“Yeah. She was only nine, and she was a wreck. She had horrible nightmares.” He didn’t know why he was still talking, but he couldn’t stop the painful memory from spilling out. “I’d go in and calm her down, but she was anxious all the time, worried she’d get cancer because she was named after our mother, Carolyn, and fearful that something would happen to our father or to me, which made her clingy. It drove our father nuts. I took her with me wherever I went on the weekends and kept her busy in the evenings, so she wouldn’t bother him.” He inhaled deeply, looking away to keep from saying more.

“That’s really sweet. Does she live nearby?”

He nodded, trying to figure out how to redirect the conversation.

“Why aren’t you with her tonight?”

“I prefer to be alone.”

“Oh.” She was quiet for a minute, the light in her eyes dimming. But before he could get a word out, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, as if she were hitching her armor into place, and said, “Don’t let me cramp your style,” and pushed to her feet.

He grabbed her wrist. “Sit down, Blue Eyes. You’re not cramping anything.” He tugged her down beside him. She was a tough bird, clearly gun-shy about getting hurt and strong enough to take control and walk away. He wished his sister had been that strong and chalked it up as just one more thing he liked about Madigan.

“You sure?”

He nodded. “I like talking to you.”

“I think you mean listening.”

“What can I say? I like the sound of your voice.” He handed her his guitar. “Why don’t you give me something else to listen to.”

“You thought I messed up my last performance. You sure you want a private show?”

He wanted a private show, all right, no guitar necessary, and based on the flicker of heat in her eyes, she meant it exactly the way he’d taken it. “Hell yeah. Show me what you’ve got.”

She settled the guitar on her lap, eyeing him seductively. Then her brows knitted in concentration, as if she were paging through songs in her head. He wondered which ones she was passing over and why and immediately cursed himself for caring.

A mischievous glimmer rose in her eyes, and she started playing “The Sounds of Silence.” She barely made it through three lines before they both cracked up.

“What?” She leaned against his side. “You don’t like that one?”

“I do now” came out before he could stop it.

Her smile brightened everything around them. “I’ve got one you’ll like even better.”

He had a feeling he’d like anything she sang.