The door slammed behind her as she stomped into the house, and he looked up from the set list he was reviewing in surprise. She was still waitressing at that crumby diner. Some days were worse than others.
"I had the WORST fucking day." Stevie snarled as she stomped into the kitchen, angrily throwing open the door of the refrigerator and snatching a bottle of beer, slamming the door shut. She tried to act so tough when she was pissed. He knew better.
"What'd you do?" Lindsey asked, coming up behind her as she dug through the silverware drawer for a bottle opener. "Pour some customer the wrong drink?" He laughed, but it caught in his throat as she spun around, her brown eyes reflecting his imminent death. Her glare was less threatening as she had to look up at him, with all the fierceness she could muster with her 5'1".He was "5'11" and built somewhat solidly. Years of moving music equipment had developed broad muscular shoulders, making him almost twice her width, as well close to a foot taller than her.
"Whoa, babe." He touched her shoulder, gently, his voice soft and unobtrusive. "Whoever pissed you off, it wasn't me. Okay? What happened?"
Immediately, all the rage drained out of her face, and she slumped back against the counter. "It was just a stupid day. I couldn't do anything right. I couldn't find anything. The cook was late and I had to make someone a burger, and I burnt it. I broke a full bottle of wine and I bet you anything I'm going to get in trouble for it, if I don't get written up, I'll at least have to pay for the loss... I didn't even pour a glass of it. And my SHOES!" Her lower lip started trembling.
"Aww, baby, don't cry."
"And, and, when I was clearing off a table, some guy grabbed my ass, and then I didn't know which guy it was, and so I kicked out the whole party, and they got all pissed at me, and they had a tab, and I had to pay it..." She buried her face in her hands, and he pulled her close.
"Shh, it was just a bad day," she took a deep breath, her head pressed against his chest. He was so much bigger than her, and the warm, manly scent of him calmed her. He kissed the top of her head through her hair. "Tomorrow will be better."
"I hope so." She mumbled against his chest, and he laughed. He grabbed her hips and lifted her easily, sitting her on the counter. He raised an eyebrow at her, as tears started rolling down her cheeks and she laughed softly, wiping her eyes. "I... I just get so sick of it, sometimes."
"Sometimes shit days just come with the job, babe. I know you hate this job, but soon we'll be playing every venue out there, you won't have to do this forever."
"I know, I know.... I just wish it was different now."
He kissed her lips, tasting the salt of her tears. "It's alright, baby. Everyone has shit days. That's why you have me to come home to, to make you feel better."
"Oh?" She laid her head on his broad shoulder, her feet dangling off the counter. "How do you plan to do that?" She took a long chug off the large bottle in her hand, obviously thinking he might need a little assistance from the booze in order to make her feel better.
He wrapped his strong arm around her, so she was cradled against his shoulder. "You think I don't know how to make my girl feel good?" he tweaked her nipple, and she looked up at him, his gentle eyes were gazing into hers, and there was a smile playing about his lips.
She stroked his cheek, rubbing her hand across the rough beard that ornamented his chin. "I know how you make your baby girl feel good." She murmured, smiling at him.
"You want me to make it better, huh, baby?" he asked softly. "You want daddy to make you feel better?" He ran his hand down her side, sliding his fingers up under her shirt.
