“There’s lot to see. All sorts. Lots of pretty men.” Colt winked at him, looked him up and down.
He hoped Colt wouldn’t be disappointed that he wasn’t the type to blush. “Lots. And I’ve always got my eyes open. But I’m only looking at one right now.”
“Listen to you. I’m just another bayou baby, but I ’preciate it.”
Colt apparently was the blushing type. The little dip of his chin and the roll in his dark eyes was lovely.
Kyle decided to push a little harder, see what he got. He laid a hand on Colt’s thigh and slid it slowly down over the musician’s knee, giving it a squeeze. “I need another drink, bayou baby; you want something?”
“No, sir. I reckon whatever’s fixin’ to happen, I don’t want to be high for it.” Colt spread for him, natural as breathing. “I still got me half a beer.”
“The night is young.” He stood, trailing his hand up a muscled arm and across Colt’s strong shoulders on his way to the bar. Mmm. He liked that answer. He didn’t plan on being high for it either. Just a little bit loose. It wasn’t early at all, except by theater standards. Nothing fun started until at least 11:00 p.m. with this crowd.
He set his empty glass down on the bar. “Jenny! Darling. Hook me up?”
“You got it. Beer too for your friend?”
“No, if you can believe it. Apparently he’s not the drinker I am. And he’s a date, not a friend. Isn’t he lovely?”
“He is. Wild curls and completely new to town, isn’t he?”
“New to town, new to me, totally new. I can’t wait to get my fingers into those curls.” He leaned on the bar and looked over in Colt’s direction. “He’s here for a studio gig, so I don’t get the impression he’ll be in town long, but while he’s here, I’m hoping to enjoy the hell out of him.”
She pushed his drink across the bar. “Go play. Give him something to remember.”
“On it! Thank you.” He picked up his glass, left her cash and a decent tip. After a sip of his drink, he was wondering if he shouldn’t have left her more. It was strong as fuck.
“That’s Trixie up there on the guitar, she’s fun. And in a second, I bet… yep. That’s Greg with his slap-top drum.” He sat back down beside Colt and set his glass next to the beer on the table. He dropped a hand onto Colt’s knee, but his eyes were on the little stage.
Colt was moving to the music, totally focused on the rhythm, leg and head bobbing, hands drumming on the table.
He’s into it. Kyle gave Colt a smile, nodding to the beat of the music. They were just having some after-hours fun here. Colt was probably a much better musician than most people in the room, but the guy was into it anyway. That was cool. After a minute, he recognized the song and started throwing out lyrics, and Ali joined in and sang along with him.
Soon a harmony started up, rich and low, the sound vibrating in his bones.
Ali clapped her hands and moved over to Colt, sitting her petite little butt right in Colt’s lap. Kyle leaned in, matching Ali on the melody until she shifted up a third, giving him goose bumps. He wasn’t a trained singer at all, but he could carry a tune, and he managed the melody okay. A couple of other people joined in to back him up.
Up onstage Trixie and Greg stepped it up a notch, and the bar just filled up with music.
Lips brushed his ear, Timmy’s voice whispering, “You want to see something, man? Hand him a guitar.”
The neck of an old battered acoustic pressed into his hand.
He had no idea whose it was, but that hardly mattered; stuff ended up passed around at these things all the time. He took hold of it and gave Timmy a nod, then pushed his chair back to give Colt some room. Ali put her eyes on the guitar and got out of the way, grinning.
Kyle didn’t have to make much of an offer. As soon as Colt laid his eyes on the instrument, he pulled it right into his lap.
Colt bent to the guitar and music started pouring out. Kyle had to admit that Colt wasn’t trying to outdo Trixie; he wasn’t trying to steal the spotlight. Colt was joining the stream of music and… bending it, making it more bluesy, giving it a richness, a soul.
Ali rested a hand on Kyle’s shoulder, and he looked up, listening to the way her rock style shifted in tone as well, blending with Colt’s harmony. She cocked her head at him and gave him a thumbs-up.
He listened to that guitar and the way it made him want to move, and he realized suddenly that he might have already found the musician he was looking for to help him with his next original project. Assuming he could afford Colt. Someone with this guy’s talent wasn’t coming cheap.
The longer Colt played, the looser the lean body got, the way Colt moved with the guitar pure, liquid sex. Oh, he intended to turn Colt inside out, see what made the musician tick.
“Fucking hot,” Mig mouthed at him across the table and licked his lips.
“Mine,” he mouthed back, dead serious, sending Mig into a fit of laughter.Poach someone else’s date. He’d given up singing—everyone but Ali and Colt had—as the pop song that had started all of this evolved into a jam.