“Don’t be nervous,” I say to Amalie as we wait for Susan to come and watch. I only have a few hours before my show, so it has to be a quick performance, but I’m glad she’s even giving me the chance to show her how amazing Amalie is.

Amalie shifts in her seat and looks over to me. “I don’t think Susan likes me very much.”

Her voice is soft, and slightly off tone, but it only makes her more beautiful.

“She does like you,” I say, looking directly at her so she can read my lips.

She exhales and we both wait for Susan to arrive. She does, about ten minutes later. When she enters the room, her eyes go to Amalie, and she stares at her for a moment, then she looks to me. “I’m really very busy, Scarlett. Make it quick.”

I don’t like the way she’s talking to us, but she is here and I’m not going to start an argument now. I look to Amalie and nod. She looks like she’s about to pass out from worry, but she nods and we start playing. I start the song, one we both picked. It’s a single of mine called “Dreamin’ blues”. It’s a beautiful song, and one that has a great chorus for Amalie to play. I strum my guitar and watch as Amalie closes her eyes.

She told me she can hear, very slightly. She explained she struggles with words, but music tones she can make out a little more clearly. Just enough to know where her cues are. I’m sitting right near her, so she is able to join in on the song at the right time. I start singing and watch as Amalie runs her fingers over the piano keys, eyes closed, body relaxed.

When her part comes, she starts playing as I sing, and once again my breath is nearly knocked out of my body. The way she plays ... It’s incredible. So incredible I can hardly make sense of it. Her fingers move over the keys at a gentle, yet quick pace, keeping up with me. She’s memorized my songs, learned them, mastered them. She must have done that before I knew her to be this good.

If that’s not dedication, I don’t know what is.

I glance over at Susan, expecting a scowl, but instead I see awe on her face as she watches Amalie play. The music that fills the room and the passion behind it makes even the hardest person stop and listen. It captivates you. There is no way you can walk by and not hear it, not feel it, not breathe it. I notice people stopping outside in the hall, a few of them stepping into the room to watch Amalie play.

When the song is over, she lifts her head and opens her eyes, cheeks instantly going red when she sees how many people are here, watching her. I swing my gaze to Susan, and she looks to me. “A word?”

My heart sinks a little, but I look to Amalie and say, “I’ll be right back.”

She nods and I stand, following Susan out of the room. When we’re in a quiet location, she looks to me, her eyes holding mine. “She’s incredible, Scarlett. You’re right. You want her in your band?”

I nod. “More than anything. I’d like to discuss doing some songs with just her and me on the album, too.”

Susan ponders that. “It can be discussed, but one thing at a time. For now, we’ll have a contract drawn up to get her on the last leg of the tour. We can talk about the album when we return home. Does that sound fair?”

I scream and throw my arms around Susan, which is something I rarely do. She’s stiff for a few moments, then carefully pats my back.

“Thank you, Susan!”

“It’ll take me a few days to get the contract drawn, so she won’t be able to play with you until our next stop. Is that okay?”

I nod. “That’s fine. It’ll give her time to get familiar with my song lists.”

Susan nods. “Go and tell her the good news.”

I beam and rush out of the room and into where Amalie is waiting. I run over and throw my arms around her, taking her off guard. I start to tell her she’s in, but realize I’m yelling it over her shoulder, so I pull back and look at her. “She said yes. You’re in!”

Amalie’s face lights up, and she starts jumping up and down. “Really?” she cries.

“Really! She’ll have a contract drawn up tonight, so you won’t be able to play my two shows here in San Francisco, but you will for all my next ones.”

“That’s okay. Thank you so much, Scarlett.”

“I’ll also have a word with her after the show about you travelling on my bus with us. If you like?”

Her face gets even brighter. “Really?”

“Really! I could use a new roomie!”

She beams and hugs me again.

“I’m so happy,” I tell her. “Welcome to my team. I have to go get ready for tonight’s show, but please, make sure you find me after and we can talk about anything you might want to know.”

She nods, smiling happily.

I return that smile and leave the room, feeling absolutely incredible.

And wondering if Maverick will be in the crowd tonight.

My heart swells with anticipation.

~*~*~*~

My show is insane.

By the time I’m finished, I’m exhausted. I’m going to be playing again tomorrow night, because the first night was such a major sell out they decided to do two shows. Maverick stood and watched, front and center. I don’t know how he manages to get that close, my guess is people move out of his way when he bustles through. He’s that massive—anyone in the right frame of mind wouldn’t take him on unless they had a death wish. He watched the whole time I sang with a depth to his gaze that made my heart flutter. It felt good to know I was the one making him stare like that. To feel whatever it is he was feeling when he was watching me.

