Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Blaire
Barridge Stadium is boisterous.
Throngs of people are packed into the baseball stadium. Chords of music play intermittently over the speakers set up on either side of the stage in the outfield. A giant screen, black for the time being, is stretched out behind the platform that Kelvin McCoy will take in a matter of minutes.
Holt leads me down the aisle toward a baseball field that’s been turned into a country music concert. I dodge elbows from inebriated attendees and dirty looks from women who see Holt first, only to realize that I’m right behind him.
He looks and smells incredible. How a man can look this good after working for twelve hours—or more—is beyond me.
His ass fills out the back of his tan dress pants. Broad shoulders stretch the fabric of his blue and white striped shirt. The collar is undone, and his tie is missing, and I can’t imagine how women get any work done around him all day.
I’m watching him and not where I’m going when a foot juts out in front of me from the side. The edge of my heel catches on it, and I plummet forward.
“Ah,” I squeak as I slam into Holt’s back.
He turns, surprised, and quickly wraps one arm around me.
I look up to find him searching the area around me.
“What happened?” he asks. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
His eyes find mine, and he grins. “Well, pay attention before I get into a fight.”
My skin burns with the intensity of his gaze. It’s almost electric tonight.
Our conversation on the way over was friendly and fun. He gave me crap about my love for Kelvin McCoy and Beau McCrae, a country music singer who’d just finished his set. I teased him about being jealous. Despite the airy banter, something was different.
I felt it. I think Holt did too.
My brain told me it was because I put it into the universe that I would consider something more serious with him.
I’m seeing things I want to see. But then he brushes his hand against mine or dips his fingers into the small of my back, and I swear I feel an intimacy to his touch that I haven’t felt before.
“Don’t get into a fight until after we watch Kelvin McCoy,” I tell him. “I don’t want to be thrown out of here too soon.”
His grin turns mischievous. “What do you like about him so much?”
It’s a simple question that has an easy answer. But it’s hard to think about anyone else while my body is pressed into Holt’s. Despite being in a stadium full of people, it feels like just the two of us.
I bite my lip. “His voice is dreamy.”
Holt rolls his eyes. “He sounds like a cocky teenager.”
I slap his chest and ignore the way it doesn’t give. It only makes it worse that I know how spectacular it is undressed.
“Let’s get to our seats before you miss the show,” he says.
He sets me back on both of my feet. But before he turns around, he grabs my hand.
My eyes flip to his. He looks as surprised as I feel.
“Just so you don’t fall again,” he mumbles.
“Right.”
His hand is large and warm. His grip is sturdy and reliable, just like I know him to be.
Don’t get swept up in this.
I ignore the legions of music fans on either side of the walkway. I block out the way my hand tingles from being tucked into Holt’s. I do my best to activate my guard and not read too much into anything—but it’s difficult.
It feels so natural.
Holt shows a uniformed man our tickets before we descend the last few steps. The man nods as I pass.
We stop at the bottom row. The only people closer to the stage are the people standing on the field.
“Oh, wow,” I say. “How did you get these tickets? They’re fantastic.”
He drops my hand and runs his through his hair. “Connections, I guess.”
“You must have some good connections.”
“You could say that.” He looks over my shoulder. “Whatever is said tonight, please understand I have no control over them.”
I furrow my brow. “What? Who? What are you talking about?”
I’m not sure if he’s going to laugh or wince. Either way, he slips by me and into the row of seats. I follow along and sit in the empty seat next to him.
“We didn’t think you were coming,” a familiar voice says from the other side of him.
I peer down the aisle.
The man I met at the Landrys’ the first night I met Holt—Oliver, I think it was, sits beside Holt.
A young woman with gorgeous blond hair is seated next to him.
Two men who are variations of Holt and Oliver smile back at me from the other side of the girl.
An older man and woman sit at the end. The woman looks regal in an approachable way with her large pieces of jewelry and plain black T-shirt.
The man is dressed like Holt and has the same warm smile.
“You brought her,” the woman says, clearly thrilled to see me.
My cheeks heat as I take in this … situation.
These people are his family.
My attention shifts away from the curious faces to the man who brought me here.
Holt looks at me and forces a swallow. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. The look on his face is half-smile, half-wince as he tries to read the look on mine.
I lift a brow and try not to look as shocked as I feel.
“I should’ve warned you, huh?” he asks.
“Maybe a word or two would’ve been kind.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Sorry?”
That does it. I can’t be irritated with him when he looks at me with a mixture of adorableness and heat. It dissolves my anxiety and confusion and leaves me laughing.
He turns to his family. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Blaire Gibson. Blaire, this is Oliver, Larissa—our cousin—Boone, and Wade. At the end is our mother and father, Siggy and Rodney.”
“Darling, it is such a pleasure to meet you,” Siggy coos. “I’m sorry I’m so far away. I’d love to welcome you with a big hug!”
“Oh, a wave will do,” I say, giving her my best smile and thanking the heavens I don’t have to hug her.
Hugs are awkward and not all that enjoyable if you’re meeting a stranger for the first time. They’re reserved for people you know and like. And while I’m sure she’s lovely, a hug seems a little overkill.
Holt chuckles beside me.
“We’re glad you could make it, Blaire,” Rodney says.
“I’m happy to be here.”
“We’re happy you’re here too.” Larissa sticks a hand across Oliver. “You can call me Riss.”
I give her hand a gentle shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”
My shoulders relax as I take in Larissa’s genuine friendliness. I wasn’t expecting it, but maybe I should have.
