Read Online Brazing (Forged in Fire #2) by Rachel Higginson, Lila Felix - Free Book Online
Authors: Rachel Higginson, Lila Felix
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and so very innocent.
So then, why did my skin feel as if he’d lit me on fire and the flames had sucked all the oxygen from the room?
“I have it right here,” I finally answered him.
With stilted movements, he pulled that same hand from his pocket and took the water-beaded glass from my hand. Our fingers brushed, but I had a feeling the touch had been purely accidental. Bridger’s attention focused directly on my face, but instead of the interested expression that had heated my belly and touched me in a very physical way, he now looked at me like he was a detective and I was a homicidal murderer caught with a knife plunged deeply in my latest victim.
So… not in a good way.
Grumpy Bridger had joined us this evening.
Time for a distraction.
I leaned in so that he could hear me over the raucous of the bar and the terrible bellowing from the karaoke machine. I took up my whisky and lemonade from the bartender and held it out to him. He took it, looking down at my deceptively girly drink with mild disgust.
I smiled. I couldn’t help it.
I didn’t want to find his bad attitude so compelling, but there was something about that little-boy pout that reminded me of the little-girl crush I’d once had on him.
“Better get that table now so you can enjoy the show!” I shouted over the music.
“What show?” His thick brows dipped over those electric eyes and the corners of his lips turned down.
I winked at him and blindly grabbed at Carter’s hand behind me. I yanked her with me as she tripped in her four-inch heels and sloshed her drink on some unsuspecting patrons. Not missing a beat, she righted herself and dropped her drink off on an empty table as I hurried her toward the stage.
“I thought we weren’t singing tonight!” she hollered at me.
I tossed a smirk over my shoulder and shouted back, “I’m feeling inspired!”
“God, I love it when you get all spunky and spontaneous!”
We giggled and linked elbows. Walking straight up to the pair of guys standing near the stage pretending like they could care less they were next in line. I decided to use their too-cool-for-school attitude to my advantage. The girl on stage started the last chords of her upbeat pop song and the DJ pulled out two mics to pass off on the ballers with their gold chains and exposed boxers.
Bleh, did guys really think girls still went for the slobbish-gangster look?
Not this girl.
Give me a boy in well-worn jeans and a snugly fit t-shirt every day of the week. Add in some super-sexy cowboy boots and tussled, bed-head hair and I was a goner.
Oh, shit. I’d just described Bridger!
What was wrong with me?!?
Focus, Tate.
“Hey, guys,” Carter started with the guys holding the mics. They looked a little green with stage fright. That was the thing about most people and karaoke. Everyone that thought they held any degree of talent wanted to go on stage and show it to the world, but only in theory. In reality, standing in front of a room full of people, baring your soul and singing your guts out was the worst kind of torture known to man. That was a fact. A tried and true fact.
Don’t argue with me.
It was at this point, just mere feet from the stage, with the hot lights melting your face and the mic a live explosive in your hands, that people started to form serious second-thoughts.
Luckily, neither Carter nor I were bound by silly things like insecurity or fear.
At least with a little liquid courage and each other to hold onto, anyway.
“Hey,” they answered her in unison.
“So, see our friend over there?” I asked. “He has to leave in a few minutes and we promised to serenade him for his birthday. Do you care if we cut in line and take your song? We know it’s a rude thing to ask but-”
The mics were shoved into our hands. “Take it,” one of them demanded.
And then they disappeared into the crowd without a backward glance.
“Well, that was easier than I thought.”
“You’re going to hell for all
So then, why did my skin feel as if he’d lit me on fire and the flames had sucked all the oxygen from the room?
“I have it right here,” I finally answered him.
With stilted movements, he pulled that same hand from his pocket and took the water-beaded glass from my hand. Our fingers brushed, but I had a feeling the touch had been purely accidental. Bridger’s attention focused directly on my face, but instead of the interested expression that had heated my belly and touched me in a very physical way, he now looked at me like he was a detective and I was a homicidal murderer caught with a knife plunged deeply in my latest victim.
So… not in a good way.
Grumpy Bridger had joined us this evening.
Time for a distraction.
I leaned in so that he could hear me over the raucous of the bar and the terrible bellowing from the karaoke machine. I took up my whisky and lemonade from the bartender and held it out to him. He took it, looking down at my deceptively girly drink with mild disgust.
I smiled. I couldn’t help it.
I didn’t want to find his bad attitude so compelling, but there was something about that little-boy pout that reminded me of the little-girl crush I’d once had on him.
“Better get that table now so you can enjoy the show!” I shouted over the music.
“What show?” His thick brows dipped over those electric eyes and the corners of his lips turned down.
I winked at him and blindly grabbed at Carter’s hand behind me. I yanked her with me as she tripped in her four-inch heels and sloshed her drink on some unsuspecting patrons. Not missing a beat, she righted herself and dropped her drink off on an empty table as I hurried her toward the stage.
“I thought we weren’t singing tonight!” she hollered at me.
I tossed a smirk over my shoulder and shouted back, “I’m feeling inspired!”
“God, I love it when you get all spunky and spontaneous!”
We giggled and linked elbows. Walking straight up to the pair of guys standing near the stage pretending like they could care less they were next in line. I decided to use their too-cool-for-school attitude to my advantage. The girl on stage started the last chords of her upbeat pop song and the DJ pulled out two mics to pass off on the ballers with their gold chains and exposed boxers.
Bleh, did guys really think girls still went for the slobbish-gangster look?
Not this girl.
Give me a boy in well-worn jeans and a snugly fit t-shirt every day of the week. Add in some super-sexy cowboy boots and tussled, bed-head hair and I was a goner.
Oh, shit. I’d just described Bridger!
What was wrong with me?!?
Focus, Tate.
“Hey, guys,” Carter started with the guys holding the mics. They looked a little green with stage fright. That was the thing about most people and karaoke. Everyone that thought they held any degree of talent wanted to go on stage and show it to the world, but only in theory. In reality, standing in front of a room full of people, baring your soul and singing your guts out was the worst kind of torture known to man. That was a fact. A tried and true fact.
Don’t argue with me.
It was at this point, just mere feet from the stage, with the hot lights melting your face and the mic a live explosive in your hands, that people started to form serious second-thoughts.
Luckily, neither Carter nor I were bound by silly things like insecurity or fear.
At least with a little liquid courage and each other to hold onto, anyway.
“Hey,” they answered her in unison.
“So, see our friend over there?” I asked. “He has to leave in a few minutes and we promised to serenade him for his birthday. Do you care if we cut in line and take your song? We know it’s a rude thing to ask but-”
The mics were shoved into our hands. “Take it,” one of them demanded.
And then they disappeared into the crowd without a backward glance.
“Well, that was easier than I thought.”
“You’re going to hell for all
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