Page 94 of Wildflowers & Whiskey

I lock my eyes on the stage, where no one has sung for about ten minutes, just a playlist playing now. I start crossing the distance, and before the group realised I am gone, I was at the stage.

“You Look Like You Love Me,” I say. “Ella Langley and Riley Green.”

She raises an eyebrow. “It's a duet.”

“I know.” I take the mic. “I'll manage.”

I've sung this song more times than I care to admit in the shower. Every part of it. Both parts, because that's what you do when a song is this good, and there's no one else around. I know every word, every shift, every place where the two voices are supposed to meet and pull apart. It's my favourite.

The opening plays. I'm not looking at the screen because I don't need to. I'm looking out at the bar, at our table, and Naomi's got her hand over her mouth already, and Jae’s grinning, and Colt's got that look he gets when something surprises him.

Behind them all is Wade. Who has now turned around his stool, looking past the shoulders of Jae and Colt, straight at me.

That dark, unreadable expression from earlier isn't exactly gone, but there's something else in it now. Something that sits underneath all that quiet like an ember.

The first verse comes, and I find my voice easier than I expect, the bar noise fading as I focus on how fucking bizarre this is. I don’t have the best singing voice, not by a mile. But liquid courage has me telling me I can do this. My heels find the rhythm as I sing the words with ease.

I’m smiling by the chorus.

The whole group is there in front of me, Naomi on her feet now, Jae with his fingers in his mouth whistling, Colt laughing and shaking his head. All of them between me and Wade, which means no one notices when my eyes find him over their shoulders.

He's still on his stool.

Arms folded. Jaw tight. Fighting it, I can see him fighting it, and then the corner of his mouth pulls up despite everything he's doing to stop it. Just barely. Just enough.

And God help me, that does something to me.

I am now mid-chorus, still singing Ella’s part, the bit just before Riley Green joins in. Just as I am about to jokingly lower my voice for his part, putting my best Texas drawl on, everything stills as I see him moving toward the stage.

Not the man I had my eyes fixated on the whole time.

No.

Colt.

My heart does a double beat as Colt appears at the foot of the stage steps, grinning up at me as he reaches for the second microphone the karaoke woman is holding out. He then begins to sing Riley’s part, turning it into a full duet, about looking like we love each other.

Oh fuck.

I can’t stop, that will be embarrassing for him. So, I carry on, still hitting every note on instinct, but my brain has just caught up to what I did, and what song I picked, and why I picked it, and the full weight lands directly on my chest.

I picked a love song.

I sang it while looking at his father, who was sitting behind him. And now, Colt is on stage.

Damage control is not going to be fun after this.

Chapter Thirty Six

Colt

Stage lights shine on Maeve like she’s made for centre stage, even if her hand’s got a slight shake when she grips the mic. The whole bar is hollering and whistling, ready to see what this city girl can bring to a bar in the country like this.

She starts singing.

I know the song instantly. Hard not to, it’s been playing on the radio nearly every damn hour for months now. Just don’t get why she has chosen a duet when she has no one else with her.

Not that it’s stopping her. She’s singing it like she’s done it a thousand times before, and she’s damn good too. Even with the fake country accent she’s trying to put on.