“You’ll have to try Meg, here, during rehearsal sometime,” Bart suggested as he poured. “She brought her instrument with her.”
“Oh, no,” Meg protested. “I can’t play like that.”
“You got a fiddle, don’t you?” he said.
“No. I have a violin,” she said firmly.
“Fiddle, violin. What’s the difference?”
“You’d know, Uncle Bart,” John said, winking at Meg, “if you’d ever listened to a real violinist.”
Bart shrugged, but all Meg could do was try to keep from staring at John. She took him to be the youngest of the four brothers, but he was definitely the best looking of the group.
Maybe I only think that, because I know the other three are married, she thought, desperately seeking some explanation for the fact that her right side—John’s side—was a lot warmer than her left.
“I really like the mandolin,” she finally said, looking for a distraction. “I’ve never played one before.”
“It plays just like the violin, fingering-wise,” John said. “I can teach you how to play it.”
She glanced up sharply, only to find her pale green eyes trapped by his golden ones. “Really?”
He smiled. “Sure. Where are you staying?”
“Um, well, actually, I came here straight from the bus station, so I don’t know, yet.”
“That’s perfect,” Addy said from across the table. “You can stay with Mark and me.”
“I can’t do that,” Meg said. “I mean…”
“Sure you can,” Mark said. “We have plenty of room.”
“We bought a house with three apartments in it,” Bart said. “Matt and Mel live on the top floor, Mark and Addy in the middle—the biggest apartment—and Luke and Candace have the ground floor. John and I share another house across the alley. We’re in the middle of renovating it into another multifamily—two apartments this time.”
“We still have a long way to go,” John said, “but playing in the upstairs living room right now is kind of like singing in the shower—terrific acoustics.
They all laughed, and Meg began to reconsider. Perhaps I can do this, she thought. What better place to stay than with new friends, where my father is less likely to find me?
“Come on, Meg,” Candace said. “Say you’ll stay with us. You don’t want to be wandering around Nashville all by yourself in the middle of the night looking for a hotel, do you?”
“No,” Meg said, certain of that much. “And I’ll thank you in advance for your hospitality.”
“You’re welcome,” Mark said, toasting her with his beer.
“Oops,” Matt said, seeing the bartender’s signal. “We’d better get back to work.”
He and his brothers polished off their burgers and downed the rest of their beers then stood to head back to the stage.”
“Will you head home soon, darlin’?” Matt asked Mel, kissing her lightly.
“Probably. You can all come in the van, can’t you?”
“You betcha,” Luke said, kissing Candace. “We’ll see you at home.”
“You’ll walk them out?” Mark asked Bart.
“Of course. Don’t worry about it. You get back to work.”
Mark grinned, dropped a kiss on Addy’s lips then followed his brothers back to the stage.
Meg and the others stayed through another set then the four women headed out to Mel’s car, which they told her was parked not far away. Bart escorted them as promised—as Meg learned was his habit.
They left the confines of the bar, and Meg breathed deeply of the warm night air. Even without the cigarettes, the place had been stuffy, and it felt good to be outside. They went to the corner and turned right, presumably headed to Mel’s car, though it was much darker off the main street, and she couldn’t see a thing. Then suddenly, three huge shadows separated from the wall.
“Hey, there! How come you got four women, and we ain’t got none?”
“Oh, let me count the reasons,” Candace hissed under her breath.
“Easy, darlin’,” Bart said, shifting Meg to the outside of him. “Just get to the car.”
“He asked you a question, old man!” another of the shadows growled. Then they moved away from the wall, and Meg could see three burly men, dressed in cowboy attire and reeking of alcohol.
“You don’t want to mess with these ladies,” Bart said on a growl. “Their husbands won’t like it.”
“Well, I don’t see no husbands. Do you, Zeb?”
“Naw. I just seen one old man.”
“He’s has to be kidding,” Meg muttered. Bart old?”
“Just get in the car,” Bart said.
They had reached a light-colored midsized sedan, and Mel was unlocking the doors.
“I don’t think so!” the third man sneered.
Meg braced herself, knowing she would be useless if there was going to be a fight, but there was a sudden roar right next to her, where Bart had been standing. She yelped and jumped away, but Mel was there to catch her and bundle her into the back seat, her bag and violin quickly following. The wash from the interior light of the car reflected briefly on a tawny hide as it streaked away, and she heard something that sounded like the scream of a big cat.
