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And walked out.
The door to the bar slammed behind him, and for a moment, she couldn’t move. Had she done something wrong? Had she missed a note?
Alex was staring at the door, looking confused. Marley was running his hands through his hair.
Cassie glanced at the closed door. “Did I do something wrong?”
Marley shook his head. “No. You were perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
Then what? She pulled the piano lid shut and stood. “Well, thank you for your time.”
“It wasn’t you. That’s not why he ran out,” Marley said. He looked annoyed for the first time. The resemblance to his twin was even stronger now.
“He ran out because he’s an asshole,” Alex muttered.
“That’s my brother you’re talking about,” Marley murmured.
She felt like she was in the middle of something she shouldn’t be. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to walk away.
“The song was played at his wife’s funeral,” Marley said. “That’s why he walked out.”
It was like somebody had thrown a bucket of water over her. She’d chosen his wife’s funeral song? Of all the songs she could have chosen, why that one?
She took a deep breath. She didn’t know. It wasn’t her fault. There was nothing on the flier to say what songs were off limits.
“You sang it well. Really well.” Alex was smiling at her. She got the impression he might even be flirting but she couldn’t be sure.
She didn’t have a radar for that kind of thing.
“Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “I should go.”
“We’ll be in touch,” Marley promised.
“Okay.” She was pretty sure they wouldn’t be. If accusing Presley of being a neglectful father wasn’t bad enough, she’d played the one song guaranteed to rub him the wrong way.
The likelihood of her joining his band was about the same as the likelihood of her hitting number one on the Billboard charts.
And that was fine. Seriously. She didn’t even want to be in it.
She walked across the sticky floor of the bar, toward the door Presley had stormed out of. She could hear Alex and Marley talking softly to each other, no doubt dissecting the shit show that she’d just been part of, as she pulled open the door and stepped outside.
Smack bang into the one person she wanted to see the least.
Damn, it was like walking into a cast iron suit of armor. The wind rushed out of her as she tried to keep herself from stumbling back.
With reactions that were faster than hers, Presley’s hand shot out to steady her, his fingers closing around hers as he pulled her toward him.
The man was made of pure, thick muscle. The kind you got from a hard days’ labor.
What was she supposed to be doing? Oh yeah, breathing. That was it. That would be good.
If she could just remember how.
“Sorry. I was just going back in,” he said, frowning down at her. “Are you okay?”
Her lungs finally inflated. The relief was so sweet she wanted to smile. “I didn’t see you.”
“Ditto.”
