Page 106 of Need You Now

Standing on a small corner of the stage, Seth tunes his fiddle as Luke steps up to the mic, telling a story in his languid drawl about the last time they played at the Silver Dollar Saloon, and thanking the audience for being great as always.

“I don’t know if you can handle this,” Beau says from Seth’s right. His eyes gleam. “Especially since I’ve been kickin’ ass as the Brothers Kincaid’s new fiddle player.”

Seth rolls his eyes. The guy’s arrogant and an asshole. A combination that annoys him to no end. Listening to this jackass talk makes Seth want to punch himself in the face.

He blows out a breath and focuses on his fiddle. Ignores Beau. He’s pissed they’re stuck with this guy—the Debbie Downer of the hour. Pissing off Luke, harassing the girls, talking bullshit. He’s trying not to let Beau get to him, but it’s damn hard.

A wolf whistle from Beau. “Ooh boy, get a load of this.”

Seth’s spine locks up when he sees where Beau’s gaze is lasered. Lacey. Her long, tan legs. She’s leaving the bar with Sal, headed to the dance floor.

“She’s seein’ someone,” Seth snaps, irritation and anger curdling in his stomach.

Beau snorts. “That’s what they all say. Blah, blah, blah, and then two minutes later you’re bangin’ ’em.” He grins. “Women love when you chase ’em.”

A flare of primal protection rolls through Seth. He clenches his fist. He opens his mouth to tell the asshole that the only thing he’s going to be chasing is an ice pack, when the strum of Luke’s guitar jars him. Seth grits his teeth and pulls his head out of his ass.

He turns to his brother.

Luke’s grinning. Their eyes meet, the song passes between them, and then, missing nothing, they each jump in on their part. One of their favorite songs to play, “Never More True” is a fast-paced folk-rock song he and Luke wrote back in their early days on the porch.

Gripping the mic, Luke belts out, “Oh my darlin’, howdy do? Because tonight, we’re never gonna be more true. Gonna get drunk, a little Jack, a little Jim. It’s Saturday night, damn sure might bet on a win.”

Seth wheels around onstage. His deep rumble, the frenzied saw of his fiddle, makes the crowd come alive. “Gonna spin you around that hardwood floor, and when the music stops, we’ll make some more. Never gonna get more true, baby, me and you. Oh my, darlin’, let’s swing along and chase away these ol’ blues ...”

With Jace practically splitting the strings on the bass, Seth and Luke’s voices blend boisterously. Their groove onstage, their brotherhood, found. Their bond solid. As they play, Beau and his bullshit forgotten, it’s just Seth and Luke. Like they’re kids again on their front porch. Luke teaching him the chords, Seth eager-eyed and earnest, wanting to make his brother proud. In sync.

Always.

Seth wraps up the song with a frenetic fiddle solo, scanning the crowd in front of him. Lacey dances with Sal, her eyes on him, a bright smile on her face. Laughing and joyful. The only fan he wants.

What should be two more songs turns into five, Griff Greyson joining in during the set, and then the Brothers Kincaid are done. High as hell. Ready to keep the night going.

As they climb offstage, Luke claps Seth on the shoulder. “Think you coulda played that song standin’ on your head.”

Seth gives him a cocky grin. “I don’t know, man. Took some real cardio to keep up with you.”

The group converges at the high-top. Emmy Lou and Jace hit the dance floor; so do Alabama and Griff, Luke and Sal. Only Beau hangs back on the sidelines, pounding a beer and scanning the bar with an even expression.

Lacey approaches Seth, almost shyly. “You were wonderful, Seth,” she says, staring at him with heavy-lidded eyes. He fights a smile. She’s tipsy. Damn near adorable.

“Everyone else is dancin’.” Seth holds out a hand. “Might as well.”

Lacey scoffs. But her eyes are soft. “Fine.”

Taking her hand, Seth spins her on the dance floor. The jukebox cranks out a fast, hip-swiveling number that Lacey is clearly feeling. The hem of her denim dress kicks up as she dances and twirls along with the music. Seth hangs back and just watches. Love-stunned.

Damn, that girl can dance.

And kiss.

And kill him with kindness.

Goddamn.

Seth’s heart clenches. Lacey gets him higher than a great song, a cold beer, prime weed. There’s something about her he just can’t stay away from.

The music switches over to a slow ballad. Slowly, Lacey moves back toward him, her eyes all kinds of should we do this?, and yeah, yeah, they should.

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