“What’s keeping you so quiet tonight, Bluebird?”
Gavin’s voice shakes me from my thoughts and I look over at him. His forehead is creased and he seems genuinely concerned. Still slightly peeved by his keeping his distance, I consider saying “nothing” and ignoring him. But those eyes have always pulled the truth right out of me.
“You think Dallas ever misses Robyn?”
His expression indicates he didn’t see this particular question coming. “Breeland?”
“Did he date another Robyn I never met?”
He rolls his eyes and flicks the lighter I didn’t notice before in his right hand. “No, smartass. I just didn’t expect you to bring her up. What made you think of her?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Just seems sad to me. I liked her. A lot. I kind of hoped they’d get married one day.”
Two more harsh flicks of the lighter and Gavin looks like he might be ill. “Married? He’s only twenty-two for fuck’s sakes.”
“I didn’t mean soon. I just meant one day. They were happy together. Not everyone can handle Dallas the way she did. In fact, I’m a little worried he won’t ever be able to find anyone able to put up with his crazy self. I don’t want him to end up alone and sleeping on my couch for the rest of his life.”
Gavin chuckles and the musical sound tightens the muscles in my stomach.
There are a lot of different types of laughs in this world. Contagious ones, high-pitched ones, annoyingly out-of-control ones. But Gavin Garrison’s laugh is low and deep, and so seldom heard that it slides into the cracks in my heart, filling them with the melodic sound like a habit-forming narcotic I can’t get enough of.
Thankfully we reach Mangieri’s and I have a few minutes to compose myself while we’re seated and given menus. Perusing the menu covered with pictures of food that makes my stomach growl, I inhale the sweet, tangy scent of tomatoes and garlic.
“What are you gonna get, Blu—”
“Oh my gosh,” a waitress standing beside our table exclaims before he can finish. “Y’all are in that band. Leaving Amarillo, right?”
Apparently the red-haired chick recognizes us, which is odd. But at least she got the name of the band right. We’ve been called everything from Loving Eldorado to Losing Armadillos. Score one point for her. I’m flattered and grateful that we actually have a fan. But when I glance up at her, she’s fawning over Gavin in a way that makes me want to gouge out her big brown doe eyes.
“Yes ma’am,” Gavin answers, his drawl a little more pronounced and his voice a little deeper than usual. I raise a brow but he doesn’t notice. Because apparently I’ve turned invisible. “You’ve heard of us?”
A wide smile brightens her face and I have to admit she’s not unattractive. She’d probably be even prettier if she washed off a good portion of the gaudy makeup she’s wearing.
“I saw you at Beale Street last year and I pretty much stalk you online.” Her cheeks darken with embarrassment and she lowers her head. “I mean, not stalk, but I have all the songs available on my iPod and, um, yeah. I’m a fan. Obviously. Wow, I am totally making an idiot out of myself.”
Yes, you are. Now go away.
Gavin leans back in his chair and does elevator eyes on her and I have a sudden urge to throat-punch him. “We don’t think any of our fans are idiots, darlin’. All five of you are wildly intelligent with excellent taste.” He winks, and I swear, she nearly strips her clothes off right there.
In that moment, I’m extremely thankful that no one’s brought us silverware yet because I’m feeling pretty stabby.
“I’m coming to see y’all at MusicFest this week. I was so excited to see that y’all had gotten added to the lineup. Me and my girlfriends could only get general admission tickets though. The VIP ones sold out superfast.” She sticks out a pouty bottom lip, and I grip my own knee until it stings to force myself to remain silent.