by Tara Wyatt
Roman waved them over to a table near the back, and several heads turned toward them as they wove their way through the crowd. However, the Brass Monkey was known for its star sightings, and they weren’t the only celebrities in the bar. On the way to their table, Taylor noticed a very famous comedian, a world-champion boxer, and a former Friend.
The waitress came by and took their drink orders, and as Chloe filled them all in on the details of writing and producing her first movie, Taylor found her eyes scanning the crowd until she picked out Colt. He stood against the wall several feet away, chatting with someone else who was clearly a bodyguard, with his suit and no-nonsense expression. She watched Colt’s hands as he talked, gesturing animatedly, telling a story. He talked with his hands a lot, she’d noticed. It was cute.
Chloe elbowed her, drawing Taylor’s attention back to her.
“Are you gonna sing?” she asked, flipping through the songbook, a stack of song request slips beside her, and a pencil poised between her fingers.
Taylor had been about to reply that she just wanted to watch when the idea of showing off for Colt snapped through her, actually making her sit up a little straighter.
Looking at him, she knew she couldn’t turn off how she felt about him. The attraction was a big part of it, sure, but there was also the sense of safety she felt whenever he was around. The sense that someone had her back and was looking out for her. She liked how she felt around him, both in the wanting to “shove him onto a bed and have her way with him” way, and the…other way. The “can’t stop writing songs about him” way.
She peered down at the songbook, but before she could make a decision, Sierra cleared her throat, her green eyes bright. “So, uh, I have some news to share,” she said, licking her lips. Taylor, Chloe, and Alexa all looked at her expectantly. Slowly, Sierra pulled her hands from her lap and held her left one up in front of her, wiggling her fingers. An antique-style diamond ring glittered on her ring finger. Chloe and Alexa both gasped, and Taylor grabbed Sierra’s hand.
“Uh, excuse me, but is this what I think it is?” she asked, studying the ring and pushing down the tiny surge of jealousy tightening her chest. God, she’d been so caught up in her own drama earlier that she hadn’t even noticed it.
A huge smile sprung up on Sierra’s face, and she nodded quickly. “If you think it’s an engagement ring, then yes!”
Chloe squealed and pushed up out of her chair, gathering Sierra in a hug.
“When did he propose?” asked Alexa, just as the waitress returned with their drinks.
“Last night. I knew we were headed down that path, but I wasn’t expecting it this soon.” Sierra and Sean had been together for nearly a year, and Taylor was willing to bet no one was surprised. Sierra and Sean were crazy about each other.
“Okay, so tell us the story. How did he propose?” Alexa leaned forward expectantly, her eyes bright.
Sierra’s face reddened and Taylor slipped an arm around her, pulling her in close. “Aw, you guys. I think they were naked.”
Sierra laughed, pressing a hand to her cheek. “Maybe.”
“You don’t have to give details. We just want the broad picture.” Alexa smiled reassuringly, and Taylor wondered if Alexa and Chloe were as weirdly happy-jealous as Taylor was, or if it was just her own messed-up reaction.
“Uh, well. We’ve been, um…working on christening the new house. And we were in the, um—” she cleared her throat and took a sip of her drink “—kitchen. On the island.” She took another sip of her drink and rushed through the rest of her story, not pausing for breath. “So, we, um, did, you know, our thing, and then he said a bunch of romantic stuff and asked me to marry him and I said yes, and he pulled the ring out of a drawer in the kitchen.”
Chloe clutched her hands to her chest. “Aw! I love that. What romantic stuff did he say?”
“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” said Alexa, giving Sierra’s arm a squeeze.
Taylor snorted. “Yes, you do. Spill it.”
“He…he told me I was the most incredible, beautiful, amazing woman he’d ever met, and that not a day goes by where I don’t make him feel like the luckiest man alive. That he loves me, more than he ever thought he’d love someone.” Sierra sighed, looking down at the ring. “Then he said he wanted to spend every single day of his life by my side, loving me. And he asked me to marry him.”
Alexa’s eyes shone and she sniffled. “I hope I find that someday.”
