Page 7 of The Love Wager

I should definitely be getting paid for this.

When the chorus hits, I jump down, taking my gig on the move. The girls around the room are singing back up, and when I put the microphone in Butch’s face, he has the good sense to join in.

Everyone’s having a blast; this might just be the easiest eight points of the night.

Repeating the last few lines, the music fades. I’m breathless, but full of joy. Ready to pick another song and do it all again, just for the hell of it. But before I can finish on a high note, my new favorite toy is ripped from my hands.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing now?”

If a DJ had been playing my music, he would have scratched the vinyl to quiet my audience. But here I am, once again, facing down the man who kills the party.

“Jesus, what’s your problem? I’m not on yourpreciousbar. I’m just offering the place a little entertainment for the night. Literally, no one is complaining.”

A firm grip tightens around my upper arm. “Shows over, folks,” he barks out, dragging me back to my table.

Taylor’s grinning from ear to ear when I’m deposited at her feet. “That was totally worth the eight points. Don’t you think?” she asks my captor.

“I think that’s enough for tonight, Taylor. Stop letting your friend make a scene in my bar, or I’m booting the lot of you.”

“But Brooksie, it’s my bachelorette party. You wouldn’t do that to me!” she whines.

“Wait,” I interrupt their friendly banter, “you know this prick?”

Now, my best friend has the good sense to look sheepish. “Indie, this is Brooks, one of Spencer’s groomsmen.”

My gaze flicks back and forth between the two.

I’ve been betrayed.

“Oh, fuck no. I don’t want to spend the next week with him.”

“Don’t worry; the feeling’s mutual,” he grumbles. “Last warning, Tay. I love you, but that one’s caused enough issues tonight.” He juts his thumb toward me.

“Oh, my God! You know no one complained about me. Get the stick out of your ass and have a little fun. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so fucking uptight.”

Tay slaps my shoulder, and I worry for a minute that I might have overstepped. However, this time, he doesn’t respond.

He stomps away in his worn cowboy boots. Those tight Wranglers hugging his ass—wait, why am I staring at his ass? I jerk my eyes back to Taylor, but she knows exactly where my eyes lingered.

“Don’t,” I hold my index finger out to her, “any woman would appreciate an ass like that.”

“Mhm. Whatever you say. But maybe it’s time we call it a night for you.”

“What? How is that fair? I still need more points to win,” I say, exasperated.

Why is she letting this guy ruin our night?

“You’re already in the lead. I doubt anyone will top you in the next hour. No, wait, it’s only forty-five minutes,” she corrects, trying to do the math as she stares at her watch in her inebriated haze.

“Fine. I’ll sit with you, but if anyone else gets close, I’ll get another card.”

“I’ll allow it.”

Tumbling back into the booth, we chat about the crazy schedule of the coming week. There’s a final fitting for her dress at the bridal boutique and nail appointments for the entire bridal party. The best way to ensure everyone adheres to the theme of your wedding is to control everything from their hairstyle and makeup down to the color of their mani-pedis. We have dance lessons, the venue walkthrough, and the rehearsal dinner, all before we get to the big day.

“Here!” Missy shouts, dangling a piece of fabric over the table, scaring us.

“What is that?”

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