Page 21 of Recklessly, Wildly Yours

“You haven’t heard of John Mayer?”

She looks at me. “LOL. Everyone’s heard of John Mayer, Ethan.”

“Jesus, you speak in acronyms. We may have just encountered our first bump in the road.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone speaks in acronyms.”

“I don’t.”

“How boring your life must be.”

I can’t help the lift of my lips at her banter. It’s been far too long since I’ve done this with a woman. “Should I anticipate a fuckload of googling just so I can keep up with you?”

“I mean, how fast are those thumbs of yours, grandpa?”

I lift my chin at her. “How about you start adding some songs to our list?”

“In the time you’ve grumbled about not wanting to be dragged into the twenty-first century, I’ve already added five songs. Would you like to hear the second one?”

“John Mayer made it to first spot?”

“Well, I don’t know about the first spot. We’ll need to add all the songs and then rearrange them into order. And let me give you a heads up, Grandpa Ethan doesn’t get the final say on our number one song. God knows, you’d probably choose some old-timer song no one’s ever heard of.”

“All I heard just then was that we’ll be rearranging the list after we’ve compiled it and I agree with this method.”

“Oh, so you’re deaf as well as stuck in your ways?”

I grin at her. “Just play the damn song.”

She laughs right before Tom Cochrane singing “Life Is A Highway” blares from the speakers.

Maddie’s choice both surprises and impresses me. I’d expected country, but I should have known the unexpected was likely from her. And then, fuck me, she starts singing and every thought in my head is stripped away.

Maddie’s voice is liquid gold. Rich and velvety with a hint of raw vulnerability that adds depth to every lyric. It holds me captive without effort.

When I don’t join in on the singing, she stops and says, “Don’t tell me you have a no-singing rule on road trips. That really would be boring.”

“That’s your singing voice?”

She half laughs, half frowns at me. “Huh?”

“Is that the voice you sing on stage with?”

Her frown deepens as she inspects me like I’ve grown a second head. “How many singing voices do you have?”

“Fuck, ignore me. I’ve just never heard a voice like yours.”

Her face smooths into understanding. I imagine she must have this starstruck experience often. “Right, so singing is allowed then?”

“Sing as much as you want.”

“Will we be duetting?”

“I’m not a man who has a road trip playlist that doesn’t get belted out, so yes, we’ll be duetting.”

Her smile is pure beauty. “Thank god for that. Do you want to hear the third song?”

“Play them all for me and feel free to give me a running commentary as to why you choose each song.”

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