Chloe pulled her in for a hug. “You will, babe. You’re still young. Tons and tons of time.”
After a few more minutes of mushiness, they moved on, and thank goodness, because Taylor wasn’t sure she could’ve handled much more. She was already in a weird, off-kilter mood, and while she was happy for Sierra, the news of her engagement was only adding to Taylor’s funk. Which was messed up and selfish, but true nonetheless.
“Sean’s not coming later?” asked Chloe, standing to go hand in her song-request slips.
“No, he’s working tonight. Virtus just landed a contract with the Dodgers, so he’s in heaven. Don’t feel too bad for him.” The dopey smile she got every time she talked about him stretched across her lips. Sierra was called to the stage, and the crowd cheered her on as she wove her way between the tables.
The opening strains of “Ice Ice Baby” pumped out of the speakers, and Sierra picked up the mic, smiling sweetly. The girl couldn’t sing to save her life, but she had surprisingly good flow. From her spot at the table, she saw Colt watching as Sierra rapped, mustering up as much swagger as a white girl from Pasadena could. He smiled, and Taylor had to admit that Sierra was pretty adorable up there, nailing the lyrics.
Glancing again at Colt, Taylor began flipping through the pages of the songbook. Normally, she let her friends have the fun, not wanting to hog the spotlight or steal anyone’s thunder. But not tonight. No, she felt like showing off tonight.
After agonizing over her song choice, Taylor finally submitted her slip, stopping to take pictures with a few fans on her way back to the table, and she could feel Colt’s eyes on her the entire time. When she took her seat, she couldn’t help but notice how cozy Chloe and Roman looked as they talked in a corner of the bar, Chloe’s body angled toward him. Before the flirting could progress any further, Chloe was called up to sing Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody.”
Taylor pushed out of her seat and stalked across the bar, tapping Roman on the arm once Chloe was out of earshot. He tore his eyes away from Chloe, raising his eyebrows in question.
“Don’t hit on my friends, Roman.” Taylor shot him a stern look.
He laughed, clapping his hands together. “Get uglier friends.”
Exhaling a sharp breath, Taylor shook her head. Whatever. They were adults.
Colt had retreated to his spot against the wall, and she caught his eyes as she sat back down. He smiled that perfect, slightly cocky, eye-crinkling smile, and her stomach exploded into a thousand tiny, fluttering butterflies.
She’d felt sure about her song choice before, but now she was second-guessing it. Maybe it was stupid. Or cheesy. Or desperate. Or obvious. Or an achingly embarrassing combination of all of the above.
But it was Heart, and she knew she could sing the hell out of it, which was the main reason she’d chosen it. Not because it was a song about giving in to the lust and passion between two people. Nope. Not because of that.
Chloe finished her song, and a group of rowdy guys celebrating a bachelor party got up to sing Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust.” The waitress came back with a fresh Jack and Coke for Taylor. Maybe the alcohol would help numb the turmoil of emotions churning through her.
She listened to the conversation at their table, chiming in when appropriate, but letting Sierra and Chloe do most of the talking. Between Sierra’s engagement and Chloe’s movie, there was a lot to discuss. Finally, the DJ called Taylor’s name. As she rose from her seat, the bar filled with hoots and hollers, ev
eryone cheering her on. Including Colt, she noticed, and the butterflies fluttered in response. She hopped up onto the stage and picked up the mic, falling into familiar and comforting behaviors.
“How’s everyone doing tonight?”
A cheer rose up from the crowd.
“Everyone having a good time?” she asked, louder and with a bit more energy.
The crowd responded with a louder, more enthusiastic cheer. Smiling, she nodded at the DJ, who started the song, the opening strains of Heart’s “All I Wanna Do Is Make Love to You” echoing through the speakers. She heard Sierra give an especially loud “Wooo!” and Taylor laughed, pushing her hair over one shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and listened, not wanting to come in off-key. She opened her eyes and her mouth at the same time and started to sing.
