Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
“One night.” Danny slid four twenty-dollar bills that he’d found in the Jeep’s center console across the counter, shooting me a sheepish smile. “I’ll pay him back,” he promised.
As if I cared. I’d pay his friend back if it meant staying a night here and not going back to the mansion tonight.
But it was cheap, and it was here. It was the kind of place that advertised weekly rates and was also definitely not going to ask for our IDs.
The girl behind the counter barely acknowledged us before sliding a key on a wooden stick in our direction.
“Um, is there any place to get food?” Danny asked. He’d barely eaten during our dinner date.
“There’s ‘buy one get one’ drinks and karaoke across the street. I think the kitchen is still open,” she said in a bored tone.
The bar across the street looked every bit the beach dive that it was. Tiki lights and loud music filled the air around it.
“Should we?” I asked, lighting up at the idea of doing something else for once.
Danny nodded. “I’d follow you anywhere.”
“Yay!” I clapped gleefully.
He grabbed my hand and led me in the direction of the bar. “One sec,” he said, stopping at the jeep and opening the driver’s side door before fishing out a baseball cap.
“Put this on.” He settled it over my hair and I rolled my eyes.
“Why?” I asked, but it was already on my head, smushing my curls.
“You just did a national tour. The last thing we need is someone noticing you.”
I giggled. “You really think I’m going to get recognized in this tiny town? Besides, as Brady has mentioned numerous times, I’m only a C-list star.”
“Brady is a fucking idiot. You’re more famous than you realize, and I’m not risking it,” he said, securing the hat.
He had a point. Why risk it? The last thing we needed right now were some random strangers coming up to us.
Danny held my hand as we looked both ways and raced across the dark road.
Inside, the bar was sticky and the dim lighting along with my disguise—if you could even use that word to describe a simple baseball cap—made it easy to blend in.
Something else that helped immensely was that nearly every patron in the place was over sixty years old.
I hadn’t conferred with marketing recently, but I was pretty sure this crowd wasn’t exactly my target demographic.
“What are you having?” The bartender asked, barely looking at us as he made two drinks behind the bar.
“Two shots of tequila please.”
Danny’s eyes widened. “Wow, living on the wild side.”
“I haven’t been out like this in months. Let me have this.” I hopped up and down, barely able to contain my excitement. I felt like a teenager, finally let loose after months of being grounded.
“Fries, too,” Danny said, and the bartender put in our order.
When the tequilas came. I knocked mine back without wavering. Danny just stared at the second shot. I must have frowned in disappointment because he picked up the glass and sipped it, only finishing about three quarters of the tequila before wincing and setting it back down.
I laughed and he grimaced.
“Aw, you almost got it,” I said, patting his back.
“Here, you finish it. I hate tequila.” The disgust twisting his face just made me laugh harder.
I downed the remainder of his shot before gnawing on the lime wedge, letting the sourness overwhelm the sting of the alcohol. We both settled onto barstools, watching as someone sang a delightfully off-key rendition of Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.
“This is great!” I said excitedly, bopping along and mouthing the lyrics.
“We’ve got to get you out more if this is your standard for great.” Danny kept his hand on my knee. His touch had barely left me since our dramatic getaway.
“I never get to go out anymore. I’m always doing something for the label. An interview. Writing. Performing. This stupid show.” I waved my hand, the tiniest bit of warmth expanding in my chest from the tequila. It was the perfect mini-buzz to heighten my already nearly electric senses.
“You should sign up.” He lifted his chin toward the stage and winked at me.
“I couldn’t.” But could I? It sounded fun to just get up there and sing in a bar that wasn’t that much smaller than the ones I was playing in just a year ago. “What if someone recognizes me?” I frowned, thinking of an actually valid excuse.
Danny shook his head. “Then I’ll be your bodyguard. Besides, this crowd is older than our parents. I doubt they’re up to date on anything pop-culture. You’ve got this.” He tugged the hat tighter on my head.
“Well, if you insist.” I was already climbing off the stool, needing no additional convincing. A clipboard dangled by a string on the wall next to the stage. There were only a few names on it, so I scribbled my own down.
Danny watched me carefully as I made my way back to him.
“Done.” I climbed back onto the stool next to his, but he pulled me onto his lap and nuzzled the side of my neck.
“I can’t wait to hear you sing. You were incredible in the shows I went to.”
