“I’m not. Watching you up there—” I wagged my head, an irrepressible smile stretching my lips. “You were amazing, Peyton.”
“I haven’t done anything like that in decades. It was so much fun.” She poked me in the chest. “You should do it, Nash. You should sing a song.”
“We already went over this. No way.”
“Oh, but . . .” She stopped, going still and then lifting her face to mine. I recognized the scheming expression and had a sinking feeling in my gut.
“What if I dare you to do it?”
I burst out laughing, tossing my head back. “That won’t work. I never was susceptible to the whole truth or dare shit.”
“Well, that’s no fun.” Peyton’s lower lip jutted out, and she crossed her arms over her chest.
“Listen, sweetheart, I’d have to have a very strong incentive to get my sorry ass up there and sing.”
She tilted head. “You called me sweetheart.”
Had I? Damn.“Sorry. I slipped.”
“Don’t be sorry. I liked it.” Peyton licked her lips, and my body jolted with awareness. “A strong incentive, huh? That’s what you need to make you sing?”
I groaned. “I said the wrong thing.”
“What if . . .” Peyton reached up and wrapped one hand around my neck. “What if I promise you a kiss if you sing karaoke tonight?”
A kiss from Peyton. As motivations go, there really wasn’t a better one in my estimation. But still, I needed some clarification.
“What kind of kiss?”
“A kiss that will make your toes curl.” She stood on her toes and whispered into my ear. “Just the two of us. Alone. The kind of kiss I always wanted to give you, back when we were in school. A very hot kiss.”
Holy hell.
“Don’t move,” I ordered. “I’ll be right back.”
Peyton’s eyes opened wide, but she only nodded.
I was tempted to follow her example and do a couple of shots to reinforce my courage before talking to the DJ, but I knew that I wanted to be stone cold sober when she kissed me. So I bypassed the bar and went straight to the table.
“I want to sing.” I had to yell to be heard over an OG football player who was screeching out a bad version of a Guns and Roses song.
“Okay. Fill out a form, and I’ll call your name when it’s your turn.” The DJ pointed to the pile of slips. “You might have a little bit of a wait.”
“Yeah, that won’t work.” I slid my wallet out of my back pocket and peeled off a fifty-dollar bill. “Does this move me up in the line at all?”
“It helps.” He regarded me with interest. “Why the rush, buddy?”
I decided that the truth was my best friend here. “The girl I crushed on all during high school, the one who was always meant to be mine, just promised me a very hot kiss if I sing karaoke tonight. I’ve waited a long time for this kiss. I don’t want to delay it another minute.”
“Well, fuck.” The dude slapped his hand down on the table and chortled. “That’s the best damn story I’ve heard all night.” He offered me his hand. “That just got you to the on-deck slot, buddy. Good luck with that kiss.”
“Thanks.” Anticipation and need surged through my veins, my pulse thudding so loudly that I almost didn’t hear the DJ’s question.
“What are you singing?”
“Oh—” I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Um, can I see a list?”
“Sure.” He handed me a laminated card with rows of songs printed. “I can help you narrow it down. Who’s your favorite artist?”