The Brass Monkey erupted with a cheer, and she might as well have been onstage in front of thousands of fans for the rush she got, feeding off of their energy. She did her best to perform, using the entire stage and meeting as many eyes as she could in the crowd, since she knew the song by heart and didn’t need the lyric prompts from the screen. But inevitably, her eyes kept snapping back to Colt, whose mouth was tilted up in a half smile, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
She let the energy build over the song, each verse feeding into each increasingly passionate rendition of the chorus. When she got to the part about making love like strangers all night long, she pulled out all the stops, using the full power of her voice to wring as much emotion out of the words as she could, closing her eyes and letting herself get caught up in the song, losing herself in the music. When she opened her eyes, something had shifted in Colt’s gaze. Even from all the way across the bar, she could see that the amusement was gone, replaced with something darker and more intense. Something her body recognized instantly as raw desire. If she hadn’t been so used to being up onstage, she might’ve faltered. Instead, she kept pouring herself into the song, keeping the intensity going all the way through to the end. Before the final notes had faded away, raucous cheers filled the bar. She executed a curtsy and then hopped off the stage, tossing the mic back to the DJ.
When she returned to her table, she received high fives from everyone before settling back into her seat and picking up her Jack and Coke. She glanced over her shoulder at Colt, who seemed to have collected himself, and he shot her a thumbs-up along with an approving smile.
Sierra leaned across the table. “Wow. You’ve got it bad.”
“Shut up. I know.” Taylor glanced once again over her shoulder at Colt, who’d attracted the attention of a pretty brunette. She watched as the brunette swatted at Colt’s muscled arm, laughing at something he’d said.
The effort not to walk over there, shove the brunette aside and kiss Colt, right there in front of everyone, was so great that Taylor clenched her fists, feeling as though she were going to vibrate out of her seat. Tearing her eyes away and looking for a distraction, she pulled the songbook toward her, and an idea took root. She’d failed at her Ping-Pong ball prank and needed to find another way to get him back for messing with her phone. She flipped through the book, smiling when she found what she was looking for.
Oh, this was going to be good.
“Are you going to sing another one?” asked Sierra, sipping her wine.
“Nope. Not me.” She quickly filled out the slip and handed it in, mischievous excitement prickling over her skin. She signaled to the waitress for another drink to keep her occupied while she waited.
Soon enough, Colt’s name was called, pulling him away from the brunette—an added bonus to the prank—and onstage. Initially, he resisted, shaking his head with a furrowed brow, but the crowd’s cheers finally coaxed him up on stage, the peer pressure too much to withstand. The look he shot Taylor as he passed was a sexy, teasing “I’m so going to get you for this” expression, his eyes narrowed, but a smile tilting up his lips, just slightly. He clearly had no doubt as to who’d signed him up to sing. Taylor suppressed a laugh as she met his eyes and did her best to look innocent.
He tipped his head back and groaned when the DJ announced the song he’d be singing.
The music started, the opening of “SexyBack” thumping through the sound system, and Colt shot her a steely glare. He raised the mic to his lips and started to sing.
And holy hell, he was actually good.
Really good.
Taylor’s mouth dropped open and Sierra spun in her seat. “Whoa! Bet you didn’t see that coming, did you?”
No. She definitely hadn’t.
His voice wasn’t perfect, but he was hitting all the notes, and his cocky personality shone through onstage. Colt shook his shoulders and hips in perfect time with the music, looking like a seasoned pro, fun and confident. The man could move both in and out of bed, apparently.
Just when she thought his performance couldn’t get any better, he dropped to his knees and slid to the front of the stage as he launched into the chorus, giving Channing Tatum a run for his money. He was totally into it, and was killing it up there.
Taylor raised her arms over her head and let out a long cheer, totally surprised by how freaking awesome he was at karaoke. He could sing, he had rhythm, and clearly didn’t mind being up there.
He may have thwarted her attempt to prank him, but watching him up there, she didn’t even care.
* * *
Around one, the crowd began to thin at the Brass Monkey. After ensuring that everyone had a safe ride home, whether by cab, hired car, limo, or otherwise, Colt led a very tipsy Taylor to where he’d parked the Charger around back, away from the prying lenses of any paparazzi.