“Get in the car, Candace!” Mel was shouting, and Candace jumped in the back seat, forcing Meg to the other side. The back door slammed, and Candace hit the lock, but Mel—who had run around the front of the car—had only opened her driver’s side door. She just stood there, peering into the darkness, where low growls and sounds of a scuffle continued.
Then as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Bart appeared out of the darkness, his arm wrapped around Addy’s shoulder.
“Get in the car, darlin’,” he said, opening the front door for her.
“Maybe I should come back with…”
“You go on home.”
“But…”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said, kissing her on her hair.
Without further argument, he handed Addy into the car and closed the door behind her.
“Go on, now, Melinda,” Bart said, coming around the hood of the car to hand her into the car, too. “I’ll be fine. You just get on home.”
“You be careful. Hear?” she said, standing on her toes to kiss him on the cheek.
“Don’t worry. They’re out like a light. Drunk as they are, they won’t even remember this in the mornin’.”
“You get one or two of the boys to go with you to get the van, later,” Mel said sternly. “Don’t you dare go out alone.”
“I won’t, darlin’. Now go.”
Without another word, Mel hopped in the car, closed the door, and in seconds, they were on their way.
On our way to where? Meg asked herself. And now what?
The others were quiet, and Meg wondered if they could hear her heart pounding.
“Are you okay?” Candace asked after a moment, her voice tiny in the darkness.
“I think so,” Meg said, though her voice shook.
She felt Candace’s hand close on her own and was somewhat comforted to feel the other woman was trembling, too.
She thought back to what she had seen in the bar—and what she thought she’d just seen on the street—and reached an unexpected conclusion.
“It’s the eyes, isn’t it?” she said, unable to keep the wonder out of her voice.
“Yes,” Mel said. “They’re all ‘Shifters.’”
“Bart was…”
“He and the boys all become bears,” Mel said. “It runs in the family.”
Meg couldn’t miss the smile in her voice.
“Addy?” she asked, fairly certain the woman had not become a bear.
“I…”
“Addy becomes a mountain lion,” Candace said, when Addy didn’t finish. “She’s probably the only one in her whole family, though, so it’s harder for her. Right Addy?”
Meg saw Addy nod in the darkness and then take a deep breath.
&nb
sp; “If you’ll feel more…comfortable staying with Mel or Candace, I’ll understand.”
Meg heard the sadness in Addy’s voice, and her heart went out to her new friend. Reaching forward, she laid a hand on her shoulder.
“If it’s all the same to you, Addy, I’ll feel safer with you until the boys get home.”
Mel chuckled.
“You’re all right, Meg. I think I’m going to like you. A lot.”
“Me too,” Candace said, patting Meg’s shoulder.
Addy looked at her, and Meg could see the other woman’s smile as they passed under a streetlight.
“I think I already like all of you,” Meg said, leaning back in her seat. “I can’t even imagine where I’d be tonight, if I hadn’t heard John’s fiddle from out on the street.”
“Let’s not go there, then,” Mel said firmly, pulling up at a red light.
“Do they have Shifters where you come from?” Candace asked.
“In New York City?” Meg thought for a minute. “Not that I know of, though there must be, I would think. I’ve heard about them, but I guess I didn’t really believe they were, well, real.”
“It would be hard for our kind in a really big city,” Addy said. “It’s hard enough in Nashville.”
“Don’t worry,” Mel said, patting Addy’s leg then accelerating as the light turned green. “We’ll be heading back home for a spell over Easter. You can get your mountain fix, then.”
“Where is home?” Meg asked.
“Eastern Tennessee,” Mel said. “Both north and east of Knoxville.”
Addy seemed to sigh with relief. “I can’t wait.”
“I’m really looking forward to meeting your Gran, Addy,” Candace said.
And suddenly they were talking about Easter vacation as though they hadn’t just had a scary encounter on the streets of the city. Meg shook her head in wonder. Then she thought about these women and their men, the normal life they seemed to lead, the closeness of the family, and she felt her own pulse slow. For some reason, these strangers liked her. They were inviting her into their homes and into their lives.
Then she thought about John, pictured him standing with his fiddle, enjoying his music like she hadn’t in a very long time. I think I’ve come home, she thought, perhaps for the very first time. God, I hope it lasts, because I never want to leave…
The morning sun streamed through the new green leaves of spring, while a profusion of daffodils in full bloom danced in the breeze. Meg thought about New York—the cold that lingered there well into March—and marveled as she walked along, her long slender fingers clasped loosely in John’s big hand, exploring the neighborhood around his home. She wasn’t quite certain of just how she had gotten to this point, except that the entire family had gathered in Addy and Mark’s apartment for a big breakfast at around nine o’clock this morning, and before she could offer to help with the dishes after, the others had sort of scooted her and John out the door with orders to enjoy their walk.
