Page 50 of Have To Be Mine

“Good. Because I’m not ready for this to end.”

He pulled me to my feet, and we stood there, fingers intertwined, neither of us quite ready to let go.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“I have no idea. Let’s just walk.”

I loved the idea. We wandered past shops closing for the night and restaurants with outdoor seating where couples lingered over wine. Musicians playing for tips on street corners made me think of New York.

We turned a corner and heard music drifting from somewhere ahead—not recorded music, but live voices accompanied by cheers and laughter. We followed the sound until we found ourselves standing outside a small cafe with its windows thrown open to the night air. Inside, a woman was belting out what sounded like an ABBA song while a crowd of people clapped along.

“Karaoke,” Dash said, grinning. “Come on. It’s a new family tradition.”

I had no clue what that meant, but he pulled me toward the entrance before I could say anything. The cafe was packed, warm with body heat and the smell of sweet liquor and strong perfumes and colognes. A makeshift stage had been set up in one corner with a microphone and a screen displaying lyrics. The woman finished her song to enthusiastic applause and bounded off the stage, laughing.

I felt my body go rigid. An open mic. My mother’s favorite thing in the world.

“You want to sing?” Dash asked, leaning close so I could hear him over the noise.

I shook my head so hard my ponytail whipped back and forth. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on. When’s the last time you did something just for fun?”

“Never. And I’m keeping that streak alive.”

He laughed and moved closer, his mouth near my ear. “What if I make a complete fool of myself first? Would that help?”

“How would that help?”

“I’ve seen it work before. But look, I’ll sing anything you want. Any song. I’ll butcher it spectacularly in front of all these people, and then you’ll feel better about your own potential humiliation.”

I looked up at him, searching his face for signs he was joking. He wasn’t. “You’d really do that?”

“I’m telling you, it’s kind of a Blackwell thing. My brother Briggs sang karaoke to his now wife, wooing her with his singing abilities. It won her over. It’s all over the internet. I can find it if you want.”

The image of serious, suit-wearing Briggs Blackwell singing karaoke made me smile despite myself. I had only met the guy once. He was intimidating as hell, even to someone like me who was rarely intimidated by anyone. “That sounds hilarious, but I’m going to pass.”

I loved singing. I was itching to grab the microphone and give my vocal chords a good workout. I just didn’t want to do it in front of Dash. That was a side of myself I kept far away from my professional life.

“Fair enough. But I’m still doing this.” He started toward the stage, then turned back. “Pick a song. Anything.”

My mind went blank for a second, then landed on something ridiculous. “Night Moves. Bob Seger.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“You said anything. Do you know it?”

He gave me a dry look. “I don’t live under a rock. My dad loved that kind of music.”

I watched him approach the DJ booth. He said something that made the DJ laugh. He picked up the microphone and waggled his eyebrows at me. The opening notes of Night Moves began playing through the speakers.

I would eat my shoe if he actually sang the song. Dash was a lot of things, but I couldn’t imagine him being some karaoke superstar.

“We have an American tourist who wants to take us back to the seventies!” the DJ announced in accented English. “Give it up for… what’s your name, friend?”

“Dash!” he called out.

The crowd cheered. Of course they did. He had that effect on people. My eyes moved around the cafe. Oh yes, he had the full attention of every woman in the room. I was just a little jealous. But I reminded myself I was the one that could still taste him on my tongue.