“What is your song?” she asked, lips curving around the rim of her beer glass. Fuck, she was so damn luscious he could barely take his eyes off her as she took a sip.
Marshall waved the question away and shook his head. “I don’t have a song.”
Evan chuckled and slapped Marshall on the back. “Buddy, you’re being modest.” Evan turned to Colette. “He totally has a song.”
Colette placed a hand over her mouth to cover a giggle.
“I need to know it!” she said, eyes wide with delight. “Do it for me, Marshall.”
His stomach flopped.
Simone shook her head. “Here we go…” she said, taking a sip of her vodka soda with a saucy grin. “Do it, Marshall. You can’t say no to that face, can you?”
Marshall cleared his throat and grumbled a curse under his breath, then pushed up to standing. He glanced at Colette.
It was impossible to say no to those beautiful eyes so wide with hope.
Fuck Evan. Marshall would go sing while Evan made a move on Colette? Maybe it was best if he didn’t watch the courtship unfold. It was making him a little sick.
Making his way to the stage, he knocked Evan’s cowboy hat on the ground as he passed. That would serve him right. Evan guffawed as he went to pick up his hat, and Marshall brusquely grabbed the mic from the karaoke DJ, who had just announced his name.
Chills ran through his body. It would be fine as long as he kept his eyes away from her. The woman who made every word in the song ring true. He tapped his boot on the floor as the steady beat of “I’m On Fire” by Bruce Springsteen began. Thankfully, it was a short song, so he would be done quickly. His voice was scratchy at first. He wasn’t used to singing karaoke as well as Evan, who tortured them with the same damn song every time. Marshall was out of practice.
He liked Bruce Springsteen because his voice was a little rough, just like Marshall’s, and the words of the song were repetitive and easy. Nothing else about his night had been easy so far. He identified with the struggle and the lust in the lyrics. The words were always hot, but tonight, as his eyes briefly locked with a pair of blue eyes across the bar, it hit different. A disturbing rush of warmth spread across his face, and he turned to focus on a table of rowdy women who were cheering him on.
Yes, best to keep his eyes away from Colette.
Her gaze was entrancing. Too captivating.
It would not do to be seen blushing from a mere locking of their eyes. So, he blew a kiss and waved to the lusty ladies in front, one of whom caught the kiss and sighed, enamored. His hand gripped the microphone as the song ended, and he did everything in his power not to look at the cherry-red lips and the hands covering her mouth in glee.
Damn it.
He blushed again.
Colette stood to clap enthusiastically when his song ended, and Marshall’s stomach flopped. Her joy teased a small smile from his lips, and his chest suddenly felt lighter. Was he proud? Proud of having impressed Colette? Lord help him. He was preening like a peacock.
He handed over the mic as though it was on fire and ambled back to the table to cradle his beer once again.
Marshall was in big trouble.
Teetering dangerously on the brink of doing something stupid.
He was on fire.
Colette Slip was the only one who could put it out.
CHAPTER 20
It seemed like Colette was fitting right into his friend group. Marshall was delighted.
Just delighted.
“Do it, Colette.” Evan’s mouth curved into a flirty smile. “Sing for me. You have to.”
“Fine. It’s an eighties classic, and it’s gonna blow your mind,” Colette promised, pointing a finger at Evan. She had slowly sipped a few beers, and Marshall watched her like a hawk. It took some convincing after Simone did her best version of “Pink Pony Club”, which apparently was not a western song at all, despite the title.
After making her song selection, Colette picked up the mic.
