If the wall hadn’t been behind her, Scarlett would’ve slid to the porch. Her legs quivered like Jell-O. Confrontation always made her feel this way. She’d used profanity. She hated when she did that. It was so…improper. One more thing to lay at Gavin Bain’s feet and another reason she needed to get rid of him.

Before she could, a shiny red convertible careened down the dirt driveway, kicking up dust like a crimson tornado. It skidded to a stop, spraying gravel into the air. A diminutive dynamo, in a power suit and Jimmy Choo heels, sprang from the driver’s seat and marched up the sidewalk. Her short black tresses fluttered with every step she took.

Scarlett closed her eyes and exhaled the lungful of air she’d been holding since Gavin and his attorney arrived. She’d never been so happy or surprised to see anyone in her life. Everything would be okay now.

“Scarlett Rose Kelly, don’t say another blessed word.” Her best friend and attorney climbed the three steps to the porch and nodded to both men as she handed them a card. “Luanne Price. I’m Scarlett’s attorney.”

She zeroed in on Scarlett’s bruised cheek. “What the hell happened to your face?” Her mouth thinned, and she shot Gavin an accusatory look.

Scarlett took an involuntary step in front of Gavin. “Calm down, Luanne. I fell.”

A warm hand slid over her hip and lightly patted her behind. A soft whisper blew across her neck. “How’s your butt, tattoo girl?”

Her humiliation reminded her it was boys against girls, and he was the enemy. A low masculine chuckle chased her back to the ladies’ side of the porch.

When she looked at Gavin, he shrugged and grinned. How could a man as unholy sexy as him manage to look like a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar?

“Ms. Price, I’m Jack Avery, Mr. Bain’s attorney, and manager.” He extended his hand and offered her a professional smile. “I’m sure you understand this situation is time sensitive. The story is being reported by the media, and your client’s erratic behavior has only served to fuel their curiosity. My client’s reputation could be irreparably damaged because of this marriage and its inevitable conclusion.”

Luanne snorted. “Your client once tried to drown Paris Hilton and kidnapped her dog. By comparison, a quickie marriage in Vegas seems somewhat tame.”

“To be fair,” Gavin interjected, “I only provided the diversion, Johnny stole the dog.”

“You call a near drowning a diversion?” Scarlett was appalled.

“No.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. “Johnny hated that chick. He especially hated the way she carried that poor dog around all the time. It made him nuts, I mean, he was really obsessed. So, we were at the same party as Paris one night, and he decides to rescue…what was that damn dog’s name?” He snapped his fingers a few times. “It doesn’t mat—”

“Tinkerbelle!”

Gavin grinned at Scarlett. “Yeah, Tinkerbelle.”

His remarkable eyes crinkled at the corners when he grinned.

“Like I was saying, we see Paris at this party, and Johnny says he’s going to rescue Tinkerbelle, but he needed a diversion. So I pushed her into the pool. Johnny grabbed the dog and ran. I tried to help Paris out of the water, but I was load—um, not at my best and kept losing my grip. By the time they got her out, Johnny was halfway to Tijuana with Tinkerbelle.” His self-deprecating smile was so adorable she couldn’t help but smile.

She was in so much trouble.

Luanne looked at Jack. “I think we can agree Mr. Bain’s reputation precedes him.”

“Be that as it may, your client ran from Mr. Bain’s hotel room with a marriage license and wedding photos. She’s uncooperative, argumentative, and irrational. Not to mention her ridiculous threat of castration.”

Luanne looked to Scarlett for confirmation.

Scarlett nodded, and Luanne winked at her.

“Good God. There are two of them,” Gavin muttered.

“Don’t worry Mr. Bain.” Luanne fixed her gaze on the other lawyer. “Only one of us is truly capable of castration.”

Jack zeroed in on Luanne like a hungry lion who’d found a playmate. “Ms. Kelly’s emotional outbursts have cost us time, and she’s refusing to meet with us.”

“That’s not true. I said I would meet you somewhere other than the front porch of my family’s house.” Scarlett’s voice rose with every word.

Jack gestured to Scarlett, as if to present exhibit A. “Do you see what I mean?”

“I’m curious Counselor, how exactly is she supposed to act? You’ve accosted my client at her home, insulted her, and if my guess is correct, intimidated her. I wouldn’t be surprised if you threatened to huff and puff and blow her house down, Mr. Avery.” Luanne crossed her arms and gave Jack the stink eye. “Am I right?”

