Don't Let the Music Die (The Storyhill Musicians Book 2)

by Annmarie Boyle

  Avery laughed, because it was true, but also because his breath dancing over her cheek lit up neurons from her ears to her toes. Somewhere in the far reaches of her brain, her body still remembered what it felt like to be touched—to be loved—by Matt Taylor. Would it be the same? Or better? The shivers running up and down her spine suggested yes.

  “Hey Storyhill,” Grace said in a voice that immediately silenced the room. Avery’s lips twitched. There was no doubt who was the alpha in this crowd. She was going to like Grace very much. “Meet Avery Lind.”

  “Avery!” a cheer went up around the room, everyone lifting their glass.

  “Do they practice that?” she whispered to Grace.

  “You’d think so,” Grace said, laughing. “Let me introduce you to everyone. Unless Matt wants to do that.” Grace turned to Matt and cocked an eyebrow.

  He smiled softly at the two women. “Go ahead, Grace. I’ll get drinks.” He winked at Avery, and a colony of butterflies exploded in her belly. She pressed a hand into her abdomen, trying to settle them, but they were a hardy bunch.

  Grace escorted her around the room, helping Avery put faces to the names Matt had mentioned. Everyone was open and kind and welcomed her as if she’d been coming to these gatherings for years.

  Their tour ended in the kitchen. A dark-haired man pulled a six-pack from the fridge, and Avery instantly recognized Andrew. Grace’s entire demeanor changed, and her voice softened. The look they shared made Avery blush a little. What must it be like to have someone look at you like that? You knew once, that nagging little voice said.

  “Welcome. I can’t imagine what Matt had to promise you to get you to come. Meeting everyone all at once is a tough date. I think that’s why he usually comes alone,” Andrew said, circling his fiancé’s shoulders.

  Her first response was to make sure Andrew and Grace knew this wasn’t a date. But the thing that fell out of her mouth was, “Matt hasn’t brought other women to these things?”

  “No,” Grace said, surprised by her own answer. “His face might launch a thousand ships, but he’s never brought any into this port.”

  Andrew’s brow furrowed and he laughed.

  “I know,” Grace said, “that was a really terrible metaphor. And I’m supposed to be good with words.”

  Avery laughed, though the thought that a confirmed ladies’ man had never introduced any of his partners to his friends surprised her. “It’ll be our little secret,” she said to Grace.

  “What’s the secret?” Matt asked, stepping up to them and handing Avery a half-full wineglass.

  “Not everything that comes out of Grace’s mouth is a hit song,” Avery said, accepting the glass.

  “I thought it was a secret,” Grace said, laughing.

  “Sorry. I’m normally good with secrets.” From years of practice. Secrets that, if they came out, would ruin so many things.

  “No worries,” Grace said with the air of a woman perfectly at home in her skin. Unlike Avery. “And now that most everyone is here, I think it’s time for a game.”

  “What should we play tonight, love?” Andrew asked.

  “Well, Cowboy, I was thinking Song Titles.” Grace grabbed Avery’s hand. “And Avery and I are going to be a team.”

  The familiarity of Grace’s touch startled her. “You want to partner with me? We’ve only just met.”

  “Song Titles is a game where a word is pulled from a jar and each team has ten seconds to name a song with that word in it—and bonus points if you can name the artist. A team comprising a radio host and a songwriter is a winning combination. I’m being totally selfish.” She winked at Avery. “I’m really ready to take some cash off these boys.”

  “You play for money?”

  Grace nodded. “It’s a small pot. The real winning comes in rubbing their faces in their loss.”

  Avery laughed. “I have a feeling we’re going to be friends, Grace O’Connor.” A sadness rolled over Avery. Would she have the opportunity to see Grace again?

  When was the last time she had a female friend? Someone who was more than a co-worker? She couldn’t remember.

  An hour later, Grace and Avery were collecting their winnings and talking a fair amount of trash. Her cheeks hurt from smiling. She hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. Matt was right. She really did need a night out.

