“Yeah.”
“I haven’t seen you around before. You work at the school or something?” He held out his hand. “I’m Jace, by the way.”
“Keats.” He shook the guy’s hand and then reached for his beer again. “And no, not from the school.”
Jace’s eyebrow arched and he gave Keats a more assessing look, then smiled. Keats must’ve given something away in the comment because Jace looked like he’d answered some question for himself. “No wonder I haven’t seen Colby around lately.”
Embarrassment welled in Keats when he realized what Jace was assuming. “It’s not—”
“Any of my business,” Jace finished, and lifted his glass again. “Here’s to both of us getting lucky tonight then, huh?”
Jace clinked his glass against Keats’s beer and appeared far too amused at how uncomfortable he’d made him. Keats wanted to hightail it out of there right then, but he wasn’t going to be a coward about this.
Robyn, the girl who’d been performing, wrapped up her set and then strolled out a few minutes later. She was grinning as she walked up to Jace and gave him a big hug. “You came!”
Jace released her from the hug and laughed. “That’s what she said.”
Robyn rolled her eyes. “Seriously, boss, you gotta give that line up.”
“Never. I will cling to it with my dying breath.” He moved out of the way and let her take the
stool next to Keats. “You did great, kiddo. You’re way too talented to be working for me.”
“Whatever.”
“Hey, have a drink on me. This is Keats, Colby’s friend. He’ll keep you company. I’ll be right back.”
Robyn barely glanced Keats’s way at first, but then turned to take a second, slower look that said she liked what she saw. Normally, Keats would’ve flipped on the switch and sent a flirty smile back. The girl was pretty, talented, and closer to his age than Georgia and Colby were. But he couldn’t muster up that side of himself. Plus, he was too busy being annoyed that Jace had assigned him a job. Did Colby only have friends who liked to dish out orders?
Robyn slid onto the stool, ordered a beer, and then twisted her curly hair into a loose ponytail, securing it with a rubber band. She fanned her neck. “Damn, those lights are hot up there.” She leaned his way. “At least that’s what I’m telling myself and not that I’m sweating like this from nerves.”
Keats smiled at that. “First time I ever played at an open mic night I looked like the Before shot in a deodorant commercial. I learned to always have a jacket on hand.”
She popped the collar of her khaki army jacket. “Already ahead of you.” She took a sip from her drink. “So you’re a musician, too?”
He shrugged. “When I’m not doing things that make actual money, yes.”
She laughed. “I hear ya. I’d starve to death if I used this to support myself. But I have a good gig with Jace. I’m the manager of his store, and he’s easy to work for, even if he insists on calling me kiddo no matter how old I am.”
Keats smirked. “I know the feeling.”
She turned to face him fully, the pink highlights and her dark hair making her green eyes stand out in the dim light of the bar. “So how come you’re not playing tonight? It’s open mic.”
Keats shook his head. “I’m just here to see my friend. I haven’t done the stage thing in a while. I’d probably bomb.”
She pressed her lips together in mock consternation. “No way you could be worse than the dude who went on before me and sang about his dead dog.” She put a hand to his knee and leaned forward. For all the sweating she claimed, she still smelled like some light, flowery perfume. “Come on. You can even borrow my guitar if you need one. I’d love to see you play.”
Keats licked his lips. If he’d had any doubt she was flirting before, he knew for sure now. Her hand was more on his thigh than his knee. A week ago, this would’ve been a perfect setup. He’d always had a thing for confident girls who weren’t afraid to make a move. But it didn’t feel right tonight.
Big hands landed on Robyn’s shoulders, and Jace gave her a little squeeze. “Fall back, kiddo. This one’s nice to look at, but I think Keats belongs to someone else.”
Robyn peered up at Jace and then back to Keats, sending him a slightly apologetic look as she moved her hand from his leg. “I was only trying to convince him to take a turn onstage.”
“Uh-huh,” Jace said, his smile sly. “Sure you were.”
Keats had been rendered speechless at Jace’s comment—Keats belongs to someone else—but now his mind snapped back into place. Irritation edged his voice when he finally spoke. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
And fuck it, maybe this was what he needed after all. A pretty girl who seemed more than interested in what he had to offer. But just when he was about to make a really self-serving move, the deep, rumbling voice of one Colby Wilkes filled the space around him. Keats stopped everything he was about to say, his attention drawn inexorably toward the stage. Colby was perched on a stool, one foot braced on the rung and the other leg stretched to the floor. His ball cap was low over his eyes but his hair curled around the edges, and the flash of dimples hid in the almost-smile. Even on that small stage in this small bar, wearing jeans and a simple flannel shirt, Colby looked like a fucking rock star.