Page 3 of High Note

“Mmm.” Chey grinned. “And we wouldn’t be here.”

“Old ladies,” she teased.

“Shit yes,” Evie said. “I have dogs and horses and shit. They wake up early.”

“And I’m a baker. I have to be up at the crack of dawn.” Chey winked at her. “You sound amazing. Love the new nose ring.”

“Thanks! It’s a little amethyst.” Her own little bit of violet.

“I love it,” Evie agreed.

“Hey, Kirsten. Beer tonight?” Gage, the bartender on duty, gave her a slow once-over.

“Looking fine, lady.”

She cracked up. “You too, schoompsie poo.” Gage always knew how to make a woman feet hot. Gay, straight, or a mix of both.

Gage blew her a kiss and then headed on, flirting outrageously with absolutely everyone. The man was a money-making machine.

They chatted, the beer cold, the potato skins, which arrived in another order soon after she sat down—thank you Gage—hot. She was just thinking she needed to get back on the stage and earn her keep when a ripple went through the crowd.

Whispers started up, and by the time they reached the bar, they sounded like, “Is that really her? Wow. She’s a star. What is she doing here? Oh, I love her music.”

Nope. Nope. She was not going to listen. She couldn’t get wigged out, no matter who was here. She had a gig to do, and there had been a couple of B-list celebrities who had wandered through Summit Springs.

She could handle it.

Evie raised an eyebrow. “Not even going to go peek at who just showed up?”

She scoffed. “This is Summit Springs, not Aspen or Austin or something. It’s not like Melissa Etheridge just walked through the door.”

“What if it’s Tori Amos?” Chey asked.

“My mothers would cream their jeans.”

Evie cackled. “Lord, now you’re calling me old again.”

“You’re not that old,” she said.

The ripple got louder, then stopped, which meant whoever it was they’d brought her to this room to sit. Sure enough, everyone was staring, so she winked at Chey, and they both turned to see who the big name was.

Damn.

Skyla Bridey was the hottest ticket in country music right now, and the sequined ball cap didn’t really disguise her bright curls and dimples worth a shit.

Wow.

Seriously.

Wow.

How the hell was she supposed to get up there and sing with a professional in the audience?

How the hell was this supposed to work?

Chapter Three

Skyla knew everyone was staring, so she did what she did best. She put on her big old Texas smile and she went into aw-shucks mode.

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