Jack smiled slightly. It appeared he was enjoying this little sparring match. “I assure you Ms. Price, Mr. Bain and I only want what’s best for Ms. Kelly.”

The flash of guilt in Gavin’s eye told Scarlett an ambush was exactly what they’d intended.

“I’ll worry about what’s best for my client,” Luanne said. “You worry about yours.”

Jack leaned his butt against the porch railing and crossed his arms like he hadn’t a care in the world. “Ms. Price, you bring up a good point. You see, the intricacies of this case are very specific. How much experience do you have in matters such as this? Ms. Kelly’s interest might be better served if her attorney had a skill set that includes something other than the litigation of a stolen mule.”

“Mrs. Bain.” Luanne matched his nonchalant pose as she leaned against the outer wall of the house.

“I beg your pardon?”

Luanne looked down her nose at the other lawyer, which was no small feat. Even in her five-inch heels, she was still four inches shorter than him. “My client is now Mrs. Bain.”

“I suppose so—”

“Also, I have every confidence in my ability to understand the ‘intricacies’ of this case. I have a great deal of experience dealing with complicated matters of law, Mr. Avery. For example, I’ve done a quick mental analysis of the Texas Penal Code and have deduced that your sorry hide isn’t worth twenty-five to life. So, you get to live.” She smiled her best man-eater smile.

Jack ducked his head but not before Scarlett saw a grin and flash of teeth.

Gavin uttered an obscenity that blistered the air. He stood with hands on hips staring at the ground like it had just occurred to him that he was actually married.

Welcome to my world, dude. Now run around Las Vegas without your panties and tell me how you feel after that.

Jack tipped his head in Luann’s direction.

She reciprocated. Evidentially they were calling this round a draw.

“I need a moment to confer with my client.” Luanne took Scarlett by the arm and ushered her toward the front door. “Make yourselves at home. The porch swing is very comfortable.” She waved her hand in the direction of the swing. “Water’s in the mini fridge over there.”

Both men gawked, and Scarlett stifled a ridiculous giggle. Anyone who mistook Luanne’s elfin features and extravagant style as a sign of weakness would be sorry. Honestly? She was sort of scary.

Without waiting, Luanne took Scarlett by the arm, shoved her back through the front door, and closed it soundly behind them.

* * *

Gavin hadn’t been able to look away from Scarlett. She was all buttoned-up good girl on the outside, but he’d experienced the wildness within her. She was a puzzle he wanted to solve, and it screwed with his determination to get her out of his life as soon as possible.

Jack chuckled. “That Luanne’s a pocket-sized spitfire, isn’t she?”

Leave it to Jack to view what happened between him and Luanne as entertainment.

Gavin shrugged. “I guess.”

Jack loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. “Damn, it’s hot out here. I need to make some phone calls, and I have a feeling those two are going to take longer than a moment to confer. They’re probably doing each other’s hair, painting their nails, and plotting how to take all your money.”

“You think?” Great, just what he needed. Something else to worry about in this increasingly fucked-up situation.

“I have no idea. They both seem a bit unpredictable.” With a shake of his head and another chuckle, Jack sauntered away. “I’ll be in the car with the air-conditioning. Let me know when Thelma and Louise emerge.”

* * *

“Holy freakin’ shit,” Luanne shrieked. “That’s Gavin Bain. Is he smokin’ hot or what? I wanted to take a big ol’ bite.” She twisted to peek out of the blinds.

Scarlett would have laughed if her life weren’t circling the toilet. “Yeah, he’s pretty good-looking.” Even to her own ears she sounded less than enthused.

Luanne turned from the window and gave Scarlett an appraising look. “You, on the other hand, look like crap.”

“Makes sense, ’cause that’s how I feel.” Luanne’s image wavered a bit as tears pooled in her eyes, and she swallowed a Texas-sized lump in her throat. She’d never been so happy to see anyone in her whole life. “How did you know I needed you?”

“I had the TV on in my office and saw the report on Hollywood News. You know I love that show. Shay Wallace is my favorite. It’s embarrassing. I’m such a fangirl—”

“Luanne. Don’t make me hurt you.”

Luanne cleared her throat. “I caught a glimpse of the dress the woman wore and knew it was you. Remember? I was with you when you bought it, and I recognized your cowboy boots. By the way, those boots make your legs look a-maz-ing.”

Scarlett brightened. “I know, right?”

