Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
EMERSON
Having deposited a beaming Faith with the bar’s owner, Riley, Ford sets about buying a round of drinks as Sully helps the rest of us find good seats right up front, just off to the right of the stage.
Several tables surrounding us feature familiar faces as the ranch crew from Whispering Willows have joined us in support of Lissie. Sully takes his time, moving between each of them, thanking them individually for coming while Lissie’s cheeks heat to a fiery red as she realizes there’s an even bigger crowd present than she initially anticipated.
“And next up, we have…”
The host of the open mic night is a pretty girl no older than Lissie. She confidently works the audience, announcing the next singer as Ford returns from the bar with a cooler filled with bottles of Lone Star beers and a margarita each for Lissie and me.
“Grab a beer, Sully. We can grab a ride home with one of the guys.”
Sully declines with a polite shake of his head. “Nah, I’ll drive. Prefer water anyway.”
“No problem.” Ford shrugs, turning to Lissie with a lopsided grin. “I’ve added your name to the list.”
He sits down beside me, and poor Lissie’s face pales at the news. I clasp her jittery hand in mine, squeezing lightly as she takes a healthy sip of her cocktail. Then I chuckle as I follow suit before Law grabs a beer, declaring, “I think I’ll put my name down, too.” Wiggling his eyebrows, he shoots me and Lissie a wink that I know is meant to distract her. “For shits and giggles.”
Ford grabs his own beer and clinks it against my cocktail glass with a smirk. “That damn guy.”
I can’t help but laugh, closing the distance between us to press a kiss to his lips, but he holds me firm, deepening the kiss until I’m breathless. Once I’m thoroughly leaning against him, absorbed in the actions of his mouth on mine, he tilts back with a self-satisfied smirk and the promise of more gleaming in his eyes.
When I move away, giving him a pouty lower lip that makes him chuckle, I notice a group at the table nearby is pointedly staring at us, and it takes me a beat to realize they must recognize me.
“ Shit .”
Just because I’m not presently in the glamorous world of movie premieres and gala events doesn’t mean the open mic night attendees won’t know who I am.
Or who I’m supposedly dating.
Ford follows my line of vision, pulling me closer to kiss me chastely this time, centering me when he palms my cheeks. “I’d forgotten all about the fake-dating situation until the asshat rocked up to the ranch this morning. But rest assured, I have Hayley working on a press release as we speak. It’s why Lawson and I were delayed leaving the house tonight. We were working through the particulars with both sets of PR people.”
My shoulders sag with relief. I hate the idea of lying to my fans even more now than I did when Beck suggested the fake relationship, but knowing that Ford is already on top of making things right again is like a balm to the anxiety rippling through me.
“Thank you.”
He pecks my lips, and I grin, entirely too pleased at the way he’s showing affection so openly. “You’re welcome, baby.”
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
We break apart, glancing behind us to find Sutton and Jesse North smirking broadly. Both men are dressed similarly in all-black attire, and Sutton has even donned a matching cowboy hat for the occasion. Jesse’s shoulder-length hair is messily disheveled and the man is simply oozing a self-confidence that has groups of women at nearby tables fanning themselves openly.
His shit-eating smirk tells me he damn well knows it too.
Ford rises from his seat, hugging first Sutton and then Jesse with a smile to match theirs across his own face. “It's great seeing you two. Grab a seat and sit with us. The more, the merrier.”
Jesse grabs two chairs from neighboring tables as Sutton drops his hat onto the table between us.
“I’d like y’all to meet two very good friends of mine. Sutton?—”
Sutton holds up a hand, his dark eyes moving over each individual present with a kind smile.
“And Jesse North.”
“Good to meet you all.”
Everyone murmurs their welcome as the singer on stage wraps up their version of “Ring of Fire” by Johnny Cash to raucous applause.
Jesse shoots me a wink as he lowers himself into his chair on the other side of Ford. “Still waiting on that call, sweetheart.”
I can feel my cheeks heat even as I shake my head before Ford elbows the younger man playfully. “Ain’t you too young to be here? Don’t make me call your mom, kid.”
Jesse raises his hands in a surrender motion, his eyes widening hilariously. “Christ, Holloway, there's no need to take it to the extreme. I was just kidding.”
Sutton leans across the table from his place on the other side of Lissie, quirking a bushy salt-and-pepper brow. “My daughter-in-law wears the pants, too.”
I’m still chuckling when Ford slips his hand into mine just as the host announces, “And next up, we have Felicity Holloway.”
Lissie stiffens beside me before shaking her head as she raises terrified eyes to Ford, whispering in a choked voice, “I can’t do it.”
The host speaks again, louder this time, as her eyes scan the crowd. “Where are you, Felicity Holloway? Come on up!”
I can see a cold sweat beading Lissie’s brow, and my own stomach churns with anxiety on her behalf. I’m on the cusp of speaking up, still unsure of what I can say to encourage her to face her fears, when Sutton pats Lissie’s knee.
