He pulled his phone out and made a note and caught Harper shredding a slim, braided bracelet on her right wrist. Her rings flashed in the low light and she stopped, tucking her thumb under her ring finger to straighten her diamond. Then she curled her fingers into a fist and put it under the table.
Deacon frowned and chased her hand under the table, linking their fingers. Startled, she swung her gaze to his. The flash of something in her eyes made him lay his phone down.
It looked like…hurt.
God, had he done something? He opened his mouth to ask her again if something was wrong, but the waitress came back with their drinks and the drum tech picked then to test the skins. Harper’s sudden stiff posture shut him up as well.
Instead, he gently swiped his fingertips down the smooth skin of her back, paying special attention to the dip of her spine. He kept his strokes light and soothing, but rather than calming her like it usually did, she seemed to tighten up all the more.
“I’ll be right back.”
Deacon sat back in his chair. “Where are you going?”
“Bathroom. Is that allowed?”
He frowned and held up his hands. “Sorry.”
She shook her hair back and grabbed her purse. Her ankle length dress flowed around her as she melted into the crowd. As she practically ran away from him.
What in the holy fuck?
He lifted his beer and downed half of it in long pulls. Harper had never been the type of woman to get in shitty moods for no reason. Especially when they’d been nothing but close for the last few days and nights. Ever since she’d disappeared that afternoon, everything had gone to shit.
Letting the music distract him, he realized it had been well over fifteen minutes since she’d gone to the ladies room. He stood, using his height advantage to scan the crowd for her.
Finally he spotted her along the side wall, her face lit up by her cell phone. Who the heck was she talking to? Neither of them had even looked at their cell phones since they’d gotten to Galveston and now that was twice she’d been distracted by it. He dug his phone out of his pocket to see if she’d texted him, but nothing.
She must have felt his eyes on her, because she suddenly looked up, shoved her phone in her bag, and headed back across the room to him. Had Annie contacted her? He got the impression that Annie was going on a family vacation for the holiday since they didn’t have any jobs lined up for their catering business.
When she was closer he realized he’d crossed his arms over his chest. Her shoulders were stiff and thrown back. He forced himself to relax and lifted his beer. “Everything okay? You’ve been gone for a while.”
“Sorry. I was bored.”
Deacon snapped his beer down on the table. “We didn’t have to come tonight. I told you I was more than happy staying at the cottage with you.”
“You know, we can do more than fuck like rabbits on our honeymoon.”
He raised his brows at her biting tone. “I’m not sure if you remember who’s been attacking who.”
“What, are you complaining?”
His fingers curled tighter around the bottle. “No. Jesus, Lawless. What the hell? You’ve been stiff and defensive since you got out of the shower.”
“I told you I was out of sorts.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“What, is that not allowed either?”
Deacon leaned into her, his voice low. “Who were you talking to?”
“I was just checking email. Afraid I’m talking to another guy?”
Baffled, he wiped his hand down his face. “No. That didn’t even occur to me. Why the hell are you trying to pick a fight?”
“I’m not.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
She huffed out a breath and took a sip from her glass. She turned to him and brought her hand up to his face. Smoothing her thumb along his beard, she closed her eyes and pressed her face into his neck.
Not sure what to do, Deacon slid his hand around her back. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong. I know something’s up.”
“We’ve got a celebrity in the crowd tonight.”
Deacon’s back stiffened as a spotlight hit the table.
Crap.
“I know we’re kinda putting you on the spot, but we’d love if you came up for a song. For those of you that don’t know who this is, Deacon McCoy from Oblivion is here.”
Deacon waved off the light. He raised his voice to be heard. “Nah, man. I’m just here to enjoy the music.”
“C’mon, just one song.” The guy was probably a decade older than him, but he was utterly shameless. He hopped off the stage and headed their way.
“Shit.”
“Go on. You know you want to.”
Deacon frowned at Harper. “We—”
“Go on. You gotta be missing your bass.” She leaned into him, her eyes sad, but a little more present. “I love watching you play.” She lifted her finger to the space between his eyebrows. “Quit frowning. Play me some Bad Company. You know how it twists my panties.”
He almost believed her. She was smiling, but it seemed forced.
The lead singer to Burning Branch stood before him. “We can play nearly anything.”
“The wife requests a little Bad Company, man.”