Can't Walk Away Read online

  Thanks, Juice, Chelsea, and Reba.

  Those women represented the kind of country singer she hoped she was—a singer who took risks, who sang songs that meant something rather than churning out silly tunes that jumped on whatever the trend was. Her tactic had worked well the first time she’d stepped into the country music world. She’d started to build a nice fan base.

  And then…

  Nope. Not going to feel sorry for myself. Never again.

  Her mother’s mantra echoed in Savannah’s mind, a mantra that had helped her through the last five years of hell.

  “Everything happens for a reason.”

  Perhaps her budding career had died because it simply wasn’t her turn. After the warm reception from the audience, she now had hope that her time had finally arrived—she could support herself with her singing and bid waitressing good-bye.

  She had no illusions of being the next hot ticket, nor was that what she wanted for herself. Just a modest living singing at small venues, doing commercial jingles, or even backing up big names when they were near Nashville would allow her to provide for her family in a way she could never do waiting tables. That’s what she wanted. What she’d needed.

  When she’d finally made the decision to try for her dream again, she’d worked up some guts and dove right into the deep end.

  And she’d been able to swim just fine.

  Randy held up his hand, waiting for her to give him a high five.

  Savannah obliged, even as he grinned and raised his hand a little higher as a tacit tease about her height. Or lack thereof.

  “You kicked some ass tonight, pretty lady,” he said as the next act launched into their first song.

  “Thanks. And thanks so much for letting me have a third song. I sure didn’t expect it.”

  Randy nodded toward the bar. “The bosses want to talk to you.”

  Shifting her gaze to the bar, she found her bosses standing there—Brad Maxwell pouring drinks, Russ Green and Ethan Walker sitting on stools. “About?”

  “You’ll hafta ask them.”

  Setting her guitar case out of the way, she said, “Then I should go talk to them.”

  “You do that.” Randy patted her shoulder. “You really did kick some ass out there, and I’m not just blowin’ smoke.”

  “Thanks, Randy,” she said before heading to the bar. Practically floating on air, she made her way through Words & Music.

  The place was packed, and despite the fact that a new act was performing, several people stopped her as she wove her way through the high-top tables. She smiled with each kind word about her performance. By the time she reached the bar, she had a broad smile on her face.

  “Well, well, well,” Ethan said when she took the stool next to his. “Aren’t you full of surprises tonight, Ms. Wolf?”

  “I suppose I am,” she replied. Then she shifted her gaze to Brad. “Randy told me you wanted to talk to me.”

  After setting the beer he’d just poured on one of the empty trays, Brad nodded. His blue eyes found Savannah’s.

  The color was so vivid that she could only compare them to the ocean surrounding Saint Bart’s that she’d seen so very long ago. The intensity of his stare almost made her glance away.

  “You were really great up there,” he said.

  Her face heated as her smile returned. Here was the validation she needed from a man who had once upon a time been a successful songwriter. One day she’d find the nerve to ask why he’d stopped composing and now owned a bar.

  “Quite a performance,” Ethan said with a pat on the back.

  She’d met Ethan at her interview. He’d hired her on the spot when he found out she was a single mother. His compassion had amazed her. Most people who came from money couldn’t seem to realize exactly how hard it was for other people to earn it. He’d been around the restaurant from time to time to see how things were going for her and the other waitresses, and he always had a kind word for their hard work.

  Ethan’s hand dropped away. “Funny thing about seeing you onstage…”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?”

  “Brad didn’t even recognize you.”

  Russ barked out a laugh as the scowl Brad leveled at Ethan was hot enough to set the place on fire.

  “What?” Ethan’s grin could only be described as cheeky. “You didn’t, did you?”

  Brad held his tongue.

  It wasn’t as though she was surprised. Ethan had interviewed and hired her. Russ had been in charge of most of her shifts. And the head waitress, Cheyanne, had trained her. The only times she’d seen Brad were on busy weekend nights. There had to be at least a twenty-five servers working on Fridays and Saturdays. She was only one among many who wore the same red T-shirts with the Words & Music logo and black shorts. Since Brad requested that the waitresses keep their hair in neat ponytails, they tended to look like Stepford servers.

  Plus, she’d only added the blue highlights to her hair three days ago. From his perspective, Savannah was nothing more than another short, skinny blond waitress. As manager of the place, he’d probably seen hundreds.

  She tried to put him at ease. Not because he was her boss but because he looked so awfully uncomfortable at Ethan’s teasing. “So you didn’t recognize me?”

  Brad shook his head.

  “No wonder. For pity’s sake, you must have to supervise more than a hundred people a day to make this place run as well as it does.”

  His frown eased then morphed into a crooked smile. “Did you really just say ‘for pity’s sake’?”

  Savannah folded her arms under her breasts, not quite sure of his motives. Sure, it sounded like he was teasing. But he was, after all, the man who signed her paycheck. “I did.”

  “Who says that?” Since his voice held a bantering lilt, she eased her stance.

  “My mom. My grandma. Pretty much everyone.”

