think it’s sweet.” Erika practically sighed.
Maggie shot Erika an amazed look, then realized that most of the patrons in the bar were looking at her with the same goofy smile Erika sported.
Maggie’s cheeks burned even more. This was just cruel; a mean joke. It had to be. Nothing that happen between them last night could lead her to believe he could mean any of what he was singing.
Suddenly she was back in another place feeling just as stupid, then too the butt of some colossal joke.
Her cheeks still burned, but now with irritation. God, she was so stupid. To come back here—because a fortune-teller saw it in a bunch of wet tea leaves.
She didn’t say a word to her friends as she strode past the stage and out the door.
She’d made it a block down the street, past the mechanical swinging legs protruding through the window of one of the many nudie bars, when she heard her name being called. But it wasn’t Jo or Erika as she expected.
She spun, slipping on one of the many strands of Mardi Gras beads that littered the street—even though it wasn’t close to Mardi Gras yet. Obviously another joke by the universe to make her feel stupid. But before she could fall, a strong hand reached out to catch her arm and steady her.
She regained her balance and stared up into hazel eyes, one fringed with white lashes.
“Maggie,” Ren said, not releasing his hold on her, although he loosened his grip. Maybe to let her know he wasn’t going to stop her if she really wanted to go.
She told herself to do just that. Go. But instead she remained still, staring at where his fingers touched her bare skin.
And darn it, her body reacted to him. Even as she felt the burn of humiliation, she also felt the hot tingle of attraction.
“I don’t appreciate you making me the target of some private joke back there,” she said, managing to keep her voice even, despite her embarrassment, despite her arousal.
“I wasn’t,” he said, his own voice sounding sincerely confused.
She stopped staring at his hand and met his gaze. “You’d have to be. There was no other reason to sing that song.”
A small smile curled his lips. “Actually, I can think of one.”
“What?”
“Um,” he said, pretending to consider other motives, “maybe because I’ve never been very subtle. And I wanted you to know I’m interested in you.”
She stared at him, hardly believing he’d just said that.
When she didn’t speak after several seconds, he added, “Or I could have just thought you seemed like a Cheap Trick fan.”
Still she didn’t speak. Did he really mean what he’d said? He was interested in her?
“Really, you decide which one you’re comfortable with,” he said, looking decidedly awkward. “I’m okay with whichever one will get you back in the bar.”
She studied him, trying to read whether he was toying with her. All she could see was sincerity.
“Please,” he said as if to reinforce her thoughts. He gestured back to the bar.
He’d sung that song in honesty? The irritation, the humiliation, drained from her. She’d known what to do with those emotions, but what she was feeling now…she had no idea.
“Why?” she finally asked.
“Why? Because I feel bad that I embarrassed you. And I’d like you to hang around.”
“No. Why are you interested in me?”
He frowned as if the question made no sense to him. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re pretty. You seem nice and intelligent and interesting.”
“But you don’t know me.”
“Ah, but that’s why I want you to come back to the bar. So I can get the chance to know you.”
Maggie realized she wanted that too. Very much. And frankly, the desire scared her. She shouldn’t be interested in a guy like this. Maybe it wasn’t an invitation to heartbreak, but it was definitely an invitation to more than she could handle.
Ren moved his hand from her arm, only to catch her fingers. “Come on back. I won’t dedicate any more songs to you. I promise. I’ll even admit that the sentiment of that one was a little presumptuous.” His grin widened to full Cheshire cat glory. “Although sincere.”
Maggie felt her cheeks burn even more, if possible.
“Okay,” she heard herself say, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed as he began to tug her down the street. His abruptness stunned her for a second, but she managed to gather her wits and dig in her heels.
He halted, turning to give her an inquiring look.
“I am going back with you,” she said. “But only because I left my friends there, and I don’t want to be rude.”
Ren’s eyebrow raised, stating without words that he didn’t totally buy that, but then he said, “Like I said, whatever will get you back there works for me.”
Again she found herself being towed toward the bar. As they got closer, she noticed that Erika and Jo waited in the doorway. Jo started forward, but Erika stopped her with a hand on her arm.
Maggie looked at her own arm where Ren had touched her. The skin there still tingled, but the sensation was nothing when compared to how her fingers felt surrounded by his longer ones.
“Hey, Erika and Jo,” Ren greeted her friends before Maggie could speak to them or they to her.
“I really need to make up for upsetting Maggie here,” he said offering them an endearing smile. “Could you please make sure she stays so she can see that I’ll be on my best behavior?”
Erika smiled back. “Sure.”
“If she wants to stay,” Jo added. She wasn’t as impressed with his easy charm.
Maggie appreciated both her friends’ attitudes. It was nice to be both defended and supported. And since her brain still wasn’t functioning properly, she could possibly need either one.
They all entered the bar, and as soon as some of the patrons saw Maggie and Ren, they began to applaud.
Heat burned Maggie’s cheeks once again, but Ren simply lifted a hand in greeting. He leaned toward her. “See, you’ve got to stay or everybody’s going to think I’m some kind of monster, driving away a sweet person like you.”
Maggie didn’t respond, but the word sweet resonated with her. The fortune-teller, Hattie, had used that word to describe her too. Good Lord, now that was hardly a sign.
He squeezed her hand, then released her. With a quick curl of a smile, he bounded back onto the stage.
“Okay,” he called out over the microphone, “who wants some rock and roll?”
The crowd cheered, and the band went right into a song. Maggie followed her friends to the bar, staring up at the stage, still not understanding everything that had just happened.
She still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that the whole thing was some horrible trick.
She turned to the bar and the bartender with the antenna hair came over immediately. The antennae were in full working order, obviously.
“What can I get you?” She smiled widely, as if they were old friends.
“Do you have wine?” Maggie asked, surprised her voice sounded so normal.
“Really bad wine,” the bartender answered honestly.
“I’ll take it.”
The