I grab a shot of whiskey from Finn as Gracyn watches dick-less limp his sorry ass out the door. Yeah, I wanted to step in and put the guy down like the dog he was, but she needed it more. The closure, the knowledge that she took care of shit herself, is more important than me getting my licks in.

But there’s a next time …

I bump Gracyn with my hip and hand her the whiskey, grinning. “You’re such a badass,” I tell her, sliding my arm past her to claim my own drink from Finn. “Here’s to keeping your boyfriend pretty.” I lift my glass and wink at her.

“Mmm, it’s just that you really are too pretty to go to jail again. I want to keep you for myself.” She tosses back the whiskey and pops up on her tiptoes. Hands on my chest, she leans in and kisses me.

I set my still-full shot on the bar and dive my hands into her mass of blonde waves, deepening the kiss, devouring her. Pulling back only a fraction, I ask, “How much longer until we can leave?”

“Hours. We still have hours, and you have two more sets. You didn’t think you’d get to skate on your gig because you’re tapping the bartender, did you?”

“I’m offended that you would think so little of me. I take my responsibilities very seriously.” I step into her, grateful for the wall-to-wall bodies forcing us to connect from chest to thighs. “And I plan on making you one of my favorite responsibilities. Maybe we need to discuss just how seriously I plan on taking you—and when and where.” I raise my eyebrow, just the left one, as she lifts her gaze to the ceiling.

Leaning in close, so she and only she can hear me above the noisy revelers throwing back their green beer, I say, “I’ll give you a hint. I plan on taking you hard when you want it, soft when you need it, and in every single room, closet, and corner of our place as soon as you move your shit into my house.”

Her gasp is music to my ears, and while this is not where I planned on doing this, I keep going. “Gracyn, I don’t want to even imagine a day without you in my life. Don’t want you to ever go home to a place that isn’t with me. I love you, babe, and after all the time we’ve managed to piss away, I want to spend each and every minute showing you just how much you mean to me.”

We are utterly alone—just the two of us—in this sea of strangers. Each inhaled breath presses her closer to me. Her fingers tighten around my biceps, digging in. This moment is the one you write songs about, that lyrics bring to life.

I trail the tip of my tongue up the side of her neck, inhaling her perfume, tasting the salt on her skin, and kiss that spot—that one just below her ear. The one that makes her nipples pebble and her breath catch.

I whisper, “And, now that I’ve licked you, you’re mine.”

Gracyn melts into me in a way I have never experienced before.

“You can’t do that shit to me here. How am I supposed to function for the rest of the night?”

I want nothing more than to scoop her up and take her home. Show her the only way she needs to be functional tonight is with me wrapped around her, worshipping her.

“Your break is over, hotshot. You need to go play your next set and make all the girls swoon.” She tugs at my hair, the familiar sting beelining down my spine and straight to my dick.

Making the necessary adjustments so that my knuckles brush against her, I smile and hit her with, “There’s only one girl whose swooning I’m interested in.” With everything I have behind it, I kiss her stupid and grab my guitar before heading back for another round of Irish music.

Gracyn moves around the bar, helping and filling in wherever she’s needed without a blink of the eye. And, the entire time, I’m focused on the way her jeans hug her ass, the way her hips sway with each step. I grit my teeth every time some drunk asshole stares at her a little too long for my liking, the timbre of the song changing, until she moves on or puts the guy in his place.

But the way her face lights up when she talks to the patrons, checks in with Aidan or the guys behind the bar, is breathtaking. There is nothing she can’t do, not a fucking thing, as long as she stays true to herself and follows her dreams.

I play through two sets, soaking up everything about her and her town and these people that she considers her true family. The only one missing is her friend Lis; actually, none of the girls are here tonight aside from Gracyn. Lis is working at the hospital, but Kate, the roommate, and Addison … or Adelaide maybe … are both absent.

Those girls … I feel like I need to pay some dues to. From the way Finn talks, he and Adelaide—I think—are all into indie bands and my kind of music. I should try to hook them up with some tickets to a show somewhere.

Kate is the unattached, wild friend, according to Gracyn. I don’t know a lot about her, nothing really.

But Lis and Aidan? Those two, I, for real, need to get in good graces with. Gracyn confirmed that the only fight—big fight—she’d ever had with Lis was the summer after Gracyn and I met. It doesn’t sit well with me that I caused some shit to go down between those girls, so I’m going to have to kiss some ass there and make amends.

This night can’t end soon enough. I want to grab the air horn and clear these people out, so I can go home and lick and claim Gavin for my own.

Finally, when I think I can’t take it for one more minute, Finn rings the bell and does last call. God, how weird is it to be on this side of the house? Herding the drunks out the door, calling for cabs that are so busy that people are better off, walking home.

As the last of the stragglers filter out, Gavin accepts the end-of-the-night pint of Guinness from Finn and launches into his songs. He relaxes into his guitar, fingers nimbly strumming and stroking the strings, commanding the notes, coaxing and demanding the music to fall into line.

Hearing him play acoustically takes me straight back to Central Park, to the beach, to every quiet moment that we’ve shared. And, when he launches into “One,” my heart is so at peace. He’s right. As long as I am true to myself and follow my dreams, anything can happen.

“Gracyn,” Finn calls, “take the till to the back, will you, love? Check on Francie for me? He slipped out of here a couple of hours ago to hang out in the office for a bit.”

I grab the drawer from the register and hustle my ass through the kitchen.

“Francie, I’m coming in,” I call, pushing open the door.

The chair is pushed back from the desk, and there’s not a soul in sight. I round the desk, focused on getting my stuff done and getting out of here. After the mayhem of the past couple of years and the Brooks incident, I’m just ready to be done.

My heart slams to a halt, fully embedded against my ribs, pain shattering the very substance of the muscle.

“Call 911. Goddamn it, call 911!”