bit longer, and a couple more people come up to chat, one with me, and one with Luke about a horse for sale. Before long, it’s time for me to hit the stage.
As I step out on the small, makeshift stage I helped Hank build, a calm comes over me. Eyes being on me is usually something that irritates me, pricking at my skin like needles as people judge me.
Those poor Tannen boys. Did you hear about their mother? Did you hear about their father?
Bobby, he’s the nice one, though that’s not saying much because those brothers of his are hellions through and through. And the sister? Well, poor thing never had a chance.
Cross the street and don’t look him in the eye, or he’ll probably fly off the handle again. Anger management problems, the whole lot of them.
Pity he could never do anything with that God-given talent. Some people just don’t get the same opportunities as other folks do.
Here, onstage, none of that matters.
They think they know me because I stand up here and willingly bleed myself dry for their enjoyment. The truth is, I hold the power with every chord. I choose what I share, what stories to tell, and how they see me.
I’ve perfected several images. A rough cowboy with a heart of gold. The asshole who’ll beat the shit out of anyone who gets in his way. A hard-working farmer with a voice filled with gritty honesty. The man everyone wants but no one gets.
There’s truly only one person I care about in this crowd tonight, and she’s waving at me with her bar towel. I throw her a smile, knowing that she sees all of me and loves what she sees.
Love is real.
I get to work, planning to put on a hell of a show for Willow.
“Hi, everyone. I’m Bobby Tannen.”
With a strum of my strings, I play. Old songs, new songs, cover songs, and originals.
I do the schtick to encourage everyone to get a drink and tip their waitress and bartenders well. “Especially the blonde,” I add with a wink, and people laugh, the ladies saying ooh.
Sometime around my cover of Cody Jinks’s Loud and Heavy, I look over to find a guy in a blue polo shirt, khaki slacks, and clean boots leaning across the bar. Willow’s standing across from him.
He’s probably ordering a drink, man. Chill out.
But as I launch into the chorus again, the animal instinct in my gut says that’s not the case. Especially when those gray eyes cut to mine and she doesn’t smile. I damn near stop the song and use the microphone to tell this asshole to back away from her. But he’s not doing anything wrong. I just feel the need to piss on my territory again, even if I have to punch out another tourist to do it.
Instead, I use another weapon.
I look pointedly at Brutal and catch his eye, then look to Willow. He follows my gaze and immediately gets up to rescue her for me. We’re Tannens, and we’ve been looking out for each other for a long time. Now, we protect what’s important to us too, like Rix, Allyson, Cooper, and even the Bennetts.
And now Willow.
I finish the song and let my fingers dance aimlessly over the strings as I watch. Brutal looks back to me and lifts his chin. ‘All good, man.’
Willow’s eyes are dancing brightly now, and even from here, I can see the laughter in them. She blows me a kiss, and it’s the only thing that keeps me in place and singing the next song.
I finish my set and put Betty in her case, slipping her behind the curtain. I take a quick minute to go around back and wipe down because it’s hotter than Satan’s taint out there tonight with the huge crowd and lights.
Hank’s office door opens and Willow struts in like she owns the place. She basically does at this point, I think.
“Thinking of punching someone out again?” she teases.
“Worked last time . . . got you in here alone with me. Oh, and look . . . worked again. Seems pretty successful, if you ask me,” I reply dryly.
I put my hands on her hips, hooking my fingers through the beltloops, and pull her in close as I spin her. Her hands go to my chest, but I’ve got her, sure and steady as I pin her to the door with my body pressed against hers.