The McGavin Brothers
Book 4

His muse just strolled in...

Getting left at the altar killed the music in Bryce McGavin’s soul. But when a guitar-toting redhead with the voice of an angel walks into the Guzzling Grizzly and asks for an audition, his toe starts tapping. Maybe there’s life in his battered heart after all. Unfortunately, wooing Nicole Williams means dusting off his guitar…and convincing her attack cat to let him through the front door. A wise man might leave well enough alone. But Bryce never was a wise man...

Excerpt

Nicole sank onto the cushions of the oversized chair and it enveloped her like a hug. When she scooted all the way back, her feet dangled. She relaxed against the soft upholstery. Nice.
“You were rocking out tonight. Whenever I glanced over, you had that pick going a mile a minute.” Bryce deftly threaded the string onto the tuning peg.
Something about this situation was giving her a buzz. “I got excited because everyone’s so enthusiastic.”
“Understandable.”
Maybe it was the intimacy of his small apartment. Or his nimble fingers touching her guitar, which was so much a part of her. “Cozy place.”
“Thanks. It works for me.”
And it was working on her. Enveloped by his chair, she focused on the supple movement of his fingers. Would he caress a woman with the care he was lavishing on her guitar? Her skin grew warm.
“That should do it.” He bent the excess string back and forth until it snapped off neatly. “Tune that baby and you’re good to go.” He picked up the guitar and stood.
“Thank you.” Taking a calming breath, she tried to push herself out of the chair. It was easier said than done.
“Here.” He offered his hand. “That chair can swallow you if you’re not careful.”
“So I see.” She grasped his hand and he pulled her to her feet. The strength of his firm grip left her tingling all over. “It’s a great chair.”
“Trev would disagree with you. He cussed me out the whole time he helped me get it up here.”
“He’ll be cussing you out some more if we don’t get a move on.”
“That’s a fact.” He said it casually as if it didn’t bother him much.
Instead he stood there looking at her as if…no, he wouldn’t consider kissing her. Not with a crowd of people downstairs.
“We’d better go.” His voice sounded husky.
“Yep.” Her pulse raced. He was thinking about kissing her. And she’d let him, even if it meant she’d be a little late getting to the stage.


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Copyright 2001-2019 Vicki Lewis Thompson