All For You (Rocktown Ink #5) by Sherilee Gray (world of reading .txt) 📕

Not freaking likely.

Tingles danced over my scalp, something that happened a lot when I listened to that jackass’s voice. I mean, he had a great voice, too bad about the personality. He probably looked like a toad, short with a paunch from too many donuts. Maybe one of those bushy handlebar mustaches like the old sheriff had.

Yes, Quinn was hot, but that didn’t mean her dickish brother had been blessed with the same awesome genes.

I shoved my phone back in my purse and shook it off. There was nothing I could do about it now.

Quinn was the best—funny, warm, loyal. Her brother was a nightmare.

Mase was newly divorced—big surprise there—and moving home to Rocktown after being offered the job of sheriff. Since Quinn had been kind enough to offer me a place to park my trailer when I needed one—and Gran and I had painted and wallpapered houses to make money while we traveled around—I’d offered up my services.

The house had been the Parker family home, and when her dad moved away, Quinn lived in it until she shacked up with her husband, Bull. Now Mase would be living there. The place was pretty but tired.

Quinn had passed on my offer to her brother, and he’d accepted. He’d been a thorn in my butt ever since.

Shoving that jackass out of my head, I marched up to the bar and yanked the door open. A wave of sound and heat hit me instantly. Laughter and singing, loud music—loud enough I wouldn’t have to think, that I could ignore the emotions trying to drag me under.

The barman gave me a once-over and smiled.

“Martini, please, extra olives.” My gran’s tipple of choice.

I glanced at the stage. Not a band. Karaoke.

My drink was put in front of me a few minutes later. I thanked the guy, ate the olives, downed the drink, and marched over to pick my song.

Tonight wasn’t for wallowing, or crying. Tonight, I was celebrating my gran, her amazing life full of color and laughter. She’d been a risk taker. She’d grabbed hold of whatever happiness came her way and ran with it. And when it stopped making her happy, she kept on running until she found more. More goodness, more joy, however it came.

I lived my life like her, or at least tried to, hard not to when she’d been the one stuck raising me and my older brother, Ross. My mom had preferred partying to raising kids and had chosen one useless asshole after another over us. I don’t think there was a single promise she kept. She died when I was fifteen, and now Ross was the one who broke promises.

He hadn’t even called to say he wouldn’t make the funeral. My brother just…didn’t show up.

If it hadn’t been for Gran? I didn’t like to think what my life would have been like.

Gran had been my world. My everything. And I’d completely and utterly adored her.

She’d been a singer and dancer when she was young, performing at clubs in front of huge crowds. This dress was one she’d worn on stage. Tonight, I would sing, no matter how badly, for her.

I smiled at the guy in charge of the karaoke machine and grabbed the songbook, flicking through. An image of me and Gran in her car, singing while we ran to the next pocket of happiness, filled my head. Her wide smile as she cranked up the stereo.

When I was sad, Gran would tell me to sing away my feelings.

Sing, Trix, sing until there’s nothing but you and the music.

My eyes stung, and I blinked rapidly, forcing back the pain.

“You know what you want to sing?” the guy asked.

I forced a bright smile. “Yep.” I pointed to my song and slid the book back to him.

“There’s just three ahead of you. Name?”

“Call me whatever you want.”

He raised a brow.

I walked away, because I didn’t want to be me. And yeah, maybe it didn’t make sense, but today my gran’s voice was so clear in my mind, like she was still there close to me, saying my name, and I didn’t want to hear anyone else say it. But I knew from experience, there was no making sense of grief, and I wasn’t going to try now.

The barman slid another martini in front of me when I returned to my seat. I smiled. “Are you a mind reader?”

He shook his head and tilted it. “From the guy at the end of the bar.”

I glanced in the direction of the head tilt.

There were two men standing there, but going by the distance between them, they were obviously not together.

On the left was an elderly gentleman with a kind, weathered face.

And on the right—

Holy shit.

Was a tall, muscular, tattooed…god.

Neither of them were looking at me or acknowledging me in any way. I turned back to the barman, but he’d already vanished, serving someone at the opposite end of the bar. I bit my lip and glanced back at the god. He was all chiseled features, five o’clock shadow, and a mouth that looked like it was made to perform sinful acts all over a woman’s body.

You’re not that lucky.

My gaze slid to the elderly gent, and he glanced up, caught my eye, and smiled. Yep, there you go. Of course, it was him. Maybe he felt sorry for me here all on my own? He probably thought I’d been stood up or something.

I definitely wasn’t getting any creepy vibes from him, and my creep radar was first class. The way I looked—all the tattoos, the clothes I wore—made me stand out in a crowd, and sometimes I drew attention, not all of it good.

It’d be rude not to say thanks, and honestly, I could use the company. Sliding my drink off the bar, I headed toward him. My gaze darted back to the god without my say-so, because holy shit the guy was hot—

His electric-blue gaze lifted and slid to me, and he had the wattage cranked waaay