She’s about Sienna’s age and is as cute as a button. She has the same disarming way about her as Sienna too.
I instantly like her, which is weird for me.
“I’d shake your hand, Blaire, but—” Boone begins, but Holt cuts him off.
“But I’d kick your ass.”
“Oh, the hell you would.”
The entire family laughs except for their parents. They’re engrossed in a conversation with a couple sitting behind them.
I try to ignore the way my heart hiccups as Holt takes my hand again. I’m not even sure he realizes that he’s done it, but I’m sure as heck not going to pull it away.
“I think Holt would take you, Boone,” Wade says. He takes off his black-rimmed glasses and looks at his younger brother. “You don’t have a whole lot going for you besides a lot of mouth.”
“What?” Boone’s jaw drops. “You’re supposed to be on my side here, fucker.”
“Everyone’s money is on Holt,” Oliver says. “Shut up, Boone.”
Boone looks at me with the biggest puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen. It’s ridiculously adorable.
“You know what?” I say with a laugh. “It doesn’t matter because we can’t reach each other to shake hands anyway.”
“They’re always like this,” Larissa says. “They’re a lot to deal with.”
“I have three brothers and two boy cousins that are a lot to deal with too,” I say. “This doesn’t bother me.”
“You should see it when Coy is around. It gets ridiculous,” she says.
“He must be like my cousin Peck. The instigator.”
“Totally.” She laughs. “He threatened to have me come on stage tonight and dance. I told him I will flat-out refuse and ruin his show.”
Ruin his show?
I don’t know exactly what my face does, but Larissa balks.
“Oops,” she groans.
“I …” I look at Holt, who is pointedly not looking at me. “Do you want to explain why your brother would ask your cousin to come on stage?”
Holt bites his bottom lip. The lines around his eyes crinkle, making him look more like his father.
My heartbeat quickens.
He doesn’t say a word. Just works hard not to smile.
“Fine.” I peer around him again. “Larissa, why would your cousin Coy ask you to come on stage tonight?”
She looks at Holt. Then at me. Then at Holt again.
“Hey, kids,” Siggy calls from the other end of the aisle. “I forgot to tell you. Coy has to leave town earlier than expected tomorrow. Can you all come at ten for brunch instead? I know you all have lives and things, but it would mean a lot to have you all at home for a quick meal.”
Oh my God.
They all turn to their mother except Holt. I think he’s too afraid to look away from me.
“So, Kelvin McCoy is my brother,” Holt tells me.
“What?”
I put it all together before this, but to hear it out of his mouth is insane. My brain chooses this exact moment to replay all the things I’ve said about the band and the music and …
Shit.
“You jerk,” I say, my brain still processing all this.
I’m not mad about this, just shocked. It’s kind of funny that I didn’t know because everyone probably does.
Everyone but me.
Damn him.
Holt grins like the cat that caught the canary.
“His name is Coy Kelvin Mason,” he says. “He goes by Kelvin McCoy, which is also the name of the band—which is weird to me, but I’m not in charge.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I’m so embarrassed.”
Holt’s body rumbles beside me.
“I mean it,” I tell him. “Why did you let me go on and on about him?”
“It was funny.”
“It’s totally not funny at all,” I say with a laugh.
He lifts my chin with his finger, and I open my eyes. He’s peering into my face with a sweet sincerity that makes my stomach flip-flop.
“Maybe I should’ve told you,” he says softly. “But it was adorable that you didn’t know. Besides, if I told you, I wouldn’t have anything to tease you about.”
I study him. His eyes are sweet and concerned yet have the hint of trouble that I love so much. His thumb brushes over my knuckles.
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “Just know that I might’ve chosen my words differently had I known he was your brother.”
“I know. Which is why I didn’t tell you. I wanted the truth.”
I grin. “I would’ve given you the truth either way. I just might’ve selected different details to share.”
He turns his body so that he’s only facing me. “Is that so?”
I nod. “I might’ve told you that his voice is sweet like honey and puts me in the mood to …” I lean closer. “Do things to you when we’re not surrounded by his adoring fans.”
Holt’s eyes sparkle. “Keep it up, sweetheart, and you’ll miss the show.”
“Only if you can put on a better one.”
His lips part to say something when Oliver elbows him in the side.
“Don’t worry about calling Wade—” Oliver says.
“Shit.” Holt whirls around to face his brothers. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”
“Oliver called me anyway, and we worked it out,” Wade says. “I have a solution. Never fear …”
His voice drifts off as the lights fade, and music begins to play.
The crowd roars to life. The giant black screen behind the stage turns on, and the words Kelvin McCoy flash in green.
I settle back in my seat, but not before Holt leans over the armrest. With his mouth hovering over the shell of my ear, he whispers, “I will give you a show tonight that you won’t forget.”
My skin erupts in goose bumps as I look at him. His eyes are hooded. His lips damp. His cologne chooses this moment to trickle through the air and attack my senses.
“Promise?” I ask.
It’s all I can say. One word is my max.
Holt’s grin turns devilish before the lights fade to black, and Kelvin McCoy comes on stage. Anything either of us would say would be deadened by the noise filling Barridge Stadium.
Instead of talking, I rest my shoulder against Holt’s. He rests our locked hands on my thigh. And as I listen to the opening lines of Kelvin McCoy’s hit song, “Backroads,” I wonder if maybe it’s not wrong to have a little hope that things might work out.
Crazier things have happened in life.
Right?