Okay. So I’ve never walked along a street with a man before. I’ve never met a Shifter before, either, and now I can call six of them my friends. I’m not in New York anymore, Toto, that’s for certain.
“What are you thinkin’, darlin’?” John asked, swinging their arms to get her attention.
Meg glanced up at him shyly. “I’m just wondering how I got here, that’s all,” she said.
“In Nashville or with me?”
“Both, I guess. I’ve never done this before.”
“What? Taken a walk on a sunny day or taken a walk with a guy?”
“Both.”
He stopped, and pulled her up short. “You’re not kiddin’, are you?”
She smiled. “No. My father was always very strict. I led a very sheltered life.”
“I can’t even imagine a life like that,” he said, turning back down the sidewalk, but keeping her hand in his.
“I’m only just beginning to realize just how sheltered I’ve always been,” she said.
“You never got to play outside as a little kid?”
She snorted. “I don’t think I ever was a ‘little kid,’ to tell you the truth. I started to play the violin when I was three.”
“I started with Grandpappy’s fiddle at about the same age. We’d sit around the house most evenin’s, playin’ this tune or that. Then when we got better, we’d play at a local place—there was this tavern where we sometimes played, and during the summer, we’d play on the green when there’d be a picnic and folks wanted music.”
She sighed. “It all sounds so normal.”
“What about you? Where did you play as a kid?”
She sighed again. “I started my studies at Julliard at ten and played my first concert at Carnegie Hall when I was thirteen.”
He stopped short again, a look of disbelief on his face. “No shit?”
Meg laughed. “No shit.”
“Holy cats. Where else have you played?”
“Oh, Rockefeller Center, in New York. The Royal Albert Hall in London. Vienna, Berlin, Paris, Bucharest, Moscow. I’ve been all over the world with my violin.”
“Holy cats.” He shook his head, “I’ve never even been out of Tennessee.”
She gave his hand a squeeze and began walking once more, pulling him along. “I might as well have stayed in New York for all that I missed seeing in all those places. It was nothing but airports, the inside of limousines, fancy hotels, and concert halls. I never actually got to go exploring. Not like here.”
She grinned, and hugged his arm to her. “Maybe that’s why I’m having such a good time in Nashville. I’ve been having a real life adventure.”
“Does your father know where you are?” he asked.
She sighed. “No. Or at least I hope not.”
“And your mama?”
“She died when I was just a baby, so I have no memory of her.”
He pondered that for a moment.
“So, you’re tellin’ me you just ran away from home?”
“Something like that.”
He stopped once more. “How old are you?”
She laughed. “I was twenty-three in September. Don’t worry. I’m plenty old enough to be on my own. I’ve finally just had enough of the concert circuit.”
“You don’t have any broken contracts or anythin’, do you? Mel’s a real stickler for contracts.”
“No. I don’t,” she said. “My father has undoubtedly lined up a whole season of concerts for me, but I haven’t signed any contracts. I’ve been telling him for months now that I need some time off, so if he has signed something for me, when I told him not to, he’ll just have to deal with the consequences, because I’m not going back to that life. Not ever!”
Her voice had hardened, but she couldn’t help it. She was burned out, and she was through.
“So, you think you’ll be stayin’ here for a bit?” he asked, gently cupping her cheek with his hand. She felt the calluses on his fingertips, so much like her own, and reaching up to take his hand, she turned her face and kissed his palm before intertwining her fingers with his.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, smiling up at him. “I’m happier at this moment than I’ve ever been. For the first time in my life, I’m free—free of expectations, free of responsibilities, free to be myself.” She sighed. “Free to find out just what that might be.”
His smile warmed, easily reaching his golden eyes. “Maybe I can help you with that,” he said, his voice as gentle as his touch.
She returned his smile. “Maybe you can.”
In another moment, she was reaching up to pull his face down and kissing him. He kissed her back, and her mouth opened under his at his gentle probing. His kiss wasn’t demanding, but she felt something shift inside her as his arms came around her, and their kiss deepened further. It was not as though she had never been kissed before. She had done that and a lot more with various famous musicians and conductors around the word, all at her father’s urging. This
was different, though. John was different. She had met his brothers and their wives, and over the past twelve hours she had been welcomed into his family with open arms. Suddenly she knew things could be very different with this man, and she’d never felt such a yearning.
Bartholomew (BBW Country Music Bear Shifter Romance) (Bearly Saints Book 5) Page 12