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I pull in a ragged breath. Melody in boots would be enough to stop my heart if she was just standing at the bar, but she isn’t. She’s up on stage. Singing. And she has one hell of a voice, high and sweet, but with a rough edge on the lower notes that lifts the hairs on the back of my neck and makes my skin prickle.
I freeze just inside the door, mesmerized by the way her hips swivel as she belts out the chorus of a country song about cheaters that I’m positive has never sounded as sexy as it does coming from her lips. Her red lips, the same color as that red dress.
Jesus…
“Dibs!” John says, shouting to be heard over the music.
I frown. “Dibs on what?” I ask, still unable to tear my eyes away from Melody.
I’ve never seen her like this, so wild and free and lost to something in the best way. She’s having so much fun it almost seems wrong to stare at her, like I’m spying on a private moment, but that doesn’t stop me—or any of the other men in the room—from keeping our attention glued to the stage.
“Dibs on the blonde singer,” John says. “I’m in love.”
My frown morphs into a full-blown scowl. “No. No way.” I turn to pin John with a don’t-even-think-about-it look. “Melody is off-limits.”
His eyebrows lift. “You know her?”
“Yeah, I know her. She’s my boss’s little sister. She’s a kid, a sweet kid.”
John grins. “Doesn’t look like a kid to me.”
“She’s not one of your Friday night fucks, man,” I snap. “Do you get me? Or should we go talk about this outside?”
John laughs, and a knowing look flashes in his eyes. “You should have just said something, man. Clearly, you’ve got it bad for the girl. I get it. I totally get it. No worries.”
“That’s not it. At all.” I cross my arms at my chest and try not to sound defensive. “I told you, she’s my boss’s little sister. I just feel obligated to look out for her.”
John nods a little too long. “Right. I feel you. Like I said, no worries, brother. I’ll turn my attentions elsewhere.”
“You do that,” I mutter, not liking the way John is looking at me—like I’m the punch line in some dumb joke—but at least we understand each other.
Melody is off-limits.
For both of us.
Too bad I can’t force a similar promise from every man in the bar.
By the time Melody comes offstage to applause louder than I’ve heard in three weeks of Fridays at The Horse, half the men in the place are lined up offering to buy her a drink.
I have to fight my way through a crowd three deep to get to her.
For my sanity’s sake, I should leave right now—do not say a word to Melody or get any closer to her dangerous boots—but she clearly needs a bodyguard. Half these men are old enough to be her father and should absolutely know better than to mess with her.
But they don’t, so I’ll just have to glare at them until they get the message.
I’m already glaring when I reach Melody’s side. And then she turns, beaming up at me with a smile so bright it’s like a slap in the face.
But a good slap, a nice slap, the kind that wakes you up in the middle of a nightmare, chasing all the bad things away.
“Nick, hey!” She throws her arms around my neck, giving me a giddy hug that makes my blood feel fizzier than it did a second ago.
My arms go around her on instinct, and they stay around her by design. I glower at the rest of the horny bar idiots over her shoulder until finally, one by one, they back away with defeated expressions, and I’m left with nothing to do but enjoy how warm and soft she feels in my arms.
God, who knew hugging could feel this good?
Too good.
I clear my throat and step back.
“How long have you been here?” Melody asks, her cheeks flushed.
“Long enough.” I raise my voice to be heard over the next singer on stage, a thin woman in a weirdly puffy white dress who probably isn’t happy to be following a spot-on performance like Melody’s. “You were so good. I didn’t know you were a singer.”
“I didn’t either,” she says with a laugh. “I mean, I’ve sung at church since I was little, but I’ve never done anything like that. I was so nervous, but it was so much fun!”
“You looked like you were having fun. The men in here couldn’t take their eyes off you.”
“Is that right?” Mischief flashes in her expression. “All the men?”
“All,” I confirm with a smile, knowing I shouldn’t be flirting with her, but unable to stop myself.
“Even the ones who think I’m a child in need of brotherly protection?” She steps closer, tilting her head back to look up at me.