My cheeks warmed, and I ducked my head.
“No, seriously, you were amazing. I couldn’t believe how much you transform on stage. It’s like it’s you, but a powerhouse.”
“I like performing. Or at least I used to.”
“You’ll get back to loving it,” he whispered. “The second you start fighting for what you want.”
“I hope so.” I wished I could feel that confident, but it seemed impossible. I was so tangled up in my current reality.
“Hey.” He slipped his arms around my waist, and I looked behind me into his eyes. “You will. You’ll get your spark back, Trace. I promise.”
I leaned into him, and we watched the bar come to life, singing along softly to ourselves. I was very aware of my ass wiggling around in his lap the entire time. Heat pooled in my stomach. I wanted him. Bad.
When the fries came, he started to wolf them down, offering me some.
I said no. I couldn’t even think about food right now.
All I could think about was that hotel room we’d be going back to.
The one without cameras (Well, hopefully.
It was a divey motel after all.) The one that probably only had one bed.
Then I thought about the way Danny kissed me on the beach not even an hour ago, and my insides went all liquid and warm.
“What are you thinking about?” he whispered into my ear.
But before I could answer, my name was called from the clipboard.
“Patricia Anne.”
Danny lifted an eyebrow as the MC read off my legal first and middle name again.
“What?” I whispered. I hated my name, but I didn’t want to use ‘Trace Davis’ here, in case it sparked familiarity with anyone. It seemed unlikely, no one had even spared us a second glance, but I loved this anonymity after weeks of being the center of attention.
“Get up there, Patricia,” he said through a smile.
A few hoots and hollers came from the small audience as I took the stage and held the mic. A nervous flurry of butterflies that I hadn’t felt on a stage in ages flew around in my stomach. I met Danny’s eyes, and I knew exactly why they were there.
The song came on, an old Dolly Parton one I used to love singing; I wanted something a little upbeat and lively. And then I sang, belted it out like I was fourteen again, singing into my hairbrush in my bathroom.
The bar started clapping along with the song, and one couple even got up to dance. I twirled around on stage, laughing through the lyrics as I entered the second verse.
This felt good. Simple. To be on stage with no commitments, no expectations, just because I wanted to be here. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to actually enjoy performing.
When the song ended, I put the mic back in its stand and made my way over to Danny, practically spilling into his arms, my cheeks sore from smiling.
He captured me in a hug and kissed me, deep and slow.
When he pulled away, his mouth moved to the side of my face. His hot breath tickled my ear as he asked, “Want to get out of here?”
“I hope this place doesn’t have bed bugs,” Danny muttered as we climbed the iron steps to the second floor.
I snorted. “I think I’d prefer a bed bug infestation to facing Brady and the consequences of our actions right now.”
“Wonder if they’re still searching for us,” Danny said.
We stopped at room eight, the number carved into our wooden key chain. Danny jiggled the handle for a second before shoving his shoulder against the door and pushing it open.
Shockingly, the inside of the room wasn’t nearly as bad as the exterior. The floors were vinyl and looked recently replaced, and relatively fresh paint brightened the room. The comforter draped over the bed was one of those vintage-looking floral ones. It was almost semi-charming.
“Not half bad,” I said, lifting the comforter and inspecting the mattress. “And not a bed bug in sight.”
Danny scratched the back of his neck, his t-shirt riding up slightly in the process. “I definitely wish I could take you somewhere nicer—”
“Are you kidding?” I laughed. “You literally rescued me tonight, like some misunderstood knight in shining armor. I mean, we literally got into a car chase.”
He smirked. “I hardly think going five over the limit with the other car still sputtering in the parking lot constitutes a car chase.”
“Well, whatever. I’m relieved. I finally felt like myself tonight. It’s been a minute.”
His eyes darkened unexpectedly at that, and he let out a low sound in his throat before squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head.
“What?” I asked, surprised by his reaction.
“Nothing. It’s just…” He sucked in a breath before looking at me again. “I just feel really fucking lucky to be here with you right now.”
His gaze went glossy and—was that a tear?
“Oh my God, Danny.” I jumped up and reached for him, wiping the tear away with my shirt sleeve—well, technically, with his shirt sleeve. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
He ducked out of my reach. “I do not deserve your worry right now.”
“Too bad, because you’re always going to get it.”