“I have an idea.” His tone is cajoling, and his eyes twinkle when Lissie meets his gaze. After a beat, she nods hesitantly for him to continue. "How about one of us go up there and show you how it’s done? Would that help?”
She shrugs subtly, tucking her long, poker-straight blonde hair behind her ear. “I dunno…you guys are used to being in the spotlight…”
As she trails off, Sutton looks at me, mischievousness dancing in his eyes before he proclaims, “Ford, go on up there and show your sister she’s got nothing to be afraid of.”
Jesse sniggers when Ford arches a skeptical brow, and Sully bursts out laughing as Law slips into the spare seat beside Sutton.
“What did I miss?”
No one acknowledges him, though, as Ford and Sutton continue to stare at one another. A seemingly silent exchange happens right before our eyes until Ford slowly rises from his seat and shifts his gaze to an open-mouthed Lissie.
“I can encourage you to chase that dream, Lissie. And I can keep sayin’ those things…tellin’ you the truth of the matter until I’m blue in the face. Because they’re just words until you believe them. So the only thing I can do now is lead by example…because actions speak louder’n words.”
He pivots to face me, leaning down to press a kiss to my brow before drawing back enough to spear me with his gaze. I blink owlishly several times, barely managing to squeeze out a question. “But, you don’t sing, do you?”
His mouth quirks upward, devilment dancing in his eyes as he winks. “I might just have a few surprises up my sleeves, baby.”
Without another word, he strides toward the stage, his broad steps covering the ground with ease as the surrounding crowd cheers loudly.
Lissie and I exchange a look as Sully whistles through his teeth. “I am so damn happy I came tonight.” He shrugs when everyone looks at him. “I mean, I have never , in my twenty-some years of knowin’ that man, seen him willingly step into the limelight. So yeah…I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it with my own two eyes.”
His words apparently resonate with Lissie, and with a slight determined tilt of her chin, she looks back up at the stage.
“Ah…change of plan, folks…” The host exchanges a handful of words with Ford before announcing, “We’ll hear from Felicity in a little bit, y’all. This is Ford. Give him a warm Rebels welcome.”
As the gathered crowd claps and catcalls, Ford snags an acoustic guitar from one of the band members. They converse lowly for a moment as he loops it over his head with practiced ease before settling on a stool while the rest of the band take their places.
Ford leans closer to the microphone before him, strumming a couple of notes as he tunes the strings to his liking. He looks out over the audience, a smirk on his handsome face that’s entirely reminiscent of the cat who got the cream.
“Thank you.”
His baritone voice is rich and deep, and I’m giddy with anticipation. I’ve heard him play his guitar a million and one times, and though he’s never sung along, I’m filled with the absolute certainty that his singing voice is pure poetry.
Because Ford Holloway gives nothing less than his whole self in everything he does.
His gaze clashes with mine, holding me captive with an intensity I can feel down to my marrow. As he croons the opening words of the Teddy Swims fan favorite, “Lose Control,” goosebumps scatter across my entire body. His tone is pitch-perfect, deep and throaty, with a huskiness that makes arousal pool deliciously in my stomach while the raw hunger in his eyes sets my blood aflame.
I’m aware of the crowd around us, watching as Ford performs, but it’s as though we are the only two people in the entire place, his words and the yearning held within them solely for me and me alone.
Without conscious thought, I rise to my feet and step around the table to move through the busy dancefloor until I’m directly before the stage, without once breaking eye contact.
Ford sings the last lines of the song, drawing out the final note until his voice breaks. The gathered crowd goes berserk, with chants howling for more, but Ford only has eyes for me.
He shucks the guitar, blindly passing it to whoever’s hand is outstretched to reclaim it before he jumps off the stage and scoops me into his arms. His hands tangle in my hair, gripping fistfuls as he angles my mouth to where he needs it to be, and when he slides his tongue past my lips, I moan shamelessly, making him grip me even tighter.
I’m vaguely aware of the host thanking Ford in a laughter-filled voice as the assembled crowd hoots their approval when he tears his mouth from mine. The need in his ocean-blue eyes almost makes my knees buckle when he deposits me back on the ground to grab my hand. His urgent gaze doesn’t waver as he pulls me past the stage, around the bar, and through the doors leading inside.
It’s as big as Lissie said it would be, but I don’t take a moment to appreciate any of it as our feet propel us through the space. Ford swings a sudden left, taking us down a corridor and pushing open a door labeled “Staff Only.”
As he deadbolts it behind us, I realize we’re in the staff restroom, and my eyes catch Ford’s in the mirror. His pupils are so blown that there’s hardly any iris visible whatsoever, and the desire contained in his gaze is like a lightning bolt as shock waves course through my entire body.
And when he speaks, his guttural rasp sends a ripple of lust straight to my core.
“Down on your knees, Tink.”