I just arrived at my holiday house and found my room at the very back, with a big set of double doors opening out onto a wooden deck. Just for me. Peace and serenity, just what I need. I spoke to Susan after the show about Amalie coming on the tour bus with me, she was happy to let her. So, I gave Amalie the good news over text. I couldn’t find her after the show, although I got hustled out pretty quickly once we were done.

Exhaustion pulls at my body and I take a long, hot shower and get into a comfortable pair of cotton shorts and a tank, then I sit on the little deck with a cup of tea, staring out at the city lights. I feel relaxed for the first time ever after a show. That’s a first for me. Usually, I struggle to unwind. Maybe it’s because of Amalie, or Maverick, or both.

I wonder if Maverick will come by.

Did the hint in my message come through clearly enough? I did write my address, but was that too forward? What if he comes here thinking I want to sleep with him? My heart starts hammering against my rib cage. Would I honestly care if he thought that? Probably not. It’s been so long since I’ve felt any kind of passion, let alone romance.

My body heats at the thought of it.

A low rumble that sounds an awful lot like a motorcycle fills the night, traveling into my senses and putting my whole body on alert. I can’t see much, due to the angle of my deck, but I do hear the bike quiet down to a stop on the street outside. Will he go to the front door? Will he figure out where my room is? God. What if he does knock. Susan will lose her mind. She’s gone to bed but the woman has people on duty in the living area for this very reason.

So nobody can come in without going past them.

Safety.

If they saw Maverick. They’d flip.

“Penny for your thoughts, darlin’.”

My head whips around to see Maverick leaning against the railing, arms and elbows over it, facing me. My cheeks flush and I stammer out, “I-I-I-I didn’t even hear you get closer.”

He chuckles. Then, like the night at the restaurant, he just launches his big body over the railing and lands on the deck, boots thumping against the wood. I locked my bedroom door, but that doesn’t stop me from looking over to make sure security isn’t busting in at the sound of the big biker landing on the wood.

Maverick strides over to the other chair beside me and sits down, looking over at me. A piece of dark hair falls over his forehead and those eyes make my insides feel funny things. He’s wearing his jacket over a tight black tee and a pair of old denim jeans and those sexy boots he doesn’t seem to like lacing up. My heart does a little flutter and I try to smile so he doesn’t see how nervous he’s suddenly made me.

“Fuckin’ great show tonight. Never tire of hearin’ that voice.”

My cheeks burn, and I smile. “Thank you. And thank you for coming. It’s grounding to see a familiar face in the sea of unfamiliar faces.”

“Any time. Nice spot you got here. No hotel tonight?”

I shake my head. “I’m tired of how sterile they are. They aren’t homely. Sometimes, being away from home, I like to break it up and stay in these kinds of places, just so I don’t feel so cold all the time, you know?”

He nods, pursing his lips for a second before looking over to me. “Feel you. I get sick of stayin’ in motel rooms myself.”

“How come you don’t go back to your club?”

I blurt the question out without thinking that maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it. After all, he doesn’t know me. His eyes flash with a familiar pain, the same one from last night, and he says, “Just bad memories. I needed a break.”

He doesn’t want to talk about it, so I don’t push. Instead, I change the subject and ask him, “Tell me about your club then. What’s it like being a biker?”

He chuckles and leans back, crossing his booted feet and crossing his big arms. “It’s always excitin’, I guess. But that isn’t why you’re part of it. It’s a brotherhood, a family, a bond unlike any you’ll find anywhere else.”

“But don’t you do illegal and dangerous things?”

Probably not the right question to ask him. But still, I’m curious. I’ve seen all the television shows and movies, like half the population of the world has, and in most of them they portray bikers are being these cold, scary killers. I know of course that isn’t real life, but part of it had to be created from some truth. Even if it is only a little.

“Can’t talk about club business with you, darlin’, but yeah it does get dangerous sometimes. That’s just part of this world. It’s also one of the best parts. It’s good knowin’ you have a group of people that’ll always have your back. And the freedom of not answerin’ to the rest of the world is pretty fuckin’ great.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, crossing my legs beneath me. “That would be nice.”

Maverick’s eyes go to my tanned legs and the short cotton pants I’m wearing and flash. His jaw tics and he meets my eyes again, and I swear I can feel the intensity burning in them.

“I’ve, ah, watched a few episodes of Son’s of Anarchy,” I admit, trying to stop my voice from shaking. “Is that what it’s like?”

He chuckles. “That’s a fictional version, but some parts, yeah I guess it’s similar.”