  She looked across the room at Matt spread out on the sofa. He was talking and laughing with his friends, relaxed in a way that made him even more attractive. She hardly thought that was possible.

  He looked up and caught her staring. His lips curved in a soft smile before winking at her with something entirely not soft. A tremor ran down her spine, heat pooling in her belly.

  She’d once loved him so deeply. And she couldn’t deny that some of those feelings still existed. And her body was ten steps ahead of her head and heart. He was going to be gone soon. What if she gave into her body’s cravings? Would that be so bad? One night. No past. No future. Just now. Images of him, braced over her, filled her head. Heat spread through her body.

  She needed some air.

  She broke eye contact with Matt and spun on her heel, hurriedly moving toward the open balcony. When she stepped outside, she tried to pull in a deep breath, but her chest wouldn’t expand. Whether it was the hazy, humid July heat or something else, she couldn’t be sure.

  She was sure of one thing, though. She would not have a panic attack in front of these people. She tried for another steadying breath and counted back, slowly, from ten.

  “You okay?” came an all-too-familiar voice from behind her.

  “Trying,” she answered. It was the most honest answer she’d given anyone in a long time.

  He stepped behind her, his chest flush with her back. She waited for another anxiety spike, but it didn’t come. Instead, her breathing evened out and the pain in her chest loosened.

  “Hold me,” she said, barely over a whisper.

  She could sense his surprise, but he said nothing, simply wrapping his arms around her middle and pulling her tighter against his chest.

  “If I remember, tight is better than loose. Is that still right?”

  “Yes,” she breathed out. He remembered so many things about her. What did she remember? His easy laugh. His gifts on stage. How it felt to lie naked next to him. How carefully he loved her, in and out of bed.

  Awareness shot through her. She wanted that again. She wanted to watch him slowly remove his clothes and climb into bed with her, kissing his way down her body and making love to her like there was no place he’d rather be.

  “Matt.” His name slipped out on an exhale.

  “What do you need, Mac?”

  Damn, that nickname. How could one syllable have so much power over her? “Take me home.”

  She felt his body tense. “I’m sorry. I should have known this might be too much for you. I just wanted you to meet my friends.”

  She spun to face him, his arms still bracketing her. “No, you don’t understand. Take me home—to your place.” She reached up on tippy-toes and brushed a soft kiss over his lips.

  She wanted to deepen the kiss, but there was a house full of people steps away.

  His eyes widened, and he ran a finger over her lower lip. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

  She nodded. Forming the words would make her second guess herself. And for once, she didn’t want to overthink something.

  “You’re sure? Only a week ago you wanted nothing to do with me.”

  That’s not true. I’ve always wanted all of you. That’s why I gave you up.

  “You don’t feel it?” she said, running a hand up his chest and pushing away her thoughts. Now was the time to channel Avery, not get caught up in Amy-Lynn’s complicated truths.

  He caught her hand. “I feel it. I never stopped feeling it.”

  “But?” she said, caught between embarrassment and lust. No, there was no room for embarrassment. Avery hadn’t gotten where she was without aski
ng for what she wanted.

  “But,” he said, twirling a piece of her hair around his finger. “There are a lot of unresolved things between us.”

  She looked up at him from underneath her lashes. “Maybe we could forget about all that for tonight?”

  Please say yes, she pleaded silently. If they started discussing the past, this probably wouldn’t happen.

  All she wanted was a single night before he left on tour and walked out of her life. Was it wrong to ask for sex with a secret hanging between them? Yes. Did it make her want him less? No.

  “I’d like to, Mac, so much. But it broke me when you left. I don’t know if I can survive that again. Lust and logic are having a knock-down-drag-out fight in my brain right now.”

