We pileinto our favorite booth after the set, buzzing with energy. Being up there, performing like that to an appreciative crowd… it’s the best kind of high there is. No drug, natural or synthetic, can even come close to the rush I feel when I’m on stage.
“That was fucking incredible!” Lincoln drums his hands against the tabletop in a feverish beat. “I could kiss every single one of you!”
Lacey leans away from him, a glower on her face. “Please don’t. You’re sweaty.”
He shakes his head like a dog, sending droplets of perspiration flying everywhere. She screeches in displeasure and ducks her head against my chest for protection.
“Gross, man.” I reach across the table and shove his shoulder. “Not looking to share bodily fluids with you. God only knows where you’ve been.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “Wherehaven’tI been is the true question.”
Aiden clears his throat. “Anyone else see those record label guys in the crowd?”
“Yep.” I lean back against the leather booth. “They seemed pretty interested.”
Lacey is still half-sprawled against my chest. Her peroxide blonde hair smells sickly sweet, like hairspray and bubblegum shampoo. I’d push her away but I know from experience that if I do, she’ll pitch a fit and act like a bitch for the rest of the night, basically ensuring she’ll blow our big shot if the Red Machine scouts swing by to talk to us.
“You think we should approach them?” Linc asks, eyes bight with excitement. “Give them a contact card or a demo…”
“No.” Aiden’s voice is firm. “We wait for them to come to us. Otherwise it looks desperate.”
Linc sighs. “Dude, wearedesperate.”
“They don’t need to know that.”
“Ryder, what do you think?” Lacey cranes her head up and peers into my face.
I open my mouth to answer, but the sound of a delicate throat clearing to my left cuts me off.
“Sorry,” a lilting, melodic voice says. Recognition slams into me. “I don’t mean to interrupt…”
“So don’t,” Lacey mutters under her breath, rolling her eyes at the perceived intrusion. I ignore her, too focused on the girl hovering to my left to care much about the one still pressed tight against my right.
I brace myself before I glance over, but she still takes the wind out of me. She’s standing there blushing furiously, avoiding my eyes as she stares down at her notepad. Her hands are shaking.
She’s so fucking beautiful.
“I was just wondering if y’all need any drinks.” She shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other, as though she’d rather be anywhere else. “But if you need a minute, I’ll come back.”
“Not so fast, sweetheart.” Lincoln slides over on the booth so he’s closer to her, eyes intent on her face. “You’re new.”
She nods. “Just moved here a few weeks ago.”
“Well, I don’t know if you’re aware of this yet, but I like to think of myself as a sort of unofficial welcoming committee here in Nashville.” Linc is pouring on the charm thicker than honey. “Lincoln Travers, at your service.” He reaches for her hand and presses a kiss to her skin. “And you are…?”
A small smile twitches her lips up at the corners as she extracts her hand from his grip.
I swallow down a growl. I’ve spent the past few weeks wondering what her name might be. How the syllables will feel rolling off my tongue for the first time. Damned if I’m going to let Linc steal that moment from me.
“I’m—” she starts.
“We’ll take a bottle of whiskey,” I cut her off before she can finish, my tone dismissive. “Jack Daniels will do.”
Is it a dick move?
Absolutely.
But it’s my only option at the moment.