One to Love (One to Hold 4)

“My friend Mariska would love this place,” I tried, going for a more optimistic topic. “I bet it gets really busy... at some point.”

Melissa laughed more and rested her forehead on her hand. “I’m sorry,” she said with a sniff. “It really doesn’t.”

Elaine’s eyes narrowed, and she turned to me. “Hey! Are you still doing tattoos?”

“Oh, yes!” Her friend sat up. “I would love to get something with Derek and Dex’s names or birthdates. Help me think of something.”

Tracing my finger around the rim of my glass, I thought of last night. “I’ve still got my license, but I don’t have the equipment. ”

“Well, shit.” Melissa frowned. “I loved what you did with Patrick’s ink.”

I smiled up at her. Melissa was really nice to me, but I’d never been certain of Elaine’s feelings. She seemed okay with Patrick’s and my past, but it was hard to tell.

“You have mine.” Melissa slid her second wine glass across the table. “I’m the designated driver, and with Dex nursing, I—”

“Baby talk!” Elaine held up a hand then she leaned into my ear. “Don’t worry. Once the band starts, they’ll dim the lights and this place will get crazy. Ish.”

My eyes drifted to the elderly couple now eating waffles in the back corner. “I can’t wait.”

At that moment Elaine squealed, “Ow!” and I almost spilled my cosmo. “That’s my leg, thanks!”

Melissa’s eyes were round, and she shot forward, leaning against the table, her mouth partially covered with her hand. “Brrnnn. Twrrrf o’crock.”

“What?” Elaine’s voice was too loud, but it was too late.

A tall, nice-looking guy with brown hair and eyes stopped at our booth, and her body went rigid. Standing next to him was a shorter fellow with floppy brown hair and dark eyes that drifted over each of us, pausing on me. He wore a green tee, and I could see a little ink peeking from under both shirtsleeves. Interesting.

“Hi, Elaine.” The tall guy said. “You look great as always.”

Melissa’s eyes were on her wine glass, and she fiddled her fingers along the base. She seemed to be holding her breath, which made the muscles in my stomach clench uncomfortably. Why were they both freaking out?

“Hello, Brian.” Elaine’s whole demeanor had changed, and her voice was cool and controlled. “I hope you’re not planning on causing another scene.”

“I said I was sorry for that.” Brian’s eyes went from us to sweeping the room. “I was a little drunk, but I’ve accepted that you’ve moved on... still?”

“That’s right. I have.” Elaine was ticked, but when I glanced at the shorter guy again, he was smiling at me. He was cute, so I gave him a little smile back.

“This is my cousin Gabe. He’s new in town and wanted to come over and say Hi. He works at the body shop with Ed.”

Melissa’s chin snapped up, and she seemed to be inspired. “Hi, Gabe, I’m Melissa. You know Elaine, I’m sure, and this is our friend Kenny.”

“Hi, Kenny.” His tenor voice was shy, which I decided was cute. A tatted-up shy guy was something new to me.

Smiling, I pushed a strand of purple behind my ear. “Hi.”

Elaine’s expression changed as well, and whatever issue she had with Brian was forgotten. As if on cue, a tall, slender girl with gorgeous, spiraled black hair and bohemian clothes took the stage followed by two guys similarly dressed and carrying guitars. The lights dimmed, and the girl started singing in a voice like silk. Elaine jumped out of the booth, grabbing my arm and pulling me right behind her.

“Come on,

Gabe!” she shouted over the music. “Let’s dance!”

Gabe appeared as stunned as his cousin, and I couldn’t help laughing—the two cosmopolitans helped. Perhaps my brain was taking the night off? I followed Elaine out to the floor, where she started twisting her hips to the sultry rhythm. Her silky, blonde hair swished over her shoulders, and Melissa shook her head, smiling into her wine glass and keeping her seat.

I followed Elaine’s lead, swaying to the beat of the exotic music. The song was something about meeting a guy in the desert, and it didn’t take long for Gabe to come up behind me and hold my waist as we moved together, facing the band.

He was shorter than most guys I knew, and in my purple stacks, his mouth was right at my ear when he spoke. “I like your hair.”

The vibration of his voice tingled my skin, and I turned to face him. His hands were still on my waist, so I put mine on his shoulders and studied his dark eyes, blinking to mine and occasionally catching the colorful lights from the stage.