Hillbilly Rockstar (Blacktop Cowboys 6)

“I ain’t got all night. She’s about done.”

“Hang on. ‘You’re the One That I Want’ is too clichéd. As is ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.’”

“Ticktock, sweetheart.”

She grinned. “Got it.” She scrawled on a piece of paper, folded it and handed it over.

“Let’s go.” He held her hand as they walked to the DJ stand. Then he held her eyes when he said, “Do you have ‘Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man’ as a selection?” to the DJ.

Huh. No look of victory on Liberty’s face now.

Imagine that.

Devin made a big show of unfolding the paper. “Wow. Guess you were wrong, darlin’. I didn’t pick ‘Jackson’ by Johnny Cash and June Carter.”

“You suck.”

“Aw, now, is that any way to speak to your duet partner?” He nudged her. “Go on, now. Let’s do this thang.”

“Jesus.”

But he knew she was having a good time when she twirled her microphone cord like Loretta. His pants weren’t tight enough for a Conway Twitty impersonation, so he didn’t even try. After they finished the song with zero reaction from the bar, she said, “I’m picking the next duet.”

Which, of course, was “Jackson.”

Back at the table, she scowled at her Coke. “I really want another beer.”

“Have one. I’ll drive.”

“Thanks, but I’m guarding your body after we leave here, remember?”

Devin ran his knuckles down her cheek. “I was havin’ so much fun with you that I forgot.” He kissed her. Sweetly, but as always, it was laced with heat. “Let’s go.”

“Wait a sec. Have you ever karaoked one of your songs?”

“Never. Why?”

Liberty brushed her lips over his. “Because this is your perfect chance to do it. Sort of like seeing your name in the jukebox. Won’t you feel a little vindicated that you’re singing a chart-topping song in a dive bar like you used to play in?”

“No.”

“I dare you.”

He snorted. “Like that’ll work.”

“Then I’ll make it worth your while.” She placed her hand on his groin and started to rub his cock.

“Dammit, Liberty. The last thing I need is a f**king hard-on in here.”

“Because you’re gonna go up there and sing for me, aren’t you?” she cooed. She kept rubbing his cock. His c**k kept liking it.

His mind took a hike for a second.

His mind must’ve taken a longer hike than he realized because when he came to, Liberty said, “See? That’s the spirit!” and practically shoved him out of the booth.

His c**k pouted.

So just for shits and giggles, Devin picked his least favorite song, “Beat-up Truck.” At first he planned to totally massacre it, but then he decided to pretend he was just a guy, singing a song to impress his girl. He closed his eyes and tried to remember how he felt the first time he’d ever sung this song.

After he finished the last note, he looked over at Liberty just as someone from the back of the room yelled, “You suck! Get off the stage!”

The MC tried to smooth things over by exclaiming, “Well, I didn’t think he was that bad. It ain’t easy to get up on this stage. Karaoke is a great way to define your vocal limits.” She smiled at Devin encouragingly. “If you have the guts to get up here again, I know just the song that’s better suited to your abilities. That’s why I’m here. To help!”

Finally someone in the back clapped.

“Here’s another one of my favorites.” The MC practically pushed him off the stage. Then she nodded to the DJ and launched into “Emotions” by Mariah Carey.

The fifty feet to the booth felt like a walk of shame.

“Good thing I don’t have aspirations for a musical career,” he said dryly.

Liberty was laughing so hard she had to hold her stomach. She slid out of the booth and whapped his biceps. “Stop it. I’m gonna pee my pants.”

“Find this amusing, do you?”

“Yes. My God. If they only knew.” She hooked her arm through his as they cut out the side door. “Just think what a great sound bite that’ll make for an interview.”

Devin stopped. He framed her face in his hands. “I’d never do that—use that story. I don’t want to share a personal part of my life just for entertainment’s sake. That’s mine and yours.”

She stared at him with such a soft, sweet look that he was momentarily stunned. “Then I’m so glad we had tonight, Devin.”

“Me too, sweetheart. And thank you. For what you did at the hospital.”

“You’re welcome. I’m just glad I got out of making crafts.”

He kissed her forehead. “One thing you’re not getting out of? You promised to make my humiliation onstage worth my while. And I’m thinking a hand job in the car will take the edge off until we get to the bus.”

Chapter Seventeen

Devin had her shirt off.

Again.

He’d talked her into wearing a noncompression bra.

Again.

That wicked, sensual mouth and those skillful hands were turning her mindless as he teased her to the begging point.

Again.

“Devin.”

“I’m getting there, sweetheart.” He dragged his razor-stubbled cheek over the lacy edge of her bra cup. Then his tongue snaked under the lace and the end almost reached her hard nipple. Almost. He did that twice more.