“Ready for a little hair of the dog?” Griff swaggers.
Alabama chuckles. “Think you can handle day drinkin’?”
He scoffs. “Hell, I ain’t that old.”
They link hands and walk down the cobblestone street to Galveston’s Strand Historic District. Griff and Alabama have another day off before the last week of their tour kicks off in their home state of Texas. In their downtime, they take in Galveston. It feels like a vacation, eating BBQ, visiting the Old Quarter Café to see where Townes Van Zandt used to play, and buying novelty T-shirts at cheesy tourist traps.
It’s been two weeks since Alabama and Griff’s public kiss. Ever since then it feels as if her entire universe has opened up. The media only has kind things to say, and while her father hasn’t returned her call about the winter tour, Alabama feels only relief. She’s back on top. With her music, with Griff, with the Nashville Star. Her own terms, without apology, without shame. And soon, she’ll have enough money to pay off her legal bills. It all has her feeling vibrant and unstoppable.
Griff tugs her to a stop outside an old bar with crumbling shutters and lit torches. Alabama lifts her face, shielding her eyes against the late afternoon sun.
“The Old Church,” she says, raising a brow at the name. “Isn’t that sacrilege?”
Griff’s smile is devilish. “You’re with me, ain’t you?”
She lightly slaps a palm against his chest. Then grips the front of his shirt and pulls him along with her. “C’mon, Greyson.”
They duck into the bar. It’s dim and noisy. The lounge furnished with plush leather seating and curved booths. At the far end of the room, pool tables, darts and high-tops take up most of the space.
They weave in and out of the bustling crowd, searching for a table. That’s when Alabama freezes in her boots.
It’s Luke Kincaid.
He’s at a pool table, surrounded by the rest of the Brothers Kincaid, his brother, Seth, and best friend, Jace. Next to Luke—his wife, Sal. As Alabama scans the group, she sees they wear the fatigue that comes with a tour. Just like Alabama and Griff, they’re here blowing off some steam on their day off. The last thing she wants to do is ruin it.
She pivots to Griff. “Let’s get out of here.”
“No way,” he says, staring past her. “We ain’t runnin’.”
Alabama’s stomach twists. The dark grin on Griff’s face says it all. Says he’s looking for trouble. “Don’t you dare,” she hisses, grasping Griff’s hand.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” His lip curls, his eyes still on Luke. “’Bout time I gave that guy a piece of my mind.”
With that, he stalks across the bar, leaving Alabama behind him.
“Damn you, Griff,” Alabama swears in exasperation. She hustles after him, but he’s already pulling up alongside the pool table.
“Hey, Kincaid,” Griff says and Luke glances up. “Fancy meetin’ you here.”
Luke’s dark eyes widen at the unannounced guest, the beer bottle dropping from his lips. His gaze flickers to Alabama, his expression shadowed with uncertainty.
“Greyson,” Luke answers easily. “How you doin’, Alabama?”
“Oh, we’re great.” Alabama gives Luke a forgive-me smile. “I’m sorry for the interruption.” Her hand shoots out to squeeze Griff’s arm, viselike, hoping he gets the message to exit the chat. “He’s mostly tame.”
Sal, at the other end of the pool table, smiles at her like there’s no trace of the past between them.
Seth keeps a close watch on his brother and Griff, his blue eyes blazing.
Alabama remembers last seeing Sal and Seth in a hotel room, where she explained the role she played in Mort setting up Luke. It had been awkward and uncomfortable, but she owed Sal that explanation.
Griff pretends to scour the crowd. “You here with Mort Stein?” he asks carelessly. Alabama closes her eyes, wanting to drop through the floor. Though it’s no secret there’s no love lost between Griff and the Brothers Kincaid, she’s not thrilled he’s planning to hassle Luke. A man who doesn’t deserve his wrath. A man who’s been nothing but kind to her when she tried to wreck his world.
Luke stiffens, and his bandmates drift to his side, their stances tense.
“No,” Luke says evenly. “I ain’t here with Mort. I broke it off, and you know that, Greyson.”
“Worry about your own career,” Seth snaps. “If you still got one.”