Page 120 of Fire and Icing

Cody points to himself and then Patrick and Greyson.

“His other guests,” Miles clarifies.

“Ahhh. Oh. Okay,” Patrick says.

Cody shouts over to me, “I see how it is, Rookie. Saving seats for your girl and not the guys who have your back in every fire?”

“Misters over sisters …” Patrick shouts.

“She’s not his sister,” Greyson says.

“I know that,” Patrick says.

“Follow me,” Miles tells them. He turns to Ginny. “Don’t worry about these three. Jerry will be here in a half hour. If there’s trouble, he’ll bounce them.”

I laugh out loud at the idea of my crew getting tossed out by a bouncer.

Miles signals to his wait staff and two guys in black T-shirts with the words “Fork & Fiddle” on the chest lift one of the smaller tables and a few chairs and set it down in front of the stage so my unruly friends can have their seating of choice.

My friends. Yeah. I like that, even if they are acting obnoxious tonight.

The door swings open and Emberleigh steps inside wearing a green dress and cowboy boots. Her red hair is curled and falling loosely around her face. And she’s got this red lipstick on. Her eyes have something too—they look huge and beautiful. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her get dressed up. I nearly swallow my tongue.

The three stooges turn their heads in unison and Cody lets out a low whistle. “Wow, Emberleigh. Looking good.”

Mine. Something primal in me growls from within my soul. I don’t have to worry though, because she’s not looking at Cody, she’s staring straight at me as she walks into the room. Ginny greets her and her friends. The four of them follow Ginny to the picnic table.

I cover the mic and lean away from it. “Hey, Firecracker.”

“Hi.” She smiles shyly at me, as if she’s as nervous as I am.

“You look amazing,” I say.

“Thanks. You do too.”

“Aww,” her friend, one of the ones that was at the book club meeting, says. “You two are adorable.”

“Aren’t they, though?” Syd says with a smile.

The house lights start to dim and the stage lights turn on. Miles comes up and takes the mic.

“Hey, everyone. Welcome out. We’re so glad to have y’all at Fork & Fiddle for another Saturday night of good food, good friends and good music.”

The people shout out comments and cheer. It’s the kind of familiarity only found in a group of people who know Miles and one another well.

Miles points toward me. “I don’t know if you’ve had the pleasure of meeting the rookie at Station One yet, but this here is Dustin. He’s going to play us a little guitar and sing for us. You go ahead and order. Our servers will be making the rounds. And I highly recommend the strawberry shortcake. The berries are sweet as a smile from a southern girl. And the shortcake tastes like your memaw made it.”

Someone shouts, “Not my memaw! She couldn’t bake a shortcake to save her life.”

Someone else shouts. “Show some respect, Buckshot!”

Someone else shouts, “He’s not lyin’, that shortcake went down like a brick.”

The room erupts in laughter.

“Okay,” Miles says, “My memaw, rest her soul. The shortcake’s as good as my memaw’s. Now do y’all want to have a shortcake showdown or should we let Dustin sing us some songs?”

Everyone shouts that they want me to sing, so I grab my guitar, thank Miles and take the mic.

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