that I had something worth sharing.” He laughed softly. “I sure hope she was right. Here goes.”
Peter took a deep breath and shut down. He shut out the lights and noise and nerves. Closing his eyes he went to that place inside him that had only ever been touched by one person. By Leslie. She believed in him.
It gave him strength.
For a moment he sat there and waited until the club went quiet. Then his fingers started to move on the strings, the sound of his guitar bringing him to his center. God, he hoped she understood what he was trying to do, what he was trying to say.
“For my princess,” he said. Then he plunged deep and forgot about the strangers staring at him. Peter lost himself in the music, in his message to Leslie.
And he sang.
LESLIE DIDN’T RECOGNIZE the song. After a few bars she realized the reason she couldn’t place it was because it was new. Peter had written a song for her. The truth choked her up.
The stripped-down acoustics made the lyrics sound so beautiful. They touched her and now that they were being sung by the man she was hopelessly in love with and she knew that it had been written for her, well, it was amazing.
The nightclub was silent as Peter strummed his guitar and sang about her being too beautiful to turn away from even though he was unworthy. He looked incredible up there, so rugged and tough and soulful. Just like she knew he would.
And he was there for her, singing for her. He’d called her his princess. Her lips trembled and she swallowed hard, her heart pounding frantically in her chest.
Pushing through the crowd blindly, Leslie didn’t stop until she was standing at the front of the crush, just steps away from the stage. She didn’t care who saw, she just stood there as the tears formed and fell, one by one, down her cheeks. Because she knew, knew what Peter being there meant, and it was everything.
“I don’t deserve it, but give me a chance,” he sang in his amazing voice.
And it felt like he was saying it directly to her. That they weren’t just lyrics to a song. They were words from his heart. And knowing him, knowing what music was to him, and how he kept everything locked up tight, Leslie knew he was saying what was inside him in the best way he knew how.
Peter continued playing, his nimble fingers working the guitars strings expertly. His voice built along with the song, and before long he was pouring his heart out, singing, “I’m not perfect, just imperfectly yours. I’ll love you like you’ve never known before.”
His voice broke and he looked directly at her. He let his guard down and let everything he felt show in his eyes as he finished the song. “Imperfectly yours for the rest of my life.”
Oh God.
Leslie started sobbing. And she couldn’t stop. Because she was so in love with him it was ridiculous. It made her a blubbering fool.
All for Peter.
He stopped strumming his guitar and the club slowly went quiet as the crowd held a collective breath. For a long moment he just sat there and looked at her, his pale blue eyes shining bright. Then he raised that brow of his and gave her a small half smile. “I love you,” he said, completely unaware or uncaring that the microphone had picked it up and broadcast it throughout the entire club.
Peter sat his Gibson down and jumped off the stage. As soon as his feet hit the ground he swooped her up and covered her mouth in a searing, heartfelt kiss. All she could do was cling to him as everything inside her rejoiced, and the crowd around them erupted, went wild.
He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “I love you,” he said again. Now that he’d said them once they were the only words he wanted to speak. “And I’m sorry. So, so sorry for being such a coward, Leslie.”
She placed a hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes. They were filled with love and fear and uncertainty. “Why are you a coward?”
“For not having the balls to tell you that when I fell for you four years ago. I took one look at you—the first one—and it was over for me. A part of me knew it then, but I was just so scared.” He smiled slightly. “Shit. I’m still scared.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head. “I need to finish this. Talking about what’s in here”—he pointed to his chest—“is fucking hard for me.”
With trembling fingers, she caressed his chest and smiled gently. “Go on.”
“That night we were together in Miami I tanked because I felt it. I felt what you meant to me deep down in my gut and I freaked. And the stupid bet was just a way to have you without being honest with myself or you about the reasons why.”
He scanned the crowd of avid onlookers. “I hate performing in public. I really do. But I’ll play here every single night for the rest of my life if it’s what you want. If it will help you achieve your dream. Because all I care about, all I want is you. I’m not good enough and I don’t deserve you, but I love you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “My baseball career is over. I’m having eye surgery next week, but my vision will never be completely normal. I don’t know where my life is going. And I don’t care, as long as it’s with you.”
Her heart flung wide open and filled up with love, so very much love, for the man standing before her. She loved him so much it was pathetic. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?”
Both of them. Complete messes.
Peter leaned in and whispered into her ear. “That’s why we’re good together, princess.”
She could see it, all the ways that they were good for each other. They were both strong-willed, independent people who were afraid to trust. But they were also good-hearted people, who went to bat for the ones they loved. “Would you really play at the club every single night?” she asked, her heart soaring.
He nodded. “I would. I mean, I will if that’s what you want. If you still want me.” His eyes stared into hers, searching. “If you still love me.”
For so long she’d kept herself at arm’s reach, never getting too close to anyone. And for what? It had earned her nothing.
It really was time to turn over a new leaf. For both of them. She didn’t know where it was going to lead, but she wanted to be right there with him every step of the way. “I love you, Peter.”
“Are you sure?”
Suddenly she felt like laughing. The worried look on his face was priceless. “Yes, I’m sure. Even though you’re nothing but trouble, I love you. I always will.”
Peter wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Girl, ‘trouble’ is your middle name.”
Leslie slid her arms around the back of his neck, enjoying the way his eyes went warm and sweet. It was a new look for him. She very definitely approved. “That’s why we’re perfect for each other.”
Peter grinned. “That’s the truth, princess.” Then he kissed her, softly, sweetly.
And they turned over that new leaf.
“HURRY UP, PETER. I don’t want to be late.” Leslie pushed through the hospital doors that led to the maternity wing and took a sharp left.
“What’s there to be late about?” he drawled right behind her. “Half the damn team is already there waiting.”
As soon as they entered the waiting room area she saw he was right. “Hey, y’all. Sorry we’re late.” She cast a quick glance over at Peter and smoothed her hair. “
Drake snorted and cuffed Peter on the shoulder. “Bad traffic always gives me bedhead too.”
Just then a pretty, young nurse came through carrying a clipboard. She wasn’t looking where she was going, she was so busy reading the chart, and she ran smack into Paulson. “