“So, I picked up the phone to call you, but before I could, Mandy, my secretary, who is Becky Koontz’s sister…you remember Becky? She works at the Stop-n-Shop.” Luanne sat down on the arm of the nearest chair and slipped off one of her Jimmy Choos to inspect it. “Well, Becky called Mandy who called me to say that a good-looking man in a fancy suit—that’s a matter of opinion—and another guy who looked a lot like Gavin Bain came into the Stop-n-Shop to buy gas. They also asked how to get to the Kelly farm.” Luanne returned the shoe to her petite foot and stood to smooth her skirt into place. “I put two and two together and deduced that my best friend was in deep doo-doo. You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“No.” How could she explain something she didn’t even understand?

Luanne arched a perfectly sculpted black brow. “Try again.”

“Okay, fine.” Scarlett flopped onto the nearest chair like a petulant child.

“Get a grip and grow up, Scarlett. Your rock star husband is out there, and he isn’t going away, which means you need my help. Also, if you haven’t told me about any of this, I know you haven’t told your father. He’s not home?”

“No.” She dropped her gaze. Her insides petrified when she thought of the conversation she was going to have to have with her father.

Luanne glanced around the room and whispered, “Where’s Honey?”

“Napping, so there’s no need to whisper. You know once she’s asleep a nuclear bomb wouldn’t wake her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Scarlett?”

The hurt in Luanne’s voice made Scarlett look up. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I guess I thought if I didn’t tell anyone then it wouldn’t be true.” She picked up a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest. “It’s so embarrassing. I got drunk and got married in Las Vegas, Luanne. I’m such a cliché.”

“I forgive you. And you’re not a cliché. Don’t talk about my friend that way.”

Scarlett smiled and wiped her wet lashes with the back of her hand. “Thank you.”

Luanne removed her suit jacket and laid it on the back of the chair. “Alright, now tell me what the hell happened. I thought the big news would be your TV deal with Carousel, not your marriage to Gavin Bain.”

“Yeah, well, so did I.” She picked at the fringe on the pillow. The dejection she’d kept at bay, since her meeting in Vegas, wrapped itself around her like fog on a cool, wet morning.

“You got drunk?”

“As Cooter Brown.”

“I’ve only seen you drink one glass of wine maybe a handful of times.” Her fist went to her hips. “Again, what the hell happened?”

“When I walked into the meeting another author named Sarah Belle was sitting at the table. Carousel informed me they loved my books and Fiona, but they want her more street-smart. They said Sarah’s characters are too edgy, and they want her to soften them up some. They’ve given us two months to revamp our concepts, then they’ll choose between the two of us.”

“Like a contest?”

“Sort of.”

“Bastards.”

“Totally.”

Luanne paced in front of Scarlett. “So…what? You decided to drink your troubles away?”

“Not exactly.”

“What exactly?”

“As soon as that awful meeting was over I couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. I was so mad and upset.”

“Understandable.”

Scarlett blew her bangs from her eyes. She could feel the heat crawling up her neck. “I left so fast I forgot my sweater. I ran back to the room to retrieve it.”

She fought the urge to cover her face. Humiliation smothered her at their remembered words. “They were laughing. I could hear Sarah’s laughter above all the men even before I got to the room.” A deep breath in and a long breath out. “One of the men said I was the most repressed, uptight, frigid woman he’d ever met, a real No-Fun-Nun. I should have stopped when I heard him, but I was practically in the room. I crossed the threshold just as Sarah said I needed a stiff drink and to get laid.”

“What did you do?”

“I stood there with my mouth hanging open and my face probably the color of a stop sign, looking as pathetic as they thought I was. After several long seconds, Sarah giggled and said, ‘Oops, sorry.’”

Luanne’s features turned to stone. “That bitch.”

“Yes, she is.” She could count on Luanne to always be on her side.

“So how did Gavin get involved?”

“I got my sweater and ran to the bar at the Bellagio. They were right about one thing. I did need a stiff drink. I’d barely sat down when I heard this guy ask if he could buy me a drink.” She shivered at the memory of Gavin’s warm lips at her ear. “I turned to politely decline and about swallowed my tongue.”

“I’d like to swallow his tongue.”

“Really, Lou?”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” Luanne fanned her face, then covered her mouth with one hand. “That was completely inappropriate for the moment. Please continue.”

“Anyway, with Scarlett, the No-Fun-Nun still ringin’ in my ears and this gorgeous man in front of me.” She shrugged. “I let him buy me a drink. I mean, would an outrageously sexy rock star want to buy a sexually repressed woman a drink? No. He wouldn’t. So…I said yes.”

