Ryan Hunter

face. With a light blush, she turned her head away.
    Oh yes, vulnerable. And so up for more. I was dying to know what she’d be writing about in her diary tonight.
    While Rachel fired a volley of questions at Liza that showed she’d noticed my genuine interest in her, I turned to Phil and had another soda with him. We ranted about the three guys on stage that performed a song by OneRepublic.
    “When was the last time you stood up there and sang karaoke,” Phil asked with an obvious hint at me.
    It had been months. And the last time wasn’t such a great success, because Justin and I had sung a duet when we had drunk a little too much. But it was always fun to stand on stage and have the crowd cheering for us. “It’s been a while. You know it’s hard to find a partner who can actually sing.”
    Philip gave a subtle nod toward the girls.
    “Rachel?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
    Phil shook his head, moving his eyes toward Liza and back at me.
    Now I quirked my brows and said a bit lower, “Liza?” Sliding a look over to her, I considered the idea. There was a small chance she could sing. Most girls could. But she didn’t look to me like someone who’d like to become the center of attention in a stuffed club. “She’d never agree.”
    “She would have never agreed to the lime kiss either. But she obviously liked it a lot.”
    I laughed out loud. “You think I should surprise her?”
    “What’s the worst thing that can happen?”
    “That she hates me afterwards and doesn’t ever talk to me again?”
    Phil chuckled. “Good point.”
    I listened to the next song, deciding that the guys earlier were a lot better than the two girls who were blaring a Whitney Houston song. Liza and I could do better than that.
    When I overheard how my sister started to compare Liza’s and my preferences in food, I made up my mind quickly and figured it was time to cut the conversation off and save Liza from the grilling.
    “She’s the devil in disguise, hunting for potential in-laws,” I warned her. “Don’t let her make you sign anything.”
    Rachel slapped me on the shoulder for that remark, but I didn’t care and just grinned at her, because we both knew I was right. Then I took Liza’s hand and pulled her off the barstool. “Let me save you from the Spanish inquisition,” I said in her ear and made her follow me through the crowd.
    A few feet away from the stage, she probably realized what I had in mind, and she pulled me to a stop. “You’re kidding me, right?”
    “Nope.” I added a smile to that. Something she could concentrate on and forget the panic that now caused her hand to shake in mine. And indeed, she walked with me up the stairs onto the stage, though a little reluctant.
    I left her by the microphone for a second to tell the DJ which song he should play. When I turned around again, Liza made an escape for the stairs. With my arm around her waist, I stopped her and dragged her back to the mike.
    “You’re so going to pay for this,” she hissed, but I thought she was more thrilled at the thought of singing than frightened. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have made her come up with me.
    Leaning down to her ear, I told her, “You can hate me later. Now, we sing.”
    When the music rolled out, Liza stared at me with huge eyes. I figured it was up to me alone to perform the first lines of Country Roads . I hugged her tight against me and adjusted the mike to my height, then I sang, and Liza was silent.
    The emotions playing out in her face screamed: I’m going to kill you for this ! And I thought, okay, if I was going to die anyway, we would at least have some fun before. It was her turn to sing, and I held the microphone in front of her kissable mouth.
    Her nails dug into my stomach where she clamped my shirt, and I could feel her heart hammering in her chest where she pressed against me. “Sing,” I mouthed and gave her the most encouraging look manageable.
    Liza grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut. But she opened her mouth and within a few seconds her panicky croak turned into a really beautiful singing voice. Her eyes opened again, and she looked at me with wonder, like she was totally amazed about herself and how well she did. Heck, she even smiled as we sang together. Soon her clawed fingers uncurled, and she pressed her palm against my chest. I placed my hand on top of hers, trying to give her the safe feeling she needed.
    When the crowd started singing with us, her face lit up even more. I