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This is her parents’ doing. Years of dismissive comments and wearing down her confidence have left her constantly second-guessing her abilities. I don’t mention them. They’re not worth the breath. They couldn’t make the trip out here to see their only daughter graduate law school. Talia even offered to cover part of their airfare with money she barely had to spare, and they still turned her down.

I hold my tongue way too often with her parents, but I know if I spoke my mind, it would make things harder for Talia. So I keep my mouth shut. Thankfully, we hardly see them since moving to Iris Meadows, but I know Talia still seeks their approval.

“How did I get so lucky?” She pushes up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to the underside of my jaw. “Let’s get out of here. You have a show to prepare for.”

“Are you sure this is how you want to celebrate your graduation? I want to take you out dancing or to a fancy restaurant.”

She raises her chin, priming for an argument. “I want to sit with my friends, drink whiskey sours and eat wings while my husband serenades a room full of people.”

Curling my arm around her shoulders, I guide us through the crowd and toward my truck. “Tally Girl, you know my lyrics are for you and you only.”

Peering up at me, she smirks. “Tell that to the table of middle-aged women the other week. I heard one of them recently left their husband and was in the market for a toy boy.”

I pinch her sides and quickly silence her squeal with a firm kiss. “You might be a genius, but you sure are trouble.”

She nibbles on her pillowy bottom lip. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Shit. I know that tone.

My steps quicken to a jog, eliciting a delicious laugh from her. “Get your ass in the truck, Mrs. Brooks, and lose the panties.” I pause. “Maybe keep the cap on.”

“You know, if you’re going to be late, at least have the courtesy to hide the fact you were fucking in the parking lot.” Parker doesn’t even look up from her phone.

“Excuse me, we were not fucking,” Talia lies. Terribly.

We absolutely were.

Parked far enough away from the main entrance, I fucked my girl into oblivion, rewarding and praising her with every snap of my hips. She came twice—once on my tongue and once on my cock—before she eventually accepted how amazing she is.

“Pfft.” Parker finally glances at us, pointing at me. “Your husband has a hickey on his neck. Don’t get me started on the recently fucked hairstyle he’s rocking.” She turns to Talia. “And you, missy. You reek of sex, and your boob is hanging out of your dress.”

Talia gasps and slaps her hands to her well-covered chest. “Hey!”

Parker smirks. “Gotcha.”

Talia pouts. I puff my chest out proudly. I’m not ashamed for showing my wife a good time.

I notice the protective film on Parker’s forearm. “New ink?”

Grinning, she flaunts the ivy twisting from her wrist to her elbow. “Got it this morning. I need to go back for one more session, but I’m hoping to have a full sleeve by next year.”

“Ooh. It’s so pretty,” Talia coos.

“When are you going to ink up, Tatey?” Parker walks her fingers up the untouched skin of my forearm. “Your wife would love it if you had a full sleeve or a slutty little thigh tat.”

I shiver. “Never. I told you this.”

Talia wraps her arms around my middle, resting her head between my pecs as she curls her lips. “Tate almost hit the deck the last time he had blood tests done. I think a few hours in a tattoo chair will kill him.”

“But they love virgin skin.” Parker flares her eyes. “What about a teeny-tiny butterfly above your butt?”

“I’m leaving. All you do is bully me.” I grab Talia’s hand and march away.

“Wimp!” Parker shouts after us. “When you’re done on stage, come find me. I want your opinion on the new labels we’ve had made.”

“You got it, boss.” I salute her over my shoulder before we find our reserved table at the foot of the stage. Harriet is halfway through her set and she greets us with a wink, not letting our late arrival interrupt her riff. I’ve had a permanent gig at the Smokey Barrel for a while now, performing for guests on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays, making more money than I did running odd jobs for Jimmy.

We left Texas for a better life, and I promised Talia I’d look after her. I’m not under the assumption that men should provide for the women, but we grew up in low-income households, and there was a time or two when my mom struggled to keep the electricity on. I refuse to let that be our future. Talia’s made for greatness, and with a job lined up at a well-known firm outside of Nashville, we’re doing a lot better than when we first moved here.