AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When fingers skim along my elbow, I jump, startled. Luckily my beer glass is empty or else I’d be wearing the contents. Barrett doesn’t stop walking. He passes by with a wink, his friend Burke trailing behind him.
“I’ll return him to you shortly, Kitty Cat Everhart,” Burke tells me with a crooked smile that is strangely charming. I don’t find guys in slashed jeans attractive any more than I do red-haired, bad boy former NFL players, yet here I am admiring both of them as they cut through the crowd.
I lose sight of them when they reach the front, suddenly frustrated that I’m standing here alone while my date is doing...I don’t know what. I begin mentally writing that paragraph in my head.
Dating tip, gentlemen: Don’t abandon your date for an old college buddy to play wingman. One, this is poor form, and two, that kiss you were expecting at the end of the night? Not going to happen.
I turn for the beer truck when a familiar voice crackles over the speakers. I turn to find Barrett and Burke on stage.
“How’s everyone doing?” Barrett asks, his husky baritone sending a ripple of awareness down my spine. “This is my buddy, Jackson Burke.”
“Hi, ladies,” Burke says, his voice dipping suggestively. It earns him more than a few approving female screams. “You all know my friend Barrett Fox.”
The screams increase tenfold. Despite the mild disgust I feel at how easily he earns positive attention, I swivel in my flip-flops and crush in with a crowd that is not only growing in size but is also pushing toward the front.
“This is an oldie, but goodie,” Barrett tells the crowd as Burke tunes the guitar looped around his neck. “It’s a little cheesy, but a lot effective. Kinda like Goose and Maverick singing ‘You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’’ in Top Gun.”
More howls of appreciation come from the crowd.
“Oh my God, he’s hotter in person,” slurs a drunk girl standing next to me. I turn to see if she’s talking to me, but she isn’t.
Her equally drunk friend giggles and adds, “What about the bearded one? He’s cute.”
“Huh-uh,” the first girl argues dreamily. “The ginger is mine.”
Yikes. I lift my glass to my lips, but it’s empty. No way can I go to the beer truck now. I’ll lose my place in the mid-to-rear of the crowd. Burke clumsily plays a few chords, chuckles, and apologizes into the microphone as he tightens a string. Then he tries again, and applause breaks out. Slowly at first and then rippling outward.
It seems that everyone recognizes the opening notes of the familiar ballad: Extreme’s “More Than Words.”
“Is he going to sing?” I ask no one in particular as Barrett accepts a beer from one of the band members who sacrificed his microphone.
“If he does, I’ll die,” the first girl answers.
Well, get ready for her to drop dead, because Barrett sets his glass down, approaches the microphone, and sings the first line.
Burke bobs his head and strums the guitar while Barrett continues singing about how he doesn’t want to hear the words I love you, but instead wants to be shown.
Damn. This song really holds up. And damn, Barrett Fox can sing. Who saw that coming?
Burke croons backup as Barrett hits a high note like his vocal cords were designed to do just that.
The women next to me sway, their arms wrapped around each other. I’m frozen solid in shock, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t inhaled for a good while.
Barrett’s eyes sink shut while he sings, his hand gripping the microphone stand casually, as if he does this every day of the week. Loose, but in complete control. The same way he held on to me when he kissed me in that empty office.
“Help me out,” he invites and then sings the chorus again. Every last one of us sings along with him.
No one can take their eyes off him, including me. The buzz of excitement is palpable. It’s the same buzz that follows him wherever he goes.
He and Burke softly sing the final notes. Applause interspersed with cheers swell on the air. I’m grinning, slapping my wrist with one hand since I’m still holding my beer glass with the other. Women of every age rush the stage when they descend the steps.
I lose sight of them in the melee.
Still smiling and—I’ll admit it—pretty damn impressed, I walk to the beer truck for the refill I need more than I did a few minutes ago.
Barrett escapes his pop-up fan club and waves his apologies to them as his head turns toward the tree where I was leaning. I decide not to wave him over. Let him look for me.
Burke is caught in a tangle with the two girls who were standing next to me earlier. He yells for Barrett, and the one who wanted “the ginger” sends him a flirty smile. Barrett shakes his head and almost walks right past me.
