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The song starts quietly. Just Augie’s voice and his guitar for the first verse. His voice is the kind you don’t often hear coming out of a small-town bar band. Warm at the bottom, a little scratchy at the top, and he sings like he means every word.
Nikko is right at the front, completely mesmerized.
The song builds. Jack’s guitar comes in, then Danny’s keys. Augie hits the chorus, and the whole thing lifts.
A kiss at the door and a name in the dark
Mistletoe green and a match we won’t spark
You can call it a season, call it a scene
But midnight remembers the things that we mean
Fox was looking at the stage, but his eyes are on me now.
The song ends and the room cheers. Augie laughs into the mic, does a small bow, and thanks everyone. The band launches straight into something faster and the mood shifts.
Across the table, Fox’s eyes practically burn with the words he’s not saying.
“So.” Stone comes back from the bar with our beers and drops into his chair. He turns to Bastian immediately. “Are we going to talk about how you and Taylen were practically setting the table on fire with those looks?”
I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t laugh. If only he knew how much they antagonize each other. Wouldn’t surprise me if one day Bastian wakes up with Taylen standing over him with a very sharp weapon.
Bastian, across from me, looks like he wants to disappear into his whiskey.
“There were no looks,” he says.
“Dude,” Nikko says, appearing out of nowhere to get his beer.
My brother has never been able to hide when he’s rattled. He’s the lead singer of one of the biggest rock bands in the world, and he still can’t hold a poker face against his friends.
I sip my beer and watch him squirm.
Because if Stone and Nikko are busy with Bastian, they’re not looking at anyone else.
“I thought Sylvie was going to force you both into a timeout,” Nikko says. “The tension was thick enough to scoop with one of her serving spoons.”
“Can we not do this?” Bastian begs, but Stone doesn’t let up.
“Do what?”
I glance up, and Fox is still watching me.
His face is neutral, but his eyes have that glint they get when he’s reading the passages I underlined in the romance novels on my shelf.
I let my mouth curve.
Just a little.
He looks away first and takes a long drag from his beer. I lean forward with my elbows on the table and turn to my brother.
“You looked ready to either strangle him or—” I start.
“Don’t,” Bastian warns.
Stone doesn’t need my help. “Or drag him somewhere private and work out all that aggression.”
Bastian looks murderous. I decide I’ve done enough and settle back with my beer. Across from me, Fox’s mouth twitches.
