Chapter Seventeen

The raucous music reaching the parking lot didn’t sound all that pleasant, but she was willing to go out on a limb. Coleson held her hand as they walked to the entrance of the bar. He had his baseball cap pulled low, obscuring some of his features. Just as they reached the heavy door, it opened and two men came stumbling out. Coleson immediately pulled her behind him, as if protecting her, and her heart gave a little jump.

“Hey, hey,” Drunk Man One slurred. “It’s the football dude.”

The other man narrowed his eyes, even though he was weaving a little. “Football dude. Aw, man! You were break. I mean, great. Great. So great.”

Coleson smiled, gave a casual wave, and then pulled her past the threshold and into the country bar. It had been the second time someone mentioned him and football together.

Once inside, the music was better than the disjoined noise she’d heard in the parking lot. In the darkened interior, people sat at tables near the door, with LED candles flickering like a real flame. The bar ran the entire right length of the building, with two bartenders serving drinks. On the opposite side, a large stage supported a DJ, with people line dancing on the dance floor. The place held a frenetic energy that immediately captivated her. She’d been to high-scale nightclubs and parties aplenty, but this was something different. Something more than all the cowboy hats, boots, and flannel on display.

“This is … this is … awesome,” she finally managed to say.

He took her hand and led her toward a table. “Stay here, I’ll get us a drink.”

She nodded that she heard and understood him, but she was entranced by the people dancing in lines. It looked like a lot of fun. A moment later, Coleson slid onto the chair across her and placed a wine cooler in front of her.

“Figured you’d prefer that instead of beer,” he said.

Emmie picked up the bottle and took a tentative sip. She was pleasantly surprised. “Oh, I like this.”

He winked at her.

“Have you ever done that?” she asked pointing to the dancers.

“Once or twice that I remember,” he admitted. “Once or twice that I don’t.”

She laughed, and for the next couple of songs, she tapped her feet and sipped her drink. There wasn’t one person wearing Louboutins, or wearing a dress that cost more than the gross national income of some third world countries, and she was having fun just watching everyone. She wore jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers, and had never felt more comfortable in her life.

When the current song ended, the DJ took to the mic.

“We’ve reached the part of the evening where it’s time to belt out your favorite tunes!”

The crowd whooped and hollered.

“I’m gonna need those of you ready to continue this party to write out your choice and pin it on the note board!”

Something nudged her elbow and when Emmie looked down, Coleson had pushed a white binder closer.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s time to pick a song.”

Emmie blinked. “To sing?”

“Yep. It’s karaoke time.”

“Are you going to sing?”

“I will if you will, baby.”

She smiled. “Deal.”

He scooted closer and they began to peruse together. It wasn’t long before he found one and grabbed the order sheet at the back of the binder to write down his selection.

“I don’t know any of these songs,” she complained, flipped through the pages. “Oh, wait! I know this one.”

“Go ahead and write that down, then I’ll take it up to the front.”

“Okay.” She dutifully wrote down her name and the song, then held it out to him. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I know,” he said, rising and placing a quick kiss on her lips. “You’re going to be great.”

He headed up to the stage and placed both their sheets on the board. As he headed back to her, several people stopped him to talk and he smiled and answered before waving at them to continue his way to their table.

“We’re about tenth in line,” he told her.

Emmie loved watching ordinary people get up on stage and belt out tunes even though almost all were tone deaf. That didn’t matter. Every person who took hold of the microphone was fearless. They were having fun , and that was what she wanted. Every day for the rest of her life. To not be miserable, especially with a spouse her parents had chosen. They wanted her to be them, but there was no fucking way.

Jacoby’s death had woken her up.

There was nothing left for her in New York.

A thousand-pound weight was lifted from her shoulders. Peace descended into her heart. All from watching people enjoy belting off-key songs in a Country-Western karaoke bar. She glanced at Coleson. Maybe he had a hand in it as well.

Her name was called out, snapping out of whatever self-inflection she’d been lost in. Coleson smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. Each step up to the stage matched the staccato rhythm of her heart. When she reached the microphone, the DJ gave a thumbs-up and the words appeared on the monitor in front of her. The music started, and a moment later, she sang the words to “Dream a Little Dream of Me.” She had a friend at the all-girls boarding school she’d attended, who loved Mama Cass. She’d play her music over and over. Some of the other girls in the dorm hated the repetitive songs, but Emmie enjoyed listening to something that had been forbidden by her parents.

Emmie wouldn’t call this a country song, but it definitely was a song that brought back happy memories. Once she was done, the whole place started clapping. She flushed and bowed her head as she made her way off the stage, but Coleson was there and he grabbed her hand, pulling her back. He took the microphone and the music started. Emmie couldn’t be embarrassed when she was trapped in his beautiful gaze. He started serenading her to a song by Phil Collins, called “Groovy Kind of Love,” and the melody was soft and beautiful. He stared into her eyes as he sang to her, and her heart swooned. In that moment, it was suddenly clear she didn’t want them to end when summer was over. This was a man worth being honest with. A man she could share her secrets with.

When the song ended, he scooped her up in his arms and marched across the stage while people whooped and hollered while clapping. The next singer came up and gave them a thumbs-up. Once off the stage, he kissed her like a man dying of thirst who just found an oasis.

That night, their unspoken feelings heighted every kiss. Every caress. He settled between the apex of her thighs. Using two fingers, his talented tongue rasped against her sensitive clit, and her body arched like it had touched a live wire. She buried her hand in his hair, making sure he stayed where he was until she vaulted over the edge.

Then they were moving together in a rhythm older than time. Straining. Yearning to fly. And when they reached that plateau of Heaven, it was if they were one body. One beating heart. Emmie knew it was time to come clean, sooner rather than later, and hoped like hell Coleson wanted to stick around.