“Thank you, sir. No problem. There’s a table right here, up front, but in the corner.”
Chance put his hand on the small of Jolene’s back and followed her in the direction the bouncer was leading them. He nodded here and there to people as they maneuvered past other tables. It was always an odd experience to watch expressions change when they realized who he and Jolene were. It was a sensation his father had always enjoyed tremendously. And while Jolene didn’t crave it, she didn’t mind it. But it made him uncomfortable. It always had.
Except tonight, with Jolene by his side, he just felt proud. He was proud of her and how hard she had worked for this, and instead of worrying about his own feelings of discomfort with the limelight, he wanted to focus on her. She deserved success and to be able to enjoy what she had achieved. Plus, he was proud of them for enduring a roller-coaster ride and coming out on the other end still caring about each other.
Because he did care about her. A whole hell of a lot. There was no denying that.
Pulling a chair out for Jolene, he ushered Dolly to a spot under the table. She was a dog used to lots of loud music. She settled right down and dropped her head on her front paws and closed her eyes. Not even the foreign smells of the sticky floor seemed to interest her. Chance tied her leash to his chair, just in case, and sat down. “What are you drinking?” he asked Jolene. “Beer, you said?”
“Yes, please. Something light.”
When he flagged down a waitress, he saw a group of girls in their twenties taking pictures of them. He smiled. “I hope they get my good side,” he told Jolene.
“Which side is your good side?”
“All of them.”
She laughed. “Modest, as usual. Now hush. The band is going back on.”
The band was a four-piece country rock group—young, talented. Chance enjoyed sitting back and taking in the sound with Jolene for company. He was constantly aware of the people around them taking pictures and whispering, but he was in too good a mood to let it bother him. This was what he loved. Just sitting down and listening to music. Jolene looked beautiful, and he couldn’t stop touching her. He put his hand on her leg, he scooted his chair closer to hers, he squeezed her hand. She smiled at him every time he touched her, and it made him eager to get her somewhere private and see how high he could turn up that smile.
He joined in with the applause when the set ended. He sipped his beer and accepted what he knew was coming. You couldn’t step into the Bluebird and not expect to have your name called out if you were even remotely famous. It didn’t take long.
“So, I see we have some serious talent here tonight,” the emcee said, tipping his head in their direction. “Hart-Rivers in the house, y’all. Give them a warm welcome.”
Chance gave him a wave and turned and did the same to the room. Jolene blew a kiss to the emcee.
“Now, I don’t usually ask this.” The guy was in his forties, wearing sunglasses and a black vest with designer jeans. Chance didn’t recognize him, but he was clearly very comfortable on the stage, and his words didn’t sound particularly apologetic. He had the crowd and he knew it. “But my mother always said it never hurts to ask, so what would y’all think about coming on up here and singing us a song?”
There it was. Chance looked at Jolene. She was already shaking her head, but Chance knew it was because of him. Maybe it was time for him to bend a little. He was the one who had brought her here in public. So he couldn’t shy away from the spotlight. “I’m in,” he told her. “You feel like singing a song with me, JoJo?”
“Really?” Her eyes were wide. When she realized he was serious, she grinned. “I’d love to.”
“Cool.” He was ridiculously pleased that he could make her that happy, but he didn’t want her to know that. Because why? He wasn’t sure. Was Earth going to implode if Jolene knew he wanted her to be happy? Damn, he was such a dude sometimes.
Yet he didn’t say anything. The words were stuck in his throat. So he just stood up and held his hand out to her. She took it, and he impulsively reached over and gave her a kiss. Her eyebrows shot up as she pulled back and looked at him.
“Really?” she repeated more softly, though he assumed this time she was referencing the kiss.
“Really.”
Everyone in the room was clapping and whistling already, and they hadn’t even done anything. This was going to be fun.
“What should we sing?” he asked.
“Whatever you want.”
“?‘Whiskey Kiss’?” It was one of their hottest songs, both on the charts and in the lyrics. They’d written it one night naked in bed, and he had alternated picking his guitar and stroking on her. The memory made him wish they were alone and repeating every minute of that night.
“Oh, you are feeling feisty tonight, Chance Rivers,” she said. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
He leaned over and whispered, “You’re going to have a whole lot in you in another hour or two. Can you handle it?”