  She knew exactly what he meant. It’s not like she broke up with him because she’d fallen out of love with him. She’d been facing the same battle since the morning he’d followed Celeste into the studio. But right now, all she wanted was to forget about her momma, Jessica, her father’s death, the radio show, and even the secret that stood between them for a little while. And it wasn’t just sex. She wanted to be held. She wanted to be in the arms of someone she trusted. Someone she loved.

  The word rattled through her with the subtlety of a spring thunderstorm. She still loved him. Did that make this a good idea or a careless one?

  “You don’t want me,” she said, giving him an out.

  He pulled her closer, and the hard line of his erection pressed into her belly. “Does that feel like I don’t want you?”

  She slipped a hand between them and ran a finger down his length, causing both of them to shiver in response.

  He leaned down, mumbling something about ‘questionable choices’ and kissed her. Not a brushing kiss like hers, but hard, nipping at her bottom lip. She gasped and his tongue swept against hers.

  It was like no time had passed. He remembered what she liked. She remembered the taste and feel of him. And she wanted more.

  He pulled back, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a flight of stairs.

  “You sure about this?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Okay. Find your handbag and let Grace know we’re leaving. I need a minute to take care of this situation.” He waved his hand in front of his zipper.

  She licked her lips and looked down. “I could help.”

  “No,” he laughed softly. “Not here, you can’t. And when did you become so bold?”

  “Years of fighting the patriarchy will do that to a girl.” Screw you, Amy-Lynn. Avery Lind for the win!

  A slow smile crept across his lips. “I like it.”

  She smirked. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Now go.” He gave her shoulder a playful shove. “I’ll come shortly.”

  “Yeah you will.” Her eyes widened at her brashness. Where was this coming from?

  Matt snorted, shaking his head, and biting back a smile. “Go.”

  She turned and chuckled under her breath. This new fearless attitude could really grow on her.

  Matt watched Amy-Lynn zigzag through outstretched legs and displaced furniture. Everything from the neck up told him this was not a good idea, but everything from the neck down held an opposing opinion.

  Maybe this was a good sign? Maybe her wanting him physically was her way of showing him she saw his potential.

  That could be it, right? She’d noticed his band was on an upward trajectory. He’d handled the show well yesterday. She’d said so herself.

  Or maybe it was just his dick talking.

  Either way, he couldn’t bring himself to turn down a night with her. He dreamed of this for over nine years.

  And if it was only one night? Could his heart sustain it?

  Did it matter? He was leaving in ten days. Nine shows and ten days. Professionally, this was likely a stupid decision.

  Or maybe not? Maybe it would help to get her out of his system. He laughed. Yeah, there was no part of him that bought that story.

  He followed her path through the living room and stopped where Grace and Avery stood talking.

  “Sorry to hear you’re leaving. Maybe the four of us could get together before you leave on tour?” Grace asked.

  “I’d like that,” Amy-Lynn responded, surprising Matt. Voluntarily getting together with people? Very unlike her. Well, unlike Amy-Lynn. Maybe Avery Lind was different? There was still so much he didn’t know about her current life.

  “Great,” Grace said, pulling Amy-Lynn into a hug and winking at him over her shoulder. “Get some good rest.”

  Matt rolled his eyes at Grace. The woman missed nothing.

  Grace reached for Amy-Lynn’s hand and squeezed it. “I’ll get your number from Matt and text you.”

  Avery thanked Grace again and Matt yelled to the remaining band members as they stepped into the entryway, but not before he heard Joe say, “So that was the infamous Avery Lind.”

  He hoped she hadn’t heard.

  As they walked to the car, he felt the need to close the gap that the last nine years had created.

  He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles before opening the car door. “I just want you to know that I rarely sleep with someone on the first date.” He desperately wanted her to tell him the same thing. Why? She was a grown woman who owed him no explanations.

  Still.

  He wanted to believe she hadn’t slept with anyone since him. Some kind of born-again-virgin-caveman bullshit.

  She smirked. “Good to know. But,” she said, “this is hardly our first date.”

