Geronimo (A Songbird Novel) Read Free

night.”
    “It’s not so bad.” I lifted my chin at the stage. “I like this song.”
    “You’re not the only one.” Devan tipped her head toward the round table to my right, and I glanced at the redhead again.
    She was bobbing her head in time to the beat, a soft smile pulling at her lips.
    “Do you know anything?” I took another sip of beer, wondering why I was so curious. It wasn’t like I wanted to get involved with another girl. I’d learned from experience that love could rip your heart out. I’d only just gotten it back inside my chest; I wasn’t about to risk losing it all over again.
    I turned away, reminding myself not to be a fool.
    “All I know is that she came in here yesterday and booked a room for two nights. She sounds American to me.”
    “Right.” I nodded then shook my head, hunching over the bar and resisting the urge to approach her.
    I didn’t even understand it. I wasn’t interested!
    Inevitably, my gaze traveled back, drawn by her red hair…or maybe the distant, familiar look in her eyes. She nibbled her bottom lip, then took a breath and crossed something off on her sheet of paper. Blinking rapidly, she stared at the sheet, the paper trembling ever so slightly in her hands.
    “Go on.” Devan flicked my shoulder. “Show some courage, man. There’s no harm in talking to her.”
    “Be More Barrio” finished, and like some kind of sign from the gods, the guitarist started in with the familiar riff of “Geronimo.” I knew the song before the lead singer had even opened his mouth. It had become a favorite of mine.
    Spinning on my stool, I gulped down the rest of my beer and slapped the mug on the counter. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I straightened my shirt, whispered “Geronimo,” and walked toward the lonely redhead and her mysterious sheet of paper.

 
    Chapter Three
     
    Jane
     
     
    I sensed him approaching and turned as he closed the distance. I had no idea who he was or why he wanted to talk to me.
    I mean, I guess I had some vague idea. But I’d been out of the dating scene for a very long time. In fact, I’d met Blake in my first couple of weeks at Stanford, so I kind of felt like I’d never really been in the dating scene.
    I wasn’t interested of course, but I didn’t want to be rude, so when the scruffy-haired, unshaven guy stopped by my table and gave me a kind smile, I reciprocated.
    My lips felt stiff and awkward, and I looked back to the stage the second after our eyes met.
    “Hi, um…” He raised his hand in greeting. “Hi.”
    “Hello,” I clipped then bit my lips together, keeping my head away from him but aware of everything out of the corner of my eye—the long dimples that formed on his cheeks when he grinned, the way his sharp nose twitched as his eyes darted to the rumpled piece of paper on the table. Sliding the list into my hand, I folded it and tucked it away in my back pocket.
    “I hope you don’t mind me just coming up to you like this. I’m not interested in trying to woo you or get you to have sex with me. Don’t get me wrong, you’re very attractive. I’m just… I’m not interested…in that. I mean, I like sex, very much, but I’m not standing here with some classy one-liner up my sleeve and a bunch of ulterior motives. I just wanted to make that clear before I introduced myself. Although, after this completely absurd first impression, I’m guessing you’ll be kicking me back to the bar any moment now.”
    Oh man, he was adorable.
    His accent combined with the nervous drivel coming out of his mouth… I couldn’t help a little snort and snicker. I slapped my hand over my mouth and nose, my shoulders shaking as I tried to contain my laughter.
    The guy winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind if I start again?”
    “By all means.” I giggled.
    “Okay.” He nodded and then puffed out a breath, sticking out his hand and saying, “Hi, my name’s Harry Tindal. I live here in the lovely town