Page 13 of Whiskey Lullaby
The last notes of the song faded, and I adjusted the guitar in my lap. Drunk people bumped into each other, spilling their drinks all over theplace.
Someone shouted: “Sing Sweet HomeAlabama!”
I laughed into the mic. “Now, y’all aren’t drunk enough for that shityet.”
Half the bar raised their drinks into the air and hooted. The girls at the front of the stage grinned, batting their eyes. I strummed over the chords, debating which song to play next, and somehow, I happened to catch two girls walk in. The blonde turned toward the stage and I immediately recognized her. Meg McKinney. One of the girls Trevor kept on call. He told me if I ever needed an easy lay, he was more than happy to give her number to me. Ideclined.
My gaze drifted to the girl beside her—I’ll be damned.I squinted at the brunette wearing the sundress and cowgirl boots. Sure enough, she was the pretty girl from the church.Maybe I had her all wrong. Hell, if she’s with Meg, maybe she’s not too good forme.
I plucked out a few notes while I watched her cross the bar. Meg said something to her and she smiled.Damn. That smile.I strummed a chord. “How about,” I cleared my throat, and she glanced up at the stage. “How about ‘I Met a Girl’?” I said, smiling. That song seemed appropriate, and I hoped it would make herswoon.
The girls at the front of the stage squealed when I played the first few beats even though I was paying no attention to them. I was too focused on the brunette in the loose-fitting sundress that left everything to the imagination. She swayed in beat with the music, and God, she was the epitome of innocence, like a heartbroken girl in a country music video.What the hell is she doing withMeg?
When I finished the song, I propped my guitar against the brick wall and hopped down from the stage. I didn’t even take three steps before some random girl shoved a shot glass at me. The scent of cheap vodka blew across my face when she leaned in to my ear. “Your voice is amazing,” she whispered, kissing my cheek. She wobbled, struggling to stand up straight. Girls like that were easy, and, on most nights, I preferred a challenge. A chase. Someone that looked too innocent to be with the likes ofme.
I thanked the hopeful fuck for the drink and excused myself, making my way to the table the girl in the sundress was sitting at.Alone.
Smoothing my hand over my shirt, I stopped next to thebooth.
“Hope you liked the song,” I said. “I’m Noah.” I held out my hand and smiled, hoping my dimples would pop. For some reason, the dimples always seemed towork.
Her gaze fell to my waiting palm. The faintest smirk curled her pink lips and there was a moment where I thought she may tell me to fuckoff.
“Hannah,” she said. “And if you’re trying to come over here to sweet talk me into sleeping with you, it’s not going to happen…” She nodded to the bar. “I’m not one ofthem.”
And first punch thrown.I turned to look at the group of women staring, whispering, then I placed my palm to my chest, feigning a frown. “I’m offended you’d think so little ofme.”
“Mmhmm.”
“What are you drinking?” I asked, tapping the rim of herglass.
“Coke.”
“Huh, I had you pegged for one of those girls who liked frou-froudrinks.”
Most girls would have laughed at that. Not Hannah. She subtly cocked a brow, glaring at me with her big brown eyes. There was something deep about her eyes. Something that threatened to suck me into a black hole—and did. “So, Hannah, why is a pretty girl like you sitting all alone at a bar?” I knew it was lame, but sometimes a lame-ass line was the best thing to throw at a girl. Besides, I was never above a mercyfuck.
“Wow,” she laughed. “Is that the best line youhave?”
My cheeks heated and just as I opened my mouth to defend myself, an annoyed groan floated over myshoulder.
“Jesus, the line to the women’s roomis—”
I slowly turned around to find Meg right behind me, glaring. “Oh God,” she mumbled as she rolled her eyes and shoved me out of the way. “Of course, I walk off andhecomes over.” She sunk into the booth, took a sip of her drink, and glared atme.
Of course she was going to try and start some shit. My jaw ticked. “Haven’t seen you at Trevor’s in a while.” I shot a smart-ass grin ather.
“Hannah,whyis Noah Greyson sitting with you? Did we not talk aboutthis?”
“Meg,” Hannah groaned. “Just drink your Fireball andhush.”
I laughed because I knew nothing worth a damn would have come from Meg’s mouth. “And just what did you talkabout?”
“About how you’re not good enough for my friend here.” She smirked before slamming most of her drinkback.
“Meg,” Hannah growled, moving around in the booth like she had a rat crawling up her leg. “Benice.”
“Ow!” Meg said. My guess was that Hannah had kicked her under the table. And that was my kind of girl. “Whatever, like I said, he may be pretty”—she pointed at me—“but he’s bad news. Bad boy with a badreputation.”
