"Yeah. Thanks for asking." He grabbed a plate and filled half of it, then took a seat.

"So, Tommy, you gonna play at open mic night this week?" Eric asked.

Tommy was their sound technician and looked the part, complete with grunge clothing, long hair, and two fully tattooed sleeves. His ink was sweet, though. Marco had never gotten any tatts because they too easily identified you in the field, but that wasn't standing in his way anymore, was it?

Tommy shrugged. "If the spirit moves me. We'll see."

Marco looked up from his plate. "I vote for playing. Your music is brilliant. That shit needs to be shared."

Tommy's mouth dropped open as if Marco had sprouted three heads. Was it so fucking unusual for him to participate in casual conversation? From the way they were all gawking at him, apparently so. After a long moment, Tommy recovered. "You play anything?"

"I was good at guitar and passable on the piano. But I haven't played much in a few years and my left hand is not what it used to be. Not sure if I could even manage a bar chord, as weak as it is right now." He swallowed another bite, feeling everyone's gazes on him. He looked around. "So, who asked Alyssa out?" he asked, working hard at nonchalance but probably failing, judging by the way his gut clenched.

Tommy and Van developed a bad case of shifty eyes and Eric became fascinated by the food on his plate, identifying him as the culprit.

"Hey, Alyssa?" Van called.

Marco cut his glare away from Eric and looked over his shoulder.

She leaned around the doorjamb but didn't meet his gaze. "Hey, guys," she said softly, her witty, outgoing demeanor nowhere to be seen. Marco willed her to look at him.

"Join us," Van said.

"No, that's all right. I already ate. Thanks, though," she said quietly. With a quick wave, she disappeared into the hall.

Was this shift ever going to end? Pete had only given her three tables for her first time going solo, and that wasn't nearly enough to keep her mind off of the abject humiliation that still burned through her over the scene in the green room that morning.

It didn't help that Marco kept trying to engage her in conversation every time she placed a drink order. But talking was the last thing she wanted to do. She needed another lecture like she needed a hole in her head and, if she were being honest, she felt horrible about comparing him to her dad. Had she ever said anything less true or more unfair? She'd just been so mad at herself for doing something she knew she shouldn't have done and embarrassed that, of all people, Marco had been the one to find her. In one fell swoop, she'd undone her efforts to prove to him she was a woman who could take care of herself, not a child who still needed his help.

And that made her heart hurt because the more time she spent in Marco's presence, the more she suspected what she felt for him extended well beyond a crush or the love she'd expected. True, he wasn't the same easygoing boy she'd known. He'd grown into a complicated man who radiated a quiet, hurting intensity she found utterly attracting. The haunting echoes of the horrors he'd survived cast shadows in his eyes and over his very body, and in that darkness she saw the hurts she bore from her own childhood. That they now shared a soul-deep pain called to her, made her want-no, need-to ease his burden. After all, how many times had he been there for her? Just once, she wanted to be that person for him.

He wasn't the only one who had changed. She used to be so shy it was painful, but therapy, self-defense classes, and a freshman roommate who had been the biggest extrovert on the planet combined to make her stronger, more independent, and more outgoing. After so many years of letting others take care of her, not wanting to ask for help was now her biggest weakness. She knew herself well enough to recognize that. Put plainly, she'd become stubborn and downright determined to prove she didn't need anyone's help. Not anymore.

Finally, the early show ended and the last customer filed out. Alyssa had been so stuck in her head all afternoon, she couldn't have described the band or its music if her life depended on it. To prepare for the evening show, the waitstaff collected all the condiment bottles, and she and Kim stood at a counter in the kitchen topping them off.

"How'd your first service go?" Kim asked.

Alyssa worked at a smile. "It was fine."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I'm just not quite myself today."

"Why don't you go out and enjoy this beautiful day. Maybe that'll help." Kim bumped her shoulder.

"I will."

Kim set down a bottle of ketchup. "So what are you waiting for?" Alyssa frowned. "Go now, girl."

"B-but," she sputtered. "We're not done yet."

"Correction: I'm not done yet. You go. I'll finish here. Really. This job's a marathon, not a sprint, and you've been working extra hours every day since you started. Go on now."

Alyssa hesitated for a moment before the need to escape this day became too strong to resist. "You are my new favorite person, Kim. Thank you."

In the lounge, Alyssa clocked out, grabbed her purse, then made a straight shot for her car. She had a date with a hotel receptionist, iTunes, and a poolside deck chair at her little hotel.

Her car was broiling, so she rolled the windows all the way down. First an apartment, then maybe a new used car with air-conditioning that actually worked? She could dream.

She drove across the rear lot to the side exit. From the corner of her eye, she caught someone barreling out the back door. Had someone called her name? If so, whatever it was could wait until tomorrow.

Thankfully, it was a short drive to the hotel. The light turned green at the intersection in front of her destination, and a flash of movement in her rearview mirror captured her notice. Was that...no! She eased the Corolla into a parking space near the front lobby, anger and exasperation filling her chest in equal measure.

Betty rocketed into the space beside her.

Marco jumped out of the Mustang and rounded the back of his car to her driver's side. She opened her door and got out, closing it harder than she meant to. "What are you-"

"Just listen for a minute, okay?" He braced his hands on either side of the car's roof, boxing her in.

All the fight drained out of her, and she sagged back against her door. His expression was tense and uncertain. And, oh, that face-if men could be beautiful, then he truly was. "Okay."

"You're not staying here. Not anymore."

Her exasperation returned. "Uh, yeah. I am. I looked all over my first night in town. This place has the cheapest rates."

Marco closed his eyes and shook his head. "No. Damn." He released a long breath. "I suck at talking to you, don't I?"

"Yeah. Kinda."

He looked at her for a long moment until finally one side of his lips curved into a crooked grin. Her heart tripped over itself at its appearance. If she'd thought him beautiful before...

He reached up, slowly, and curled a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

His fingers caressed her skin in a slow slide she felt everywhere. Man, she'd always crushed on Marco, but she didn't remember her body ever aching for his touch the way it did now, but then she remembered what they were talking about-him helping her.

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. "I was going to talk to you after work, but you left before I found you. What I meant to say is, I want you to come stay with me."