Once her drink was refilled, they slowly navigated the room and out through the oversized barn doors to the outdoor amphitheater.
“Fresh air.” Becca sucked in a deep breath. Then downed a good half of her drink. Her giggle was nervous, brittle. “That’s it?” She pointed at the stage.
“This time tomorrow, wall-to-wall fans.” He nodded. “That’s what I hear, anyway.”
She was staring into her drink. “Never been a fan of crowds. Don’t mind the studio, recording stuff…but this part.” She shrugged. “Uncle Tig says I’m made for it, though. He knows what he’s talking about?”
He wasn’t sure what she was asking him. “You should switch to water.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “Can I get you something?”
He held up his still-full glass of water. “I’m good. Thanks.”
He watched her go, beyond puzzled by the whole exchange. For someone so happy and excited to be here, she was awfully eager to get drunk. Nikki had been the same.
Not going there.
He took a sip of water. Over the rim of his glass, he saw the person he’d spent the last twenty-four hours aching to see. In a bold red dress that dipped low in the front, Krystal was drawing plenty of attention. Not that she noticed. From the way she was scanning the crowd, he knew she was looking for someone.
Or someone to avoid.
Mickey Graham was here—Luke had seen him.
And then there was Tig Whitman.
Whether or not she liked it, he wanted to be at her side when she ran into either of them.
She saw him before he got to her. If someone had told him she’d light up like a Christmas tree and make a beeline for him, he wouldn’t have believed it. But she did.
“Hi.” She stared up at him, inches away.
“Hi yourself.” He slid an arm around her waist and kissed her. It wasn’t nearly as long and deep and lingering as he’d have liked, but it was perfectly acceptable for where they were. “You look good enough to eat,” he murmured in her ear.
“Promise?” Her eyes flashed.
His breath caught and he shook his head.
“Jace.” Hank was shaking his hand. “How’s your evening going?”
He was still recovering from Krystal’s invitation to say more than “Fine. Good.”
“Looking a little rough around the edges.” Travis nodded at him.
He shrugged. “I’ve been here an hour.”
Travis took his glass and sniffed. “You’re not drinking. That’s the problem. I’ll get you something.”
Krystal hooked her arm in his. “Anyone of interest here?”
“Everyone?” he asked. “I’m pretty sure everyone who’s anyone is here.” His fingers threaded with hers. “Mickey was playing pool a while back. But you and him and a pool cue might not go over too well for him.”
She smiled up at him. “I like how you say that without an ounce of judgment.”
“Not one.” He couldn’t stop looking at her. Or touching her. He let go of her hand long enough to slide an arm around her waist. He rattled off a few more names, including commentary on a few wardrobe choices that had her smiling.
“Anyone else?”
She swallowed. He knew—from the l