I frown. “Do you really call your girlfriends or wives ‘Old ladies’?”

His grin gets big. Dimples. Sigh. “Yeah, but it’s a term of endearment, believe it or not.”

I scrunch up my nose. “It is?”

“Yeah. They hold the highest respect. Nobody speaks down to or disrespects anyone’s Old Lady. Ever. Unless you want your face pushed in by her old fella’s boot.”

I nod, impressed, and smile a little at the thought. “Do you have an Old Lady?”

He raises his brows. “Darlin’, I’m no cheater. Wouldn’t be sittin’ here lookin’ at your legs and wonderin’ how they’d feel wrapped around my hips if I had an Old Lady.”

I flush and squirm, completely shocked by his words. “O-O-Oh,” I stammer. “Right. Well.” Shit, what do I say? “Have you ever had an Old Lady?”

Dumb question. Of course he hasn’t. Or he’d still have her.

His face drops, and a darkness clouds his eyes. A darkness that speaks of deep pain and regret.

Oh. My.

He has had an Old Lady, but from the pain in his face, he doesn’t any longer. My heart aches, and curiosity burns inside me. What happened to her? Is she dead? Is she alive? Did she leave him and break his heart? Does he have any kids? So many questions. So many I can’t ask because now is clearly not the time to push.

“I did, but I don’t wanna discuss it.”

His voice is rough and ragged.

My heart swells with pain for him.

“I understand,” I say. “Do you have any family in the club?”

“My brother is the President.”

“Oh, wow,” I say, intrigued. “Are you two close?”

“Close as brothers can be.”

I smile. “That’s so nice.”

“You got any siblings?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s just me. My parents never had any more after me. I’m not really sure why.”

“Your parents still alive?” he asks, turning slightly toward me.

“Yeah, they are, but ... I don’t speak to them as much as I should.”

“Why not?”

I grin. “So many questions.”

He winks at me. And my heart does more stupid things in my chest.

“I guess ... I don’t know ... I got famous and, well, I resented them a little. I distanced myself. I kind of blamed them for putting me in the spotlight. They pushed.”

“You didn’t want to sing?” he asks, rubbing the stubble on his chin and making me want to run my fingers over it.

“No, I did. I loved singing. It just wasn’t really the path I wanted to take. I wanted to take over their ranch and spend my days running it and breeding horses. A stupid dream, but a dream all the same.”

“It isn’t stupid. Nothin’ wrong with knowin’ what you want. You could still do that, couldn’t you?”

I shake my head. “I own the ranch now; I bought it off them when they decided to move closer to town. I pay people to run and live on it. When I go home, I stay at a little cottage down the back we used to have for guests. I love being there. It’s my home. It’s my passion. But I don’t get time for it. Even when I’m not touring I’m recording albums or writing songs. There is always something to be done. My life never stops.”

He studies me for a while. “Sorry to hear that. Everyone should be able to follow the path they are passionate about.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” I say softly, “I’m grateful for my career. It changed my life. It allowed me to own my ranch. It affords me the lifestyle I have, and I do love to sing, I always did. But this life, all the time, the constant rushing around, not being able to just walk down a street without being noticed, it’s exhausting. The demand is huge.”

“I can imagine, it isn’t somethin’ I’d do well with. I don’t like people.”

I giggle. “For someone who doesn’t like people, you stand front and center at my shows surrounded by them.”

His eyes lock on mine. “Your voice, you—it takes me to a good place, sweetheart. A place where I feel good inside. It’s captivatin’. So, I don’t like those people around me, but I don’t give a fuck because, honestly, all I can hear is you.”

Dammit.

That’s so god damned nice.

My chest aches.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice low. “That really means a lot to me.”

He flashes me another smile then stands, slapping his hands on his knees as he does. “Love to stay, but I have somewhere to be. Was nice talkin’ to you, Scarlett.”

The way he just said my name made my heart lodge right up there in my throat.

That feeling. God. So good.

“Thanks for coming and talking to me, and of course coming to my show.”

He winks at me, then puts one booted foot forward and sweeps down, pressing a rough kiss to my forehead. His stubble scratches my skin, but he smells incredible, and my body freezes in the intensity of it all. I close my eyes and try to take in how his lips feel there against my skin, the way his scent invades my senses, the way my body goes into overdrive and my skin prickles.

Yes.

“Night,” he murmurs, then steps back.

I swallow and look up at him. “Goodnight, Maverick.”

He grins.

Then he launches his big body over the railing and disappears into the night.

And my heart stays right there, firmly lodged in my throat.

Yes.

Incredible.