  “Not anyone I’ve ever known,” he announced.

  If he was open to joking, she could give as good as she got. “At least I recognized you.”

  “Touché.” With a flourish of his hand, he gave her a corny bow. “I admit it. I didn’t recognize you.”

  “Seriously, though,” she continued, “I don’t know how you do it, but this restaurant is the best organized one I’ve ever worked for.” Not an idle compliment. She really did enjoy her shifts, although not enough to give up her dream and become a lifelong waitress. But for now, it paid the bills.

  “Thanks,” he said in an aw shucks manner. He pushed a wayward lock of his tawny hair away from his eyes. The man was in desperate need of a proper haircut since his hair was neither short nor long. Just somewhere in between, which gave it an unkempt look.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Brad waved to the stage manager, who came to join them. As Randy made his way through the crowd, Brad whispered something to Ethan and then to Russ. Both nodded as smiles broke out on their faces. Then he said something quietly to Randy. His grin was every bit as broad.

  Finally turning back to Savannah, Brad put his hand on her shoulder. “Looks like your waitressing here is moot now anyway.”

  Savannah cocked her head. “It is?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  Since all the men were still smiling, she felt as though she’d missed some joke. There was clearly something they knew that she didn’t. “And exactly why is it moot, Brad?” she asked.

  “Because you’re going to be our new opening act,” he replied.

  Chapter Two

  Brad savored Savannah’s surprised expression. Her reactions seemed direct and honest. Having been married to a woman who’d done nothing but play her stupid head games on him, he couldn’t help but appreciate a lady who said exactly what she thought and didn’t try to disguise what she felt. Her sincerity was a trait he enjoyed.

  “What I’d like is for you to be our warm-up act. The Freaky Geeks took an out-of-town gig, and I was going to start auditioning for a new act tomorrow. But I g
ot lucky. The perfect opening act landed right in my lap.”

  “You want me to sing for you?” She eyed him skeptically. “Just like that?”

  His gut knew talent when he heard it. This woman was going places, and Words & Music would be the perfect springboard. It didn’t hurt that having someone like her get her start in his place would add to the partners’ reputation for nurturing future stars. Hiring her to sing was a win-win scenario. “Just like that.”

  “Would the money be as good as waitressing?” Savannah asked. “I make pretty decent tips and—”

  “We’ll make it worth your while,” Brad replied.

  That dimple of hers was going to be the death of him. It was so irresistible that he suddenly wanted to tug her into his arms and kiss her stupid. He wondered how she’d react if he told her exactly what he was thinking. Then he grew angry at himself as he wondered what in the hell had gotten into him where Savannah was concerned.

  The last thing in the world he needed in his life was a woman, and he most certainly had no business getting involved with his talent.

  He dismissed the weird attraction and focused on business. “We’ll start at a higher wage than what you’re making now waiting tables—including tips. That I promise you.”

  “Should we talk contracts?” she asked.

  “We should,” he replied. “Who’s your agent?”

  “Don’t have one.”

  “Manager?”

  “Nope.”

  Of course she didn’t have someone handling her and her career. With a voice like hers, if she had representation, that manager would already be fielding deals. Brad decided to offer Savannah a lesson in the music business. “Then I’ve got a couple of names and numbers for you. Either would be a good agent who’ll make sure— Why are you shaking your head?”

  “I don’t want an agent,” she insisted.

  “You’re gonna have to trust me on this, Savannah…Without an agent or a manager, someone’s gonna take advantage of you.”

  She let out a small snort. “Yeah, like that manager.”

  He tried not to take offense. “I’d only give you the names of people who’ve earned my trust. Not all managers and agents are crooks and— Okay, why are you shaking your head again?”

  “Look,” Savannah said, sounding as if she were speaking to someone who clearly didn’t understand something, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do. But I’m not gonna hire another manager. Is that a deal breaker for you?”

  His focus was on the one word she’d emphasized. “Another?”

  A wave of her hand indicated the topic was closed. “It’s a long story.”

  “You can tell us,” Ethan encouraged.

  “Maybe another time…”

  Brad shrugged. “Have it your way.”

  “I always do.” Such a saucy reply accompanied by a determined stance.

  He still wanted to kiss her for it.

  This one could easily get under his skin, but he’d be damned if he let any woman bring him down again.

  Then it began, so softly it took him a moment to realize exactly what was happening. One note. Another. A chord. Until the tune was like a flower bud slowly opening in his mind.

  It had been such a long time. So damn long. Why now? Why all of a sudden was his head filled with music—his own newborn song?

  He didn’t fight it. He’d learned a long time ago that trying to ignore a melody that was forming in his mind was useless. The song would always have its way.

  “I need to go,” Brad announced abruptly, trying to keep the excitement that bordered on panic from his voice. He needed a pencil and some paper to capture the melody that refused to be ignored. He also needed to give Savannah one last piece of information. “Come in tomorrow morning at nine and we’ll talk.”

  Without another word, he turned and hurried away.