He’d tried to cut her off about an hour ago, subtly suggesting that maybe just a Coke without the Jack might be a good idea. She’d shot him a haughty look and ordered another drink. However, despite the number of drinks she’d consumed, she’d behaved herself all night, not causing any trouble. The worst thing she’d done was boo Roman off the stage after the terrible rendition of Madonna’s “Holiday” he’d sung, trying to impress Chloe. And even then, she’d only been joking and teasing, not meaning any real harm. Taylor had gone back up onstage once more and she and Sierra had led the bar in a sing-along of “Summer Nights” from Grease. Colt had smiled so hard through the whole thing that his cheeks had ached by the time the song finished. Taylor, playing Danny, and Sierra, playing Sandy, had been pretty adorable up there, singing to each other and encouraging the entire bar to join in.
“Did you have fun tonight?” he asked as he held open the passenger’s-side door for Taylor. She took a step toward him.
“Shhhhhhhh,” she whispered, and sloppily pressed her right index finger against his lips, smushing them together in a smeary motion. “You’re so pretty.”
“O-kay,” he said with a chuckle, stepping back and gently guiding her into the car. She tumbled in with a laugh, her eyes bright in the semidarkness.
“So pretty.” She sighed and curled into the seat.
Making sure her long legs were safely tucked in, he closed the door and jogged around to the other side. Dropping into the driver’s seat, he glanced over at her. To make sure she wasn’t puking in the Charger. Not because he couldn’t ever seem to keep his eyes off her for more than a few torturous seconds at a time.
“Did you have fun tonight?” she asked, swiveling her head around in a lazy semicircle to look at him. “I made you sing.” She leaned toward him, as if confiding some deep, dark secret. “And you were really, really good.”
He let out a low chuckle. “Well, thank you. I like singing. There was usually a karaoke machine kicking around on base, so I’ve had some practice. That being said, maybe we should cool it on the pranks, given everything that’s going on with your dad, and your stalker.”
“Ha! So you’re conceding defeat in the prank war?”
“Hey, now. Didn’t say that.”
She blew out a breath, making a raspberry sound. “Please. Prince Sparklepants? Strippers
? I totally win.” Before he could reply, she charged ahead on a completely different path. “Let’s go to 7-Eleven!” She clapped her hands together enthusiastically.
“For what?”
She shot him a puzzled glare as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto Wilshire Boulevard. “For a burrito. Duh.”
“You don’t need a burrito.”
“Nobody needs a burrito. I want one, and there’s a 7-Eleven a few blocks up. So. Onward.” Leaning back against the headrest, she turned to look at him. “Are you telling me you’ve never gone to 7-Eleven for burritos after the bar?”
He shrugged. “I guess not.”
“Dude, where have you been?”
“Well, there was that time I was in the Army for twelve years.”
“They don’t have burritos in the Army?” She arched an eyebrow.
He suppressed the smile teasing across his lips. “Not usually.”
“Were you ever scared?” she asked quietly.
“Sometimes.”
“Did you kill people?”
He turned to look at her, not wanting to get into all of that shit tonight. “Taylor, I don’t want to talk about this right now.” Or ever.
“Oh. Sorry.” She turned away to look out the window, angling her body away from him, and he felt like an asshole.
“Don’t be sorry. I just…” He swung into the brightly illuminated 7-Eleven parking lot. “It’s not something I like to talk about.”
“Well.” She swung her head back toward him, her blue eyes bright even in the dark interior of the car. “If you ever do feel like talking…” She shrugged. “You could talk to me.”
“I appreciate that.”
But he wasn’t sure she heard him because she’d already pushed open the car door, singing “Burrito time!” in a high-pitched, girly voice.
He really should’ve tried harder to dissuade her from those last couple of drinks. Shaking his head, he followed her through the parking lot, and held the door for her to go ahead of him into the convenience store. The store was empty, so hopefully they’d be in and out in minutes flat. She took a few steps in before whirling so quickly that he didn’t have time to stop, and they collided. Instinctively, his arms went around her to steady her, and she swayed into him.