Page 72 of The Sounds of Her

She’s still wearing the pretty pink summer dress. With no bra. Eyes up, I whisper inside my head and keep them locked on hers. She’s staring straight back at me, too. Time stretches on and we’re just staring at one another.

“Have you had fun?” I ask, to break whatever that is.

“We have. We went to an escape room and axe throwing.”

My brows pop up. I assumed they went for an afternoon of drinking, or spa treatments, from the way Jordan framed it earlier.

“Axe throwing?” I laugh.

“Well, some of us,” Brooke lifts her glass and Jenna boos at her. Brooke laughs, and it sounds so carefree. I find myself smiling. “Jenna had to be asked to stop.”

“What?” Adam looks up. “Seriously Slugger, you can’t throw an axe?”

“I have shitty aim.”

“Did you hit a person?” Jordan laughs.

“Of course not. It’s very safe. You are on your own in the lane, like at a gun range, with barriers,” she tells us all. “I kept ….” she mumbles. Even Adam leans in, but he shrugs, not hearing her.

“What was that, Montanari?” I ask with a grin.

“Mathews,” Adam growls.

“I keep forgetting.” I wave a hand.

“Forgetting we just got married last week,” Adam gapes and I roll my eyes.

“Throwing them backwards,” Jenna says to prevent any arguments from breaking out.

Everyone laughs and they tell us all about their eventful afternoon. Elsa won the axe throwing, but the girls all agree they never would have made it out of the escape room without Brooke. She gives herself a pat on the shoulder.

The rest of the night passes with a lot of laughter. Everyone is relaxed. It’s a night off and we’re all glad of it. The food is great and although we’ve not been put in a private room, there are no occupied tables in the quarter we’re sitting in. People have been looking over for most of the night though.

As we leave, we agree to some photos and autographs, then head outside to the waiting cars. Once we’re back at the hotel, everyone heads toward the elevators, but Brooke pauses.

“What?” I ask, noting DiMarco has stopped too.

“I don’t feel like going up yet. Can you come to the bar or am I okay going alone?”

“You’re not going alone,” I tell her.

Not a chance. And not because people know she’s with the band, I don’t want her going anywhere alone. Why does she want to go to the bar, anyway? I give DiMarco a nod and having heard Brooke’s question, he goes off to check it.

“Is it always like this, having every place checked before you’re allowed in?”

“Comes with the territory.”

Everyone else has gone by the time DiMarco returns and indicates its fine to go in. I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans and thank him following Brooke inside. I’m not that tired either, and it’s better for my sanity to not go straight back up to the room with her.

The lighting is dim inside and there are booths and tables spread far enough part to seem private. The bar runs along the left side with a couple of servers in black uniforms. A man sits on a stool at the bar, and a lone woman is right at the end, toying with the straw in her drink, giving the man a sultry look.

Brooke heads to the secluded booth in the corner, where DiMarco has indicated he’s happy for us to sit. He slips out of the bar. He won’t go far. I slide in beside Brooke and a server comes over. She looks at the menu while I order a beer. Decided, she asks for a Manhattan.

“Missing home?” I grin as the server looks at me a little longer than would be classed as normal. I smile and she blushes, then walks away.

“It’s better than drinking straight up bourbon,” she replies, watching the woman heading back to the bar.

“You don’t strike me as a bourbon drinker. Isn’t tequila more your speed.”

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