Page 61 of The Foul Out

“Sorry, sorry,” the guy said. “Mitchell Houton.” He held out his hand, and, hesitantly, I shook it. “You know Zara Price?” he repeated.

I nodded. “Our kids are friends.”

“Harper,” Zara called from halfway up the steps, catching the attention of half the patrons downstairs. “Where did you get off to?”

People all over the bar edged toward the stairs, realizing she was just a few feet away.

“We’re hogging her. Sorry about that.” Trevor smiled past the two big men who had taken up residence at the bottom of the stairs to stop unwelcome guests from coming toward Zara.

“No worries.” She waved dismissively.

A man in a suit a step behind her whispered in her ear, snagging her attention.

With a nod at him, she turned back to me. “Bring your friends up, Harper,” she called. Then she turned and jogged back up the stairs.

I held back a wince, wishing I could uninvite the guys. But good manners took over, so with a tight smile, I moved up the steps past the two men, with Trevor and Mitch on my heels.

When I hit the top, I headed straight for Zara, who was only a few feet away, as if she was waiting for me. “This is my neighbor Trevor, and his friend Mitch.”

Trevor held out his hand. “Happy birthday,” he said to Zara. “Thanks for letting us up.”

“Any mate of Harper’s is a mate of mine.” She snaked her arm through mine. “You must come. Asher just went for drinks, and Kyle is singing.”

That was Kyle?I’d recognized the Billy Joel song from the stairs, though I hadn’t recognized the voice. As we stepped through the opening in the curtain and into the big room, there he was, mic in hand. The lyrics for “Only the Good Die Young,” one of my favorite songs, poured easily from his lips. He wasn’t even off key.

As if he could sense my presence, he found me immediately, and a smirk lifted his lips. Instantly, butterflies flitted through my stomach, and once again, something that felt like anticipation settled in my chest. But his smirk fell as his gaze moved past me, and he didn’t look back my way.

“He always sings this one. But it still took me forever to work out the meaning of his tattoo.” She led me back to the high-top.

“Tattoo?” I asked, my focus locked on Kyle. He’d rolled the sleeves of his white button-down to his elbows, showing off the tan skin of his forearms.

“I have a feeling you’ll become acquainted with it very soon,” Zara said, her voice full of innuendo.

Before I could refute, Trevor edged in closer and interrupted. “Love your accent.”

“Flirting with my girl?” Asher set two martini glasses filled with some sort of pink drink in front of us, then pushed one my way and hooked the other to his wife.

“Thanks,” I said, giving him a small smile.

He nodded, then shifted his attention to Zara. “Trying to make me jealous, wife?”

“Like you’d ever be jealous.” Zara rolled her eyes, though the expression was full of affection.

Asher cozied up behind her and wrapped his large arm around her tiny waist. “You’re gorgeous, and tonight, everyone sees it. I don’t think I’ll be able to let you out of my arms.”

“That would be a pleasant change.” She smiled, and as he crowded even closer and kissed her bare shoulder, I swore she shuddered.

I had thought they were having issues, but clearly, I was wrong. It was easy to see that Asher was smitten with his wife. And when I looked back to the stage, I found I’d been wrong about Kyle too. His song had ended, and he hadn’t come our way. No, he’d found another group to hang out with. One fullof scantily dressed women. The instant the scene registered, all the anticipation bubbling in my system dissipated, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

I reminded myself again that single moms in their thirties didn’t end up with baseball stars. I was entirely too old to believe in fairy tales.

After the song ended,it had taken everything in me to not slam the mic into the stand and storm across the room so I could chase away Harper’s annoying neighbor. But Asher had been giving me shit about her for two weeks, and that would never end if he had any inkling that I was jealous of some douche bag.

Not that I was jealous. I wasn’t. But Harper deserved someone better than the wannabe surf boy who lived next door.

“Are you even listening to me?” I didn’t know her name, but her voice was too nasally and her perfume was practically choking me. And fuck, if she rubbed against me one more time, scraping my forearm with that damn sequined dress, I might have to walk away.

“Streaks isn’t known for his conversational skills. You know that, Amber,” said the brunette tucked under Cam’s arm. “And we aren’t here to talk.”

---