He’d ordered her an apple martini and a whiskey for himself. She knew good girls didn’t talk to strangers, but she moved to a dark corner booth with him anyway. Over the next hour, they talked, laughed, and unfortunately, drank a lot.

Fueled by apple martini courage, she’d kissed him. It was a life-altering kiss. When he kissed her back, she was lost, totally and completely lost. Her sensibly constructed, meticulous world popped like champagne bubbles on New Year’s Eve.

She gently touched her lips. That kiss had been the beginning of the end for her.

“Okay, I get that. But how did you get from, Can I buy you a drink to Let’s get married?”

Scarlett looked away and chewed her bottom lip. “I told him I would only have sex with my husband.”

She braced herself for her friend’s response, but nothing came out of her mouth. She’d done the impossible—struck her sassy friend speechless.

“Oh, Lou, I know! It’s insane.” She cringed when she remembered him leading her out of the casino. “Did it occur to me to ask him if he was off his meds? No. Did I say I can’t marry you? Not one time. I didn’t even bother to state the blatantly obvious. I DON’T KNOW YOU! I didn’t do any of that. Noooo, I said, Okay, and trailed behind him like a happy puppy.”

Luanne held up her hands. “Wait. It was his idea to get married?”

“Yes.”

“Shut up.”

“I know.” Scarlett bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Because as messed up as this whole thing was, there was something dream-worthy about a rock star dragging her off to get married.

“And then you got a tattoo?” Luanne couldn’t quite hide her incredulity.

“Evidently.” She readjusted her position to take the pressure off the inked side of her bottom.

“The news report said someone saw you running from the hotel.”

“Yes, and I didn’t stop running until I got onto the plane. Sadly, the humiliation continued.”

“What happened on the plane?”

“I went to the bathroom because the right side of my behind was hurting. I thought maybe I’d hit it during my escape.”

Luanne pressed her lips together but not before Scarlett saw her grin. “What’d you do?”

“The lavatory was so small I had to contort my body around to see my backside. About the time I lowered my yoga pants and saw Gavin written as big as Dallas on my butt cheek, the plane hit a pocket of turbulence. I screamed and was slammed against the door at the same time.”

She rubbed her temples. Wished she could dislodge the memory. “It was just the last straw, you know? I pretty much lost my mind. I kept screamin’ and cryin’, and the next thing I know a man is banging on the door. He demanded I open up or he was coming in after me. Before I could get myself together and pull my pants up, the door flies open, and an air marshal is standing there with a .357 Sig aimed at me. Nothing says your life has veered off track quite like that.”

“Are you shitting me?”

She tried for a reassuring smile. “It all worked out. He was actually very nice, all things considered. I told him what had happened, and he let me go back to my seat. I don’t think he knew what to do with me. I doubt he’d had much training in runaway brides who discover unknown tattoos at thirty thousand feet.”

Luanne’s eyeballs nearly bugged out of her head. “Holy shit…just…holy shit.” She started to say something else then stopped. She furrowed her brow and ran dainty fingers through her short raven hair. “I wonder how Gavin found you so fast.”

“My underwear.” The pillow she clung to absorbed the words but not the mortification.

“What? I didn’t hear you.”

“My underwear.” She didn’t know she could actually speak without moving her lips.

“You’re unaware? Huh?”

“MY UNDERWEAR!” She pulled the wadded up white cotton material from her pocket and stretched the waistband between two fingers, the black lettering proclaiming their owner. “I left them in his hotel room.”

“You wrote your name in your underwear?” Luanne snorted. “Why would you do that? You’re twenty-five years old, for cripes’ sake.”

“I wore them on the church retreat last month, and I didn’t want to lose them.”

The look on Luanne’s face screamed disbelief.

“They were new.” She silently begged her friend to understand.

Luanne lowered her head while pinching the bridge of her nose. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter which gave way to huge guffaws. “Let me get this straight. You seduced Gavin Bain, the bad boy of rock-n-roll and sex on a stick, wearing underwear you wore to a church retreat. Isn’t that sacrilegious? I mean, isn’t there a commandment that says, Thou shalt not seduce rock stars while wearing your Sunday undies?” She howled with laughter.

“Luanne, I…” All the stress, all the shame, all the sheer ridiculousness of the entire situation avalanched down on her. She was married. To a rock star she barely knew. And she’d done it wearing big mama panties. Giggles escaped her clenched jaw. Once the dam broke, there was no holding it back. She laughed until her sides hurt, and tears streamed down her face.

“I love you, Luanne.” She wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt. “Today has been just horrible, and you’ve made it a lot more bearable. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So what do we do now?”

