Page 15 of If Not for My Baby
When I spin, I make direct eye contact with a series of buttons over a strong, broad chest. I crane my neck up.
And up, andup.
Until my gaze lands on Halloran’s eyes. They are the richest green on earth. The green of a lush wood untouched by man. “Hey,” he says coolly, dipping his chin in greeting. “Welcome.”
His voice is smooth like a cloudless night, but there’s a depth to it, too—thunder rumbling just below the surface. Up close his nose is long and masculine, brows thick, jaw strong, though hidden under a close-trimmed beard. You can just tell if he went even one day without shaving it down, he’d look like a Viking.
“Hi,” I reply, thrusting out my hand like he’s some clip-on-tie-wearing store manager. “I’m Clementine.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Right, duh. Conor just said that. “You were incredible up there,” I tell him.
He winces. “Thanks very much.”
“And that crowd. Theyloveyou. You are like a god to them or something.”
“Thank you, really.”
“And your voice, it’s—” I can’t seem to stop myself. “That key change? In ‘Harbinger of’—”
“I’m sorry, Clementine,” he interrupts before pressing his lips together in regret. “I’m going to stop you there. Will you excuse me a moment?”
“Sure,” I try to say, but he’s gone before I utter the word, moving past me and into the bus.
Oh.
My face heats again and this time I know it’s from shame. Why did I fangirl like that? I’m a professional.
No, you’re not,my brain tells me.You’re a twenty-four-year-old waitress from the middle of nowhere.
“Don’t fret over him,” Conor says, pulling out a pack of Marlboro 27s from his back pocket and smacking them against the palm of his hand. “He’s dog-tired and in need of a smoke.”
“Of course. It’s fine.” I smile brightly to convey just how fine it is. I’m here to do a job and provide for my mom and myself, I don’t need to be friends with Halloran.
Conor offers a cheeky smile of his own, exposing the piercing inside his mouth, right above his two front teeth. “Grand so.” With that he moves past me and up the stairs into the bus.
All I need is one soothing inhale of balmy night air to shake off whatever that weird energy was with Halloran before spending six hours on a bus with him. I tell myself I have nothing to be embarrassed about.
“Word to the wise,” Grayson drawls, strolling up to me and placing a hand on my shoulder. “He’s particular about his songs.”
Grayson’s sweaty brown hair’s been pushed back, his Henley buttoned up wrong, and lipstick is smeared into his neck and the grooves of his layered man jewelry. He had time to fool around with someone? The show barely ended thirty minutes ago.
I sidestep, allowing his hand to slip from my body. “What do you mean?”
“Doesn’t even matter. Your voice is so good I doubt anyone cares that you missed those ‘If Not for My Baby’ cues besides him.”
Is Graysonneggingme? Suddenly, I don’t much like his supervillain handsomeness.
“I didn’t miss any cues.”
Grayson winks at me. “Sure you didn’t.”
I’ve never felt such a strong urge to become a cicada and chirp off into the night. I wish my mom was here to talk me down. How could I have messed up my first show? And thenlied about itlike a defensive idiot?
And with Halloran…Why was that so…so—
“Clementine!”
