Sunny gave him the mike, her shoulders relaxed now. “Good. I would’ve hated it if I had to sing in front of you.”
“Do ‘Nowhere’!” somebody said from behind me.
“The machine won’t let you cancel a song about to start,” the bartender said. “But you can erase the rest of the entry and put that one in for next.” Then he turned to Killian. “You ready?”
“Yup.”
Sue came back with three beers. “Hot damn. We’re in for a treat,” she said, her eyes on the stage.
I took my drink and watched Killian get ready. I’d never been to a concert—or a karaoke night—so I had no idea what to expect. But even I could tell Killian somehow already owned not only the stage but the whole bar. He just commanded attention, his bright blue gaze shining on everyone there to see him perform.
He began singing, his voice slightly husky. Unlike Eric, who’d been loud but not necessarily good, Killian was hitting the notes, and there was a charge to the way he sang—a power that made your nerve endings come alive and your blood to pulse a little faster in your veins.
When he reached the chorus, everyone was singing with him. He even pointed the mike at the crowd, which had gone crazy. Since I didn’t know the words, I merely clapped and enjoyed the show.
The last note died, and the crowd erupted. “‘Nowhere’! ‘Nowhere’!” they shouted in unison.
I laughed at their reaction. I’d expected “bravo” or “encore,” not “‘Nowhere.’” They must be eager for more. And to be honest, I was too. I wanted to see him sing his own song.
“Come on, Killian! ‘Nowhere’!” the bartender shouted.
Killian laughed, his eyes bright and full of joy, then he nodded.
An elaborate guitar and drum started, and he belted out the song I’d heard only a couple of times on YouTube.
Hearing the recording—even with the music video—was nothing like watching him sing live. There was a raw power and charge to his voice that no recording equipment could capture. And it flowed out over the crowd—over me—unrestrained. He was a musician, a hypnotist, and I couldn’t look away. He shone like a supernova as he performed for the small crowd in a small bar in small town, Virginia. It felt like he was singing only for me, his eyes only on me, and I finally understood why rock stars were called rock stars.
Everyone, including me, got to their feet and swayed to the music. It was as though in this moment, nothing else existed. My heart pounded, my body hot. All thought seemed to have vanished except for the joy his music was pouring into me at the moment.
Our eyes met, and an electric jolt went through me. And with that came an understanding and admiration—he was taking people away from their mundane life and making them feel alive. People were listening to him for this, this experience, just like people bought my books to escape for a while.
Something hot and sweet and unfamiliar welled in my chest. I almost couldn’t draw in enough air, sweat misting over my skin even though all I was doing was standing and immersing myself in his mesmerizing voice.
When the song ended, the crowd erupted again. Killian grinned at them, then at me, his eyes bright.
The excitement from his performance still sizzled through me. I smiled at him, wanting him to see how his music affected me.
Somebody handed Killian a glass of water and a piece of paper. He took a sip, then read it. His eyebrows quirked up, and I wondered what it said. Better not be a phone number.
Whoa, wait. Where did that hot, angry thought come from? We weren’t dating, were we? Just because we’d spent a lot of time together recently and he’d helped me with a snake didn’t mean…
But that searing, ugly feeling was definitely jealousy.
Before I could think about my reaction, Killian said, “Okay, so apparently today is Sam and Fiona’s anniversary.”
“Yeah, Sam and Fiona!” came a shout.
“Congrats!”
One person started clapping, and everyone joined in.
Mir leaned over and indicated a beaming couple sitting a few tables away. They waved to the crowd.
“And he’d like to dedicate a song to his wife,” Killian added when the crowd quieted down some. “Now this is the last song I’m doing, ’cause I’m starting to get hungry.”
Everyone laughed.
We sat down. And a mellow melody I didn’t recognize started. I tapped Mir’s shoulder. “What’s this one?”
She looked at me like I’d come from Mars. “How can you not know this? It’s ‘Wonderful Tonight.’”
“I don’t do music that much,” I said.
“Ever hear of Eric Clapton?”
I thought. “The name kind of does ring a bell, but…”
Mir continued to stare, but then Killian began singing a slow love song. It surprised me that he handled it so well, because he was in a rock band, and I assumed a rocker wouldn’t be able to sing something like this. But his voice was so full of intimate longing that it sent the same kind of longing through me. Okay, now I totally understood why women fell for rock stars and dressed as skimpily as possible and exercised nine hundred hours a day while eating two leaves of lettuce.
Because if I had a chance with a man who sang like Killian and made me feel like this, I would do the same.
When the song ended, the cheering and clapping were deafening. Killian took a bow and blew kisses, basking in the moment.
Suddenly, he turned and looked directly at me, a boyish grin on his lips. In the midst of the tumult, my heart galloped harder and I swore I could hear it thudding, even over the crowd. If I were more fanciful, I might’ve thought it was the sound of myself tumbling into a major crush.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Killian
I jumped off the stage and made my way back to the table, the performance high still rushing through me. Being on the stage and having a crowd go wild was always a rush. During that moment we were one, connected to each other through the magic of music.
The appetizers Mir ordered had just come out—Sue probably delayed them a little out of consideration for me.
Mir high-fived me. “Still got the power, bro!” she said.
“Thanks.” Sitting down, I glanced at Emily. She’d said she didn’t do music, but it looked like she was having fun. I’d been able to see her smile from the stage, but she could’ve done that to be polite. She was the only woman I knew who considered my drumming “noise pollution.”
“So. Did you have fun?” I asked, trying to sound careless.
She lifted her chin and gazed at me. “Amazing,” she said. “You were amazing.”
The light in her green eyes was electric. My mind got wiped clean of every thought except one—she is so beautiful. Beautiful wasn’t enough—she was brilliant. I wanted to freeze the moment, etch her like this in my memory forever.
I wanted to kiss her and see her look at me with that same shining light. And dance with her all night, our hands linked, fingers threading fingers until our hearts galloped in unison and we were both breathless, our blood rushing fast and hot.
Emily flushed, but didn’t look away.
“Oh my gosh, it’s Yve! I gotta go say hi,” Mir squealed. The smile on Emily’s face shifted to a curious look, and the moment broke.