Luanne held up her finger. “Keep your panties on and let me think.” There was a beat of silence and then they were laughing again.

* * *

Gavin put both hands on the porch rail and took several minutes to absorb his environment. Jack was in the air-conditioned car, gesturing excitedly and talking on the phone. Annoyance at his friend made him grip the railing so hard he nearly broke the wood.

Damn attorneys. They were ridiculous. It was like watching a prequel to murder…or foreplay. The only thing they were worried about was who had the biggest package. His money was on Luanne. She was a tiny thing, only a buck five soaking wet, but he’d bet ten pounds of that was her balls.

He stepped off the porch and made his way to the car for the only thing that gave him comfort when his world spiraled out of control—Patsy, his guitar.

Johnny called her a giant pacifier. He smiled at the memory.

Patsy had been a constant companion for fourteen years, his most prized possession. The best $87.50 he’d spent in his whole life. He’d written his first song with her, played her for tips when he was living on the street. When they recorded their first album, it was Patsy he’d slung across his chest and made some of the best music of his life. After Johnny died, he’d wrapped his body around her to stop the agony. She’d been with him through the best and the worst times of his life.

He glanced back at the house and thought of Scarlett Kelly Bain. Best or worst?

Only time would tell.

* * *

“How long have they been here?” Luanne said.

Scarlett picked at a hangnail and made it bleed. She pushed down on the wound with her other hand and glanced up at her friend. “They ambushed me twenty minutes ago.” She saw Luanne covertly peeking out the window again. “Luanne, I’m in trouble here. Will you stop ogling him? Tell me what to do.”

Luanne turned from the window and didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. “He has a guitar,” she whispered. “Where do you think he got a guitar?” She turned back to the window and sighed.

She actually sighed.

“He probably brought it with him.” She pressed hard on the still bleeding cuticle. “He told me…” She stopped as another lost memory hit her square in the face.

“I grew up in the system, so I never had a pot to piss in. The first guitar I ever bought was the only thing I owned for…well, forever. I worked my ass off, roofing houses to get the money to buy her. Her name’s Patsy,” he’d said, affection coating his voice. “I have more expensive guitars, but I keep Patsy with me all the time. I never go anywhere without her.”

“He told me he never goes anywhere without the guitar.”

Her heart stuttered. Gavin was someone she could like.

* * *

Gavin made his way to the swing hanging at the end of the wide front porch. He lowered himself onto it with Patsy on his lap. This place was like something out of a Hallmark movie he’d happened upon while channel surfing in a hotel room.

It had white clapboard siding, sturdy round columns, and pitch black shutters. A fat, lazy tomcat stretched out on a lounge at the other end of the porch. The heat made the air shimmer, but there were ceiling fans, and with the breeze it was tolerable. The only thing missing was Granny hand-churning ice cream.

He rocked back and forth while softly strumming the guitar. The smell of fresh-cut grass floated on the air and locusts rattled in the distance. A horse whinny and a couple of mooing cows from the pasture behind the house added to the sense of peace that settled over him. He liked it here. This place was a real home.

A tree house rested in the branches of a huge tree in the side yard, and in the distance, he could see a small pond. It was a great place for a kid to grow up. That thought led him to check his phone for a message from the private investigator.

Nothing.

His was strangely unconcerned about the estrogen party taking place within the house, probably because he had a bigger issue to deal with. The marriage could be resolved by signing some papers and throwing some money at the problem. The thing with Tara and the baby wouldn’t be so easy to take care of.

The melody from his guitar mixed with the summer sounds. His fingers danced along the neck of the instrument. Lost in the music, he let go of everything and played. The more he emptied his mind and fed off the peace of this place, the more in sync he was with the notes pouring through his hands. His breath hitched and he toed the wood porch to stop the swing. Was there more?

Sweat that had nothing to do with the heat rolled down his back. His heart faltered as he plucked a few more chords. Patsy was singing. He thought he might never hear her like this again. Seventeen months. It had been a year and a half since he’d written anything. Why now? Why here?

Needing to capture the song, he pulled his phone from his pocket. The picture of Scarlett and him kissing came up as soon as he pressed the power button. Was she linked to this? He swiped the screen and thumbed on his recording app.

Tired of his own thoughts, he turned off his brain and played.

* * *

Scarlett closed her eyes and listened to the music coming from the porch. It was her favorite Wolfe’s Bain song, a ballad that never failed to break her heart. Then the familiar song morphed into one she’d never heard before. The music wrapped around her, tugging her toward him.