  “Do you remember our first date?” he asked, stuck between not wanting to dredge up old memories and wanting to know she still thought about him, about them.

  “Of course,” she said, smiling. “High school gym, blue streamers, lingering haze of body odor.”

  Matt laughed. “That’s right. The boys’ basketball team had a game earlier that day.”

  “And I believe you scored the winning basket.”

  He laughed. “Could be. I wasn’t any good, but I had my growth spurt before the other guys. Just stood under the basket and threw it in the hoop when someone passed it to me.”

  She cocked her head, a smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. “You don’t remember?”

  “No. I was preoccupied.”

  “With?”

  “With the beautiful woman who’d agreed to go to the dance with me. I felt like the luckiest dude on the planet.”

  Avery’s cheeks prickled with dots of pink. “And our first dance was to ‘Put Your Records On.’”

  Matt shook his head. “No, I’m pretty sure it was a slower one. ‘Chasing Cars’ by Snow Patrol.”

  “Nope. No way. Did you just see me crush that song game? It was ‘Put Your Records On’ by Corrine Bailey Rae.”

  Matt lifted one hand from the steering wheel in defeat. “I won’t agree with you, but I surrender.”

  She smiled. “Smart man.”

  A couple of minutes of silence passed, each lost in thought.

  He knew more about her than the other handful of women he’d slept with, but it was old knowledge. He wanted—craved—more. But how to get her talking?

  He took her in, scanning from her feet to her forehead. “Tell me about the hair.”

  She ran a hand over the soft waves of raspberry hair. Blake had likened it to a red velvet cupcake. He wasn’t sure she’d appreciate the comparison.

  “It’s part of the brand, I guess.”

  “The brand?”

  “Avery Lind. When I started moving up through the Nashville radio scene, I wanted to stand out. Amy-Lynn McWilliams was a lost, grieving, small-town girl. I needed to leave her behind to find success.”

  And him too. Did she really believe she needed to leave him to find success? He’d always believed they’d been at their best together. Clearly, that was not a belief she shared.

  “I cut my hair and colored it. Started wearing what became a uniform, jeans and a jacket, quirky,
yet professional. You understand, no different from branding your band.”

  “I guess,” he said, pulling into the driveway of his apartment complex and hitting a button above his head to open the door to the underground parking. “But there are five of us, so it’s not all about me. Though the guys have taken to calling me Rhinestone Cowboy when I go a little over the top with the bling and belt buckles.”

  She looked him over, head to toe. “Always seeking attention.”

  More than she knew. “I’ve toned it down recently.”

  He killed the engine and rapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “This is it. You’re still sure?”

  She blinked a few times and chewed on the edge of a bright blue fingernail. “Kiss me.”

  He looked side-to-side, taking in the silent parking garage. Cold cement and exhaust fumes weren’t exactly his idea of romantic. “What? Here?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice even and matter of fact.

  “Okay.” He leaned across the console and placed a trail of kisses along her jaw. Her eyes fluttered closed. He moved to her luscious lips—god, she was beautiful—and kissed. Slow and easy, but with a longing he couldn’t hide.

  He pulled back, inches from her face, and let his forehead meet hers.

  She bit her bottom lip and ran her hands up his arms. “Totally sure.”

  He chuckled. “Was that a test?”

  She smiled. “Yes. But not for you. It was for me. You, Matt Taylor, have always known just how to kiss me.”

  Jesus. What was he supposed to do with that?

  “Wanna go upstairs and see if you remember the other stuff?” she asked before he could finish his thought.

  Hell yes, his body responded. His mind and heart couldn’t help wondering if this was magic or mistake—either way he wasn’t letting her get away this time. Even if it was only one night or a couple of hours. He would take whatever she was willing to give.

  Chapter Twelve

  Avery watched as Matt fumbled with the key in the lock. She wasn’t the only nervous one. She reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head on his back. She needed to touch him, or she’d chicken out. And she didn’t want to chicken out.