  * * *

  Savannah blinked a couple of times, not entirely sure what had just happened. One moment, Brad Maxwell was talking about giving her a job singing, the next he was practically running away.

  Did he think he’d just made a mistake?

  “Was it something I said?” she asked.

  Russ surprised her with a reply to her rhetorical question. “Not at all. He sometimes thinks of something he should be doing and walks away without a word. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was composing again.” He shrugged. “I guess we’re all used to it. At least you got a lot of conversation out of him before he ran off.”

  Since Randy had nodded along with Russ, she supposed he’d seen Brad acting that way as well. “So he wasn’t upset?”

  “Nah,” Ethan replied. “If you knew him as well as I do, you’d realize something important.”

  “Which is?”

  “He thinks you’re gonna be a star.”

  “What?”

  “Ethan’s right,” Randy said. “I ain’t never seen Brad jump on an act like that before. When he hired the Freaky Geeks, he made ’em audition three times. They almost told him to take his job and stick it.”

  “Like I said,” Ethan added. “The guy sees something in you, Savannah.”

  She knew nothing about the terms of the offer, even less about how this job would change her life. She needed backup musicians. Would they be provided, or would she have to pay them? When he said he’d pay her more than she made now, exactly how much did he mean?

  Oh, hell. Who was she kidding? Savannah would take the job even if Brad Maxwell wanted her to pay for the privilege.

  Trying for a career as a singer again was about taking risks. She’d have to invest in recording more songs, which could be expensive if done right. But she’d vowed to keep control of her own career this time and not let some thief of a manager or some big label recording studio steer her away from her goals. No, she was a proud “indie,” and she intended to stay that way.

  Taylor Swift could keep her stadiums, and Chelsea Wright could keep her limelight. All Savannah wanted were places like Words & Music. And now, it seemed, Brad was helping her take a huge step toward that goal.

  The man used to be called the “Hitman” because of the prolific number of songs he wrote that found their ways to the bestsellers’ charts. Even though his last chart tune was over four years ago—a fun song called “She and Me”—Savannah was thrilled he’d taken notice of her.

  She smiled at Ethan, Russ, and Randy and asked the only question that really mattered. “So…when do I hit the stage again?”

  * * *

  The notes were pounding through his brain.

  How long had it been since a song came so easily? Hell, how long had it been since a song came at all?

  Years. Ever since…

  Brad blocked any painful thoughts of the past. If he wanted to dwell on Katie’s death—or her betrayal—he’d have to do it some other time when he wasn’t in the middle of writing a new song.

  A song inspired by Savannah Wolf.

  There had only been one woman to serve as his muse.

  Katie.

  He’d loved her. More than he ever thought possible. Once she’d come into his life, he’d done everything he could to make her happy. Letting her pretend she was helping with the lyrics to his songs. Taking her to every party so they could be “seen” with all the right people. Introducing her to every star she’d badgered him to meet.

  Then, she was gone.

  He’d thought the Hitman had died when he’d lost her. But he’d been wrong. The music had still been there, softer and full of hurt, but quietly humming in his head. No, the Hitman hadn’t died until the day when he’d learned the whole sordid truth about Katie.

  And that truth had devastated him.

  God, but he’d tried to bury that part of himself—and the humiliation that came with learning of Katie’s betrayal—not long after her funeral. Once the truth had clubbed him over the head, he’d shoved all the bullshit aside and acted as though his marriage hadn’t even existed. There’d been no c
areer in music, no long string of hit songs. For a couple of years, there’d been only trysts with nameless women, far too many for him to remember. There’d been nights of drinking and debauchery. He’d been trying to forget in every new face and at the bottom of every glass.

  The support of his friends had rescued him. Ethan and Russ had brought Words & Music into his life and given him something else to fill the empty hours.

  The restaurant had given Brad a new purpose, a reason to get out of bed every morning—well, afternoon. Mornings simply weren’t his thing. But he’d found a motive to get up and go to work and keep putting one foot in front of the other. So he’d left behind anything that tied him to life with Katie and the other fakes in the recording business.

  For a few months after he’d started working with his partners, he’d kept his womanizing ways, never seeing a woman more than once and never spending a whole night with any of them. He hated himself for how he treated those women, but they distracted him.

  Now, the more time he spent at the bar, the more he began to pity and then loathe people who used other people. So he’d given up drinking and had abandoned the pickup routine altogether. He was content to live in the moment now and pretend the pain of the past hadn’t been real.

  Sure, he might be compartmentalizing his life, but some days, surviving was the best he could manage. The only thing that mattered was his job, this place. And the only time that mattered was the present.

  Until Savannah Wolf turned on the music again.

  Why?

  Why her?

  Why now?

  He didn’t have time to ponder. Scrawling notes across the hastily drawn staff, crooked lines and all, he struggled to seize the tune. The words were there as well, coming almost too quickly to capture. He sang the phrases just above a whisper, over and over until they were committed to paper. Why hadn’t he kept all of his blank pages with their nice straight lines and beautifully printed clefs?