AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I hold the mic to my lips and start to sing.
Chapter15
Parker
Delilah looks up from her work, stocking the fridge with PBR tall boys. “Is that your girl singing?” she asks, as Gemma’s voice fills the bar.
I laugh. “Yeah.”
“Thought Frankie was on the mic. He never lets it go, once he’s on.”
“That’s ’cause he’s never met Gemma before.”
“Wow. She must be something else…”
“She is.”
Delilah stands and joins me at the counter. We both watch the show going on over on the stage for a minute.
Gemma’s holding the mic up at an angle, singing her heart out like she’s a rockstar. Frankie’s looking as though he’s suddenly forgotten that good old Sarah-Jean’s his wife of umpteen years.
He’s clearly enamored. Gemma struts across the stage as she sings, with so much confidence, I have to chuckle again. Her hair’s down over her shoulders, and she’s wearing his big cowboy hat tilted sideways… and it actually looks good on her.
The crowd quieted down to listen. Plenty of heads are turned her way.
I think every single guy in this bar just realized there’s a gorgeous firecracker here among us.
But those dudes are out of luck, because tonight, Gemma’s all mine.
She’s not tone deaf. A little off key, but her enthusiasm makes up for that. She dances over to Frankie and hands him the mic so he can sing his part, and a smattering of applause goes up for her.
Gemma’s full of surprises.
One day, she’s wound up so tight, I have to work to get her to smile.
The next, she’s here, letting loose and having fun.
Good. I really want her to have fun while she’s here in Vermont.
And I want more than that, too.
I want this thing that’s sparked up between us to lead to something incredible. Something so surprising, it sweeps us both off our feet.
When she and Frankie belt out the last refrain, the mic between them and Frankie’s arm around her shoulders, an honest-to-goodness applause rises up toward the rafters.
Sara-Jeanne pops up out of her seat to snap a photo of the two, which Gemma gamely poses for.
When Gemma makes her way back to the bar, she’s flushed. “I can’t believe I did that! That was—I don’t know... Liberating.”
“You made a couple fans, I think.” I untie my apron and drop it on top of the cooler.
“No way. But they endured it and I’m grateful for that. There’s something about singing… It's the craziest thing. It takesactualvulnerability. Like you’re baring your soul or something. I mean, I’ve given plenty of scripted talks to audiences in the hundreds. That’s not the same rush, at all. That was—whew.”
“Catch your breath, cowgirl,” I tell her.
She scrunches her brow. “What, you, with the cowgirl talk, too? Why am I suddenly putting out western vibes? Like I told Frankie, I’m east coast to the core.”
I laugh as I walk over to the bar flap, lift it up, and step through. When I reach the barstool next to her, I tap the guy sitting there on the shoulder. “You mind?”
