Page 14 of Frankie and the Fed (Untamed Rascals #3)

M aeve’s Mayhem and Gold was an upscale bar with a subtle pirate theme on River Street. It was housed in an old building currently owned by an adorable lesbian couple who turned it into an entertainment hub complete with an upscale inn and cute little ice cream shop.

Maeve was a friend, but in a place as small as Savannah, that meant we had fooled around a bit before she met her wife, Sarah. I wasn’t upset about it. We were never anything more than friends with benefits, two lonely gay women in a sea of judgmental and likely closeted old bitches.

The smooth wailing of a deep, masculine voice carried through the night, vibrating the air with resonant tones, filling it with the promise of a hazy night.

Lights danced on the water, and the bullhorn of the Riverboat sounded, warning guests of their impending departure.

The masculine voice wound down and was promptly replaced with the dulcet tones of a perfectly played French horn.

“I love this place. This was home to me in a way my childhood home never was. More true talent and heart lives on the street here than anywhere I’ve ever been,” I said to Jamie as we came closer to the music and the end of our ride.

“All the overlooked talent in the city flocks here to try to make their mark, practice their craft, and pour their heart out onto the cobblestone street. Even if nothing but the breeze answered their songs. They are the true heart of this city.”

I grabbed Jamie’s hand the second we were out of the car and drug her toward the music. Even if it wasn’t our final destination, I wanted her to experience this—this part of me and my city that I hadn’t shared with anyone.

“Sounds beautiful. I miss good music and the way it can make you feel something so deeply,” she said, taking my hand easily.

This close to the water, the breeze blew chilly and strong, sending a shiver through me and raising goosebumps on my skin.

Still, I didn’t want to escape to the warmth of the bar just yet.

“Then this is exactly the right place. Listen closely, and I bet you can hear his soul with every note.” I stopped us in front of the horn player.

A small group had gathered and were dropping bills into the open instrument case.

I dropped a generous tip in, concealed behind small bills so it wouldn’t draw attention .

“It’s beautiful. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a French horn solo before,” she said as she pulled me close.

“I once saw a kid no older than twelve do a whole twenty-minute solo with drumsticks and a five-gallon bucket. He had almost everyone on the Riverwalk enraptured by his performance. There’s amazing talent in the world that gets overlooked every day because they don’t fit some preconceived idea of who they should be,” I said passionately.

Supporting the arts in this city mattered, and I’d done so generously. If I were as arrogant as my parents, my name would be plastered on more walls than just the museum’s.

Another shiver ran through me. Jamie pulled me away from the show and toward the row of businesses behind us.

“Let’s get you inside so you can be warm,” she said close enough to me that I could feel her breath tickling my neck, sending a round of shivers through me that had nothing to do with the cold.

I led her over to the dimly lit Mayhem and Gold. The off-key crooning of a karaoke singer wafted from the open entrance, enticing no one but the brave to come in.

I squeezed Jamie’s hand tight as I pulled her through the entryway. The warmth of the crammed bodies and stench of mediocre beer greeted us.

We pushed our way to the bar. Maeve was nowhere to be found, and the bar was tended by a burly black man with a kind smile and a graying beard. Samuel. Loved that guy.

“Frankie,” Samuel called out as soon as he saw us. Jamie all but shoved me into the last seat and stood beside me, crowding in close enough to make a visible claim to anyone paying attention. “Haven’t seen you in ages. ”

He pulled out the glass and mixer for my regular drink without me even having to ask.

“Been busy,” I said to cover the twinge of shame at how often I came here, or maybe it was because I’d avoided it since Jamie came into town and drew me into the mystery she presented.

I turned to her, and her hand slid from where it rested on my lower back, around my hip, and down my thigh. Fuck. “What do you like?”

She looked a little lost when she scanned the wall of drinks.

“Samuel’s great. He can make anything,” I assured her.

“That’s not… I don’t know what I like. I didn’t really drink after I left the mormon church, so I never learned what drinks are what.” I was surprised by this bit of information and filed it away, wondering what other experiences she’d never had.

“Wait, so you don’t have a favorite drink?”

She bit her lip and shook her head.

“Well, this is going to be fun. Sweet or spicy?”

“Spicy?” She didn’t seem sure, but it was a place to start. Without turning my body and losing her thumb