“What if I said that I wanted to sing a song? With you.”
His eyes light up. “Any song you want. And I literally mean anything.”
I can’t wipe the smile off my face when I see Hannah jump up and start clapping. “Oh my God! She’s going to sing! Shelby! She’s really going to sing!”
“Fuck yeah,” Shelby says. “I personally think you should go back to your show choir days.”
“Show choir huh?” Maddox says as he stands up in front of me. “I should let you know, I’m quite the showman myself. As you could see from my performance earlier. And while I think my teammates are doing a hell of a job up there, I think a duet is exactly what this place needs.”
My initial reaction is to change my mind when Maddox holds out his hand for me, even though I’m the one who suggested it. One moment of doubt is all I need to wonder if this is a good idea. I mean, after thirteen years of being married to a man who hated when I sang doesn’t go away with the signature of a divorce paper.
Then I remember Maddox’s words. Why I’m here this weekend. The dress I’m wearing. That Justin hated anytime I even hummed.
I smile up at Maddox, who’s hand hasn’t moved as he waits for me.
“I can really pick the song?”
Maddox’s smile is at full wattage now. “Gorgeous, you can pick whatever song you like.”
CHAPTER 5
MADDOX
Imeant what I said that Gabi could pick whatever song she wanted. But I never would’ve guessed this one.
But you know what? Fuck it. I’m down to get my Danny Zuko on. Little does she know I played this role back in my high school musical days. All I’m missing is a fake leather jacket and some slicked-back hair.
I haven’t sung this song in years and obviously never with her. But you wouldn’t be able to tell that if you were in the crowd watching. She’s playing off my moves and lyrics and I’m doing the same for her part. Though I have to remind myself that I need to keep up my end of the performance because it would be easy as hell to stare at her as she owns the stage. Between her voice and her moves, it’s mesmerizing to watch her.
Then again, she could be pretending to be a mime and I’d still think it was hot as hell.
I don’t know what it is about this woman, but somehow with every moment I spend with her, I’m more and more attracted to her. Yes, her face and body are fucking perfection, but it’s more than that. So much more. It’s her smile. The way she’s the contradiction of confident but also a little timid in some ways.It’s how this black dress is trying to kill me in front of hundreds of people.
I want to know about her. I want to know what makes her tick. I want to know what she’s wearing—if anything—under that dress. Is she a satin or lace girl? Is it black to match her dress? Or did her boldness overtake earlier as well and it’s nothing?
That last one might be a stretch of luck, but if I do get to experience it on the night I won my third championship, I’d consider this the greatest day of my life. I’m not getting my hopes up, though. She’s fresh off a divorce and here with her girlfriends. Having a hookup with a guy she just met is probably not on her itinerary for this trip. And I respect that. Doesn’t mean a guy still can’t wish.
Or try.
So knowing that, I’m going to bask in these last few moments of the song, spin Gabi into my arms, and memorize her beautiful face as the song fades away.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our favorite duo, give it up one more time for Maddox and Gabi!” the emcee says into the mic as our song comes to an end. The crowd responds as everyone in the audience is standing and cheering as we take our bows. We each hand back our microphones as I put my hand on the small of her back to guide her down off the stage. Before we can take a step back toward our VIP section, Gabi twirls around toward me, simultaneously throwing her arms over my shoulders.
“That was… gah! That was so much fun!” she says, and it’s in this moment I decide to buy her a karaoke bar just to see this smile multiple times over the course of my life. “Can I say thank you?”
“You can, but I don’t know what you’re thanking me for,” I say, not missing the opportunity to place each of my hands carefully on her luscious, flawless, hips. “I sang a song with you.You’ll never need to thank me for that. And if you ever want to do that again, all you have to do is give me the signal.”
“I like that. But what’s the signal?”
“It’s your signal, I think you should come up with it.”
Her eyes start shifting, like this is the hardest question she’s ever been asked. “I think I’m going to need a few more drinks to come up with a perfect one.”
“That I can also do,” I say as I reluctantly move my hands from her hips but take one of her hands in mine. I also resist the urge to kiss her, which I think should be commended. “I believe there are bottles waiting for us.”
We start weaving through the crowd and back to the VIP section. I receive some back slaps and high-fives along the way, though right now I don’t know if it’s because of my performance on the field tonight or the performance on stage. I hope both. They’re equally impressive. Who else do you know can have a pick-six in the biggest game of their careers and then become an honorary T-Bird a few hours later?
It’s why I’m one of a kind.
