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“Oh, Drew. Drew. Drew.” She heaved out a dramatic sigh. “If I was afraid for even a second that I was catching feelings for you, that admission would be enough to quash them.”
She laughed, but Drew had a hard time finding any humor in her words. They’d been together nearly every evening for going on two weeks. She hadn’t caught even afewfeelings in that time?
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“Well, first there’s the whole hating-you-for-most-of-my-life thing. Granted, I haven’t been entirely fair to you on that front—”
“Not fair at all,” he interjected.
She shrugged. “Yes, I know. I’m working on it. But that’s not the only reason.” She gestured in the area of his chest. “That Omega symbol branded into your pec? My dad belongs to that fraternity. And now I find out you love blues music too.”
“Again, what’s the problem with blues?”
“All three of my siblings are named after blues musicians, because that’s just how big a fan Kenneth Kelley is of the genre. He’s been playing with a local cover band for years. Which means, Drew Sullivan, you’re basically my dad.” She leaned forward and pretended to hurl. “If the sex wasn’t so good, I would break off this thing we have going right this instant.”
Well, fuck. He should just go ahead and tell her how obsessed he’d been with her back in high school. Her reaction couldn’t make him feel any worse.
“Why do you look so sad?” she asked with a laugh.
“In the span of five minutes I went from being the guy you like giving blow jobs to, to the guy who reminds you of your dad. I want to throw myself in that river over there.”
She laughed even harder.
“Come on,” she said, rising from her perch on the rock wall and tugging at his arm. “There’s only one way for me to make this up to you.”
They continued east on the walking trail, but after a few steps, Drew stopped.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He hooked his thumb back over his shoulder. “My apartment is that way. Unless we have different ideas about how you can make up for comparing me to your dad?”
“I guess there’s more than one way to make it up to you,” she said. “We can do both. But, for now, let’s go find out where that music is coming from.”
19
They came upon the band exactly where London expected to find them, performing in the small semicircular plaza where Colorado and Cesar Chavez Streets met. The open space butted up to the river, providing a gorgeous view of downtown Austin’s south shore. A faint breeze blew off the water. It was cool, but not too cold. Still, London was glad she’d grabbed her knit cardigan from her office before leaving the hospital.
A sizable crowd had gathered to enjoy the band. This was Austin, after all. The music lovers in this city didn’t wait for the weekend to have their fun.
She and Drew stood several feet back, away from the crowd. Drew leaned against the railing that surrounded the plaza, his arms folded across his chest, one foot tapping in time to Double Trouble’s “Love Struck Baby.”
“I’ll be honest,” London said. “I never pegged you as a Stevie Ray Vaughn fan.”
He peered over at her, his arched brow suggesting that he was impressed. “So, you know blues music, you just don’t like it?”
“You don’t have to know blues to know Stevie Ray Vaughn. There’s a statue of him just across the river there,” she said. “But, yes, I do know music. I was in our high school marching band, after all.”
“You were not.”
“Excuse me,” London said, heavy on the affront. “I played clarinet from the ninth grade to the middle of my junior year, thank you very much.”
Drew’s mouth dropped open. “Are you telling me I missed seeing you in that bright orange band uniform by a matter of months?”
“That’s right.” She nodded. “I looked pretty damn sharp in that uniform. Especially with those shiny spats over my boots and that Mohawk-looking plume down the center of the helmet.”
“Name your price,” Drew said. “I will pay anything to see you in that uniform again.”
She burst out laughing. “Or you can just find an old yearbook and see it for free. I’m sure there’s a bunch of them floating around. There was probably one at the reunion.”
