one bring us back later. Your girl will be safe, I promise.”
Tony. A tall, quiet man with dark hair and bulging biceps came to mind. Blue had a few security guys on staff, but Tony was Sherry’s personal bodyguard. He’d been on the payroll for years. Deacon raised his eyebrows, silently asking Tyler if the man of no words was married or not, and the front man subtly shook his head.
Great. Sherry was married, and Charlie had Arabella halfway down the aisle. That left Hannah as the only one single.
For the last three weeks, Deacon had been ignoring the signs. Pretending he hadn’t noticed the changes since she’d come back from Paris, or how she’d blossomed with a newfound confidence. He didn’t want to think about what that meant for the future of their friendship. Hannah deserved love and happiness, but he was selfish enough to stick his head in the sand and act like he could keep her as his trusty sidekick forever. That wasn’t real life, as that moment of tension two nights ago proved, and it sure as hell wasn’t fair to her. But he’d be damned if he let a muscle-headed bodyguard steal her away, either.
Unfortunately, no one else seemed to see it his way, and he was fresh out of alternatives.
Arabella walked past him with a strange, almost gleeful look on her face and opened the bus door. Hannah gave him a shy smile, then fell in step behind her.
“Cherry.”
Hannah glanced at him over her shoulder.
The setting sun streamed through the open door, hitting her strawberry-blonde hair and setting it on fire. Deacon’s chest tightened at just how beautiful she was. As he stood there silent like a jackass, wondering how he’d never noticed that before, a row of perfect white teeth clamped down on her candy-coated bottom lip. A lip he’d almost tasted before they’d been interrupted. The vivid memory nearly knocked the wind out of him.
What in the hell was happening?
Clearing his throat—hoping it cleared that errant thought right along with it—he said, “Ah, just be careful, all right?”
Hannah’s sea-green eyes seemed to search his for some sort of answer. The hell of it was, Deacon had no clue as to the question. Whatever it was, though, she must’ve found what she was looking for because a bright smile sprang free just before she turned and ducked out the door.
While he silently watched where she’d disappeared, Sherry stopped beside him.
“She’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Tony’s the best in the business. Tyler wouldn’t have hired him otherwise.”
Deacon blew out a breath. She was right about that. Tony was a professional; he wouldn’t act inappropriately with Hannah, because it could cost him a sweet job. The tension knotting his gut lessened a degree. At least Tony would be there to keep other guys from overstepping their bounds, too, and it wasn’t as if the girls were going man-hunting anyway. They just wanted to blow off some steam.
“Besides,” Sherry continued. “Ella and I will help Hannah filter the creepos from the hotties. As loyal wing-women, we’ll find only the best for our girl.”
Deacon’s eyes snapped to hers. “Wait, what?”
She shot him a smug little smirk, then blew a kiss to her husband.
“Don’t wait up,” she called in a sing-song voice, and with that parting shot, followed her friends outside.