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Annie answers for me. “Ladies’ night. I only invited Lorelai.” She looks at me. “I didn’t even think. Is that okay? Do you want to call him up?”
“Totally okay. I needed a ladies’ night in a bad way.”
“Craig Boseman?” Trina asks idly.
“Yeah—” I start to answer, but Fitz chimes in.
“Talk about a power couple, right?”
“Oh, well.” I can feel my cheeks warm. Damn gin. “We’re not actually—”
“There he is!”
Coolidge grins apologetically at Annie and then at the rest of us. “I texted him earlier. Sorry. Didn’t get the memo about ladies’ night.”
We all turn, and I try not to stare as Huck weaves through the crowd, making his way over to us. He’s dressed in well-worn jeans that hug his glorious hips and a faded Tom Petty T-shirt. A perfectly normal pair of clothes. Underdressed for a bar, even.
So why am I sweating? Probably just the lingering effects of my glutening.
His eyes meet mine across the sea of people and his lips curl in the smallest grin only for me and I cross my legs, squeezing them together and taking a long, fortifying sip from my straw. He saunters up and is shaking hands with the men and Trina when Annie jumps up and gives his cheek a loud smacking kiss before swiping at her eyes.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m so happy you’re working with Jefferson.”
Coolidge shakes his head as if she’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, and honestly she might be.
“Sorry, Boseman,” Jefferson apologizes with an easy, loping smile. “She’s not much of a drinker, so when she does let loose, she turns into a giant sap. The first time we drank together, she basically adopted me. No getting away now.”
Huck laughs low, settling into the back of the booth, his shoulder brushing mine and sending a frisson of awareness along my skin. My heart gives a throb in my chest and I take a sip from my glass, the ice clinking clumsily against my lips. His eyes dart toward me and away before he turns to Coolidge, who is waving a server over.
Jason starts showing them something on his phone and Huck takes the opportunity to lean close and whisper in myear. I ignore the way his breath electrifies my skin. “Is it okay that I’m here?”
“Yes!” I blurt before softening my voice to match his. “Annie invited me,” I explain unnecessarily.
His eyes flash with humor before zeroing in on my mouth, and he’s so close I can practically taste his toothpaste on my tongue, and I can’t really breathe. I feel like I might pass out. Or spontaneously orgasm. Or both.
It’s been like this all week. Well, once I got over feeling like death. Even then, it’s hard to ignore a guy who runs you regular hot baths. For me anyway. Huck appears unfairly unaffected.
“Another round for the table!” Kacey suggests, interrupting our staring contest.
We get our drinks, and everyone is talking over one another, laughing and teasing, and it’s clear these two bands and Trina are close. I try not to think about how much fucking talent is sitting around this table right now and how much attention we have to be attracting by default.
“‘Independence Day,’ Martina McBride,” Huck says, raising his brow in a familiar challenge, and I grin, taking a steadying breath and feeling the world around us right itself ever so slightly.
“‘The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia,’” I counter.
“What’s this?” Coolidge asks.
“It’s an ongoing game Lore and I have played for what? A decade?”
“Roughly, sure. One of us will name a song and the other has to name a better song until we agree on the best one of the bunch. It’s kind of an honor system, really. I mean. Youcan’t just be like, ‘Achy Breaky Heart,’ when everyone knows that’s a terrible song. Anyway, stop stalling, Huckleberry.”
“How about we make it interesting?” He smirks.
“Ooh! A bet!” Annie cries out gleefully.
“Like what?” I ask, bemused. We’ve never done a wager before.
“If you win, I have to get up there and sing.”
