With a chuckle, he got up, went to the band, and picked up the microphone. He came in midverse in the song and immediately, the dance floor filled. From the reactions of the patrons, Jack singing with the band was a regular occurrence—and a welcome one.
Minutes later, Chris came to the booth, held out his hand to Kate, and she took it. When she was on the dance floor with him, she saw Jack, singing away, glower. She mouthed “Wyatt” and he shook his head at her. As she started to dance, Jack put more energy into his voice, more emotion into the song. And when he started a sexy, gyrating dance, the women broke away from their partners, stopped moving, and gave their attention to Jack.
But Kate didn’t want to stop dancing. Chris raised his eyebrows in question and she shook her head. She didn’t want to stop. The other dancers stepped back and formed a circle around the edge of the dance floor. When all of them looked toward the table of firemen and started clapping, she knew something was up.
One of the men, about Jack’s age, downed half his beer, then stood up, and did a stretch. His T-shirt strained against muscles. He had on suspenders and they looked good.
Kate had no idea what was going on, but Chris did. He let go of Kate and stepped back. It looked like he was turning her over to the other man.
“Name’s Garth,” the man said over the music, then took Kate in his arms.
To say that Garth was a good dancer was an understatement. Think Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing. Think Channing Tatum. Kate thought that she loved dancing so much because she’d been deprived of it when growing up. It was inconceivable that she would have been allowed to go to a high school dance. Her religious-fanatic uncles forbade it.
When she got to college, it was as though all that pent-up movement came out. Her required physical classes were all in dance. Garth, as limber as though he were made of soft plastic, brought out the best in her. Add that to Jack’s singing, which grew in tempo and ferocity as it went on, and it was a three-way show. Kate and Garth on the floor, surrounded by clapping and cheering couples, Jack on the stage, his voice throaty and suggestive and powerful.
After a very long dance session, Kate was out of breath and she could practically see Garth’s heart pounding through his tight shirt. Abruptly, Jack changed to a slow song, the other dancers filled the floor, and Garth pulled Kate to him. His cheek was next to hers.
“So you like Chris, do you?” Garth asked.
“Nice guy. So why’s he single?”
“Same as Jack, I guess. He can’t find a woman who is sweet, pretty, and mentally stable.”
“Oooooh. Sounds like he’s had a hard time.”
“He has. Ask anybody about Bridget. He hasn’t had it as bad as Gil, but—”
At the name, Kate stopped and looked at him. “Gil? What did he—?”
Their halting seemed to bother Jack as he abruptly stopped singing. One of the band members took the mic, and Jack jumped down. He pushed Garth aside and led Kate into the dance.
She had grown accustomed to his quick movements. “You interrupted at a very bad time.”
“Garth is married and has a kid and a half. He—”
She moved closer to him. “Shut up and listen. He said that Chris dated Bridget who—”
“Was crazy.”
Kate stepped away and glared at him.
Jack pulled her back into his arms and was silent, listening.
“Garth said Bri
dget wasn’t as bad as Gil has it, but...”
“But what?”
“That’s when you jumped off the stage and demanded my full attention.”
Jack ignored that remark. “Gil is my best friend. He’d tell me if...”
“Tell you what?”
“Nothing. He hasn’t told me anything. What does Garth know that I don’t?”
“Maybe I would have found out if you hadn’t done one of your jealous fits and—”