Page 115 of All Twerk, No Play

My chest exploded with a laugh, and Cruz’s lips parted in surprise as I pointed an accusing finger. “Hands off my man, McNamara.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll let you have him.” Connor held up his hands in mock surrender. I pulled his head closer to plant an affectionate kiss on his temple, leaving him momentarily stunned.

Cruz’s eyes lit up at our interaction … then seemed to make a decision. “Hey everyone, change of plans. You know that girlfriend I told you about? She’s right there, the gorgeous redhead. Give the people a wave, baby. I shot him a glare that said, ‘Don’t you fucking dare,’ which only made his mischievous smile brighten.

“Listen, that woman has serious pipes. If you encourage her, we might convince her to join me for a song. Could you help me?”

No. He wasn’t doing this to me. Just the idea of performing made my stomach threaten rebellion.

My pulse pounded in my neck, and I closed my eyes to think it through. If I resisted, he’d feign a big frown and let me off the hook. He wouldn’t force me or drag me.

But he also wouldn’t ask me if he didn’t know I could handle it. Just like all our runs, when I didn’t think I could take another step, and he’d somehow know I had another mile in me. He wouldn’t do this to embarrass me.

And maybe, deep down, there was a tiny part of me, just a cell, that wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. A single molecule that wanted to know how he felt to stand on that stage without fear, to feed off the joy of the crowd and live in the moment.

“Come on,Cobrecita.Please?”Cruz said. I opened my eyes to his encouraging smile. “Get that sexy ass up here and sing with me.”

I let that molecule lead.

I thrust my shoulders back to fake confidence, concealing my fear with annoyance. I stomped to the mic and threatened, “You’re going to pay for this.”

With his cockiest grin, he replied into his mic in a suggestive rumble. “I’m looking forward to it.”

A cat-call screeched, and at my table, Kate’s fingers were in her mouth. I raised my middle finger to my table, where Mallory lifted her phone to capture the moment. Great, video evidence to memorialize when I crash and burn.

Suddenly, everything felt more intense: the heat of the lights, the amplifier feedback at my feet, the stale alcohol scent. My vision tunneled and my chest tightened. I blinked, trying to clear the spots in front of my eyes. I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t—

Cruz touched his forehead to my temple. “You and me, baby. Just you and me.”

I nodded, then he started playing a song he knew I’d know. I couldn’t look at the crowd or I’d panic, so I aimed my voice at the microphone and sang to him and him alone. My voice surprised me with its unwavering confidence, my gaze locked on Cruz, buoying my spirits and creating a safe harbor.

As we flowed into the second verse, he tilted his head in a silent reminder about our audience. I looked out over the crowd, channeling the strength I’d honed at the negotiation table. I found my courage: belting powerful lines that until now had only echoed around my shower tiles. I didn’t care what people thought, because they didn’t know me, or him, or how much stronger we were together.

In the final stanza, I threw my arms out, half-screaming the last lines; I was finally home.

My eyes opened, landing on his.

He swung his guitar over his shoulder as I threw my arms around his shoulders. I barely heard the crowd’s cheers as he whispered, “Told you the bar wanted to hear you.”

I shook my head against his neck. “The world needs to hear you. You’re the best, Cruz.”

“Seriously?” He pulled back to search my gaze. “You’re not pissed at me for calling you up here?”

“Oh, I’m pissed as hell,” I laughed as the band returned to the stage. “But you can make it up to me tonight.”

The crowd hollered as he wrapped his arm around my waist, tugged me flush to his body and dipped his mouth to mine. I kissed him without restraint until he let out a groan in the back of his throat. “Don’t be surprised if all these songs are double tempo to get us the fuck out of here.”

When I laughed, he smacked my ass hard enough to make me shriek and said loudly enough that it would be picked up by the mic. “Stop throwing yourself at me, woman.”

As I retreated off the stage, he leaned into the mic and said, “Can you believe a woman that hot and talented is dating me? Because I sure can’t.”

“Holy shit,” Kate said, clapping me on the back. “I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“Me neither,” I said, tipping my Pinot Grigio back in celebration and signaling for another.

“Um, Victoria?” Mallory said, lifting his finger to a side door of the pub … where Alexander Clarke stood staring, mouth agape.

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