And now I know just what I've found.
A man who brings me to my knees.
Baby, baby, please."
I slide back into the chorus, but my eyes never leave Noah's. He's on his feet clapping and laughing and letting out an obscenely loud wolf whistle when I finally finish the song.
"Wow!" The hostess engulfs me in the kind of hug that really doesn't respect personal space, but I'm too pumped to care, and I hug her right back.
"Thank you all," I say into the microphone. "I haven't done that in a long, long time."
A few customers shout for me to do another song, but I shake my head. "Nope, this is Karaoke night. It's someone else's turn."
We stay for at least three more hours, clapping and cheering and rooting all the singers on.
Afterwards, they surround me, telling me how much they loved Pink Chameleon, and asking me to autograph the bar's cardboard coasters.
All in all, it's an incredible night, and I tell Noah as much when we finally step out of the bar and onto the sidewalk.
"I took a chance," he admits. "With all your talk about not rebooting Pink Chameleon, I wanted . . ."
He trails off, as if not certain what to say.
"What?" I press.
"I wanted you to remember how much you love it."
Tears prick my eyes, and I think that's one of the sweetest things anyone's done for me. "Thank you," I whisper.
"You're welcome."
We walk for a while longer, until I realize that we're not heading toward his car. "Where are we going?"
"Right here," he says, as we reach the corner of Brazos and Sixth. Across the street, the Driskill Hotel stands, proud and lovely.
"Oh." A shiver runs through me, but it's anticipation, not fear. I move closer and slide my arms around his waist. "Noah, I--well, wouldn't you rather go to your place?"
He pulls me close, his strong arms holding me tight against him. "Baby, no. I'm putting you in an Uber."
"What?" I push away, confused.
"I've already called for one. I've had too much to drink to drive you home. I'm just going to leave my car where it is and walk."
"Don't you--I mean--"
I shake my head, confused. I'd been certain he was taking me to a hotel room. I thought he wanted--well, I thought he wanted what I want.
Because I do. Right now, I really want to sleep with this man.
"I can go home with you," I say softly. "I'd like to."
He strokes my hair, his focus on my face. "I'd like nothing more," he says. "But the answer is no."
I start to protest, but he presses a finger against my lips.
"I want you, Kiki. Make no mistake about that. I want you so badly, I ache. But I want all of you, and so I made up my mind. I'm not sleeping with you unless there's more than just sex between us.
"I don't want to be friends with benefits," he continues. "So I'm telling you right now, Kiki, I want more. I want it all. And I'm not a man who settles. Not anymore."