Get a hold of yourself, Scarlett.

She needed to focus. “Where’s the lawyer?”

“That asswipe’s sitting in the car. He’s on the phone, no doubt insulting half the free world with his bullshit.” The blinds clicked as Luanne let them fall back into place. “Okay, tell me what you want.”

“You have to ask? I want a divorce, and I want him gone.” That sounded so final. She ignored the tiny hiccup beneath her breast bone. It was for the best.

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep him? He’s sooo pretty.”

Gavin wasn’t pretty. She could have ignored pretty. But the sexy, thrilling, sentimental, beautifully dangerous man on the front porch was impossible to ignore. He called to her inner wild child and begged her to come and play. Even now, she could feel the little beast rattle her cage trying to get free while the humiliation of her previous escape was plastered all over the television and the internet. And her playmate sang songs on her front porch. That was not acceptable.

“He’s got to go.”

Luanne stared at her for a moment then nodded. “Okay. I can do that. But just one thing before we go.”

“What?”

Luanne rubbed her hands together. “Let me see that tattoo.”

* * *

Gavin finished the song and stowed his phone away. The swing swayed as he slumped against it. His eyes stung like he was about to cry. What a pussy. Before he could embarrass himself, Jack appeared, cell phone in hand. “Gavin, we’ve got to talk.”

“What is it?”

“I just got off the line with the guys at Storm Side records, and they are not happy.” Jack pulled up a patio chair and dusted dried leaves out of the seat.

“Why?”

“Well, Gavin, let’s recap.” He began ticking off items on his fingers. “You met a woman in a bar. Four hours later you married her in a Las Vegas wedding chapel. Ten hours later she’s seen running from your hotel in a panic. And thirty-six hours later it’s plastered all over the media. Does that ring any bells?”

“What the fuck do they care? I didn’t marry any of them.”

“Gavin, they see this as an indication of a pattern of behavior. You have a reputation for being impulsive and making bad decisions that lead to negative consequences. They are not excited about investing time and money into an artist who may piss it all away.”

“That’s ridiculous. A quickie marriage in Vegas doesn’t have one damn thing to do with my ability to make music. I mean, it’s easy enough to fix, right? We sign some papers and it all goes away.”

“That’s not the point.” Jack gave him an are you really that stupid? look.

“Why don’t you tell me the point, then?”

“I assured them you’d grown up and learned from your mistakes. A week later you’re all over the news with a runaway bride you barely know.” Jack reached over to the mini fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. He took a long pull and looked at Gavin. “I’m worried they’re going to withdraw their offer.”

“What? You’ve got to be shittin’ me.” Gavin fiddled with the gold wedding band. He didn’t know why he was still wearing it, but he was.

“I’m absolutely serious.”

Gavin squashed the impulse to tell them all to go to hell, that he’d do what he wanted when he wanted. If it were only that simple, but Johnny’s letter changed everything. He draped his arm over his guitar. “What do I do, man? I mean, I can’t undo it, and it’s not like I can stay married and sell this as a legit marriage.”

Jack stared at him. “Why can’t you stay married? There’s no law against it. It would solve your problem with Storm Side and go a long way toward redeeming your public image.”

“Dude, are you crazy? First of all, you’ve completely lost it if you think she’ll agree to this. Have you seen how skittish she is? Second, what makes you think I’d go along with it? I mean, I don’t want a wife. You know I have a lot of shit going on in my life right now.” He laid Patsy in his lap and ran his fingers through his messy hair.

“Gavin, when you and I first discussed a comeback, you were on a mission. You knew exactly what you wanted, and how you wanted to get it. I don’t think that’s changed.”

No, the goal hadn’t changed. He needed gainful employment, and the only thing he knew how to do was make music.

“Maybe if we offer her money she’ll agree.” Jack’s shark’s gaze narrowed in calculation.

The firecracker who said she didn’t want a damn thing from them and accepted total responsibility for this mess. Not a chance in hell. “She’ll never go for it, she has too much integrity.”

“Everyone has a price, Gavin. Let me handle it.”

“Alright, but you might want to dial back the intimidation. They don’t respond well to being bullied.”

Jack feigned innocence. “I’m a regular pussy cat.”

Gavin snorted. “Yea, you’re a real prince.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve got this.” Jack slapped Gavin’s knee and gave him a cocky grin.

Gavin glanced at the front door of the house and chewed his bottom lip. It was likely the only thing they would get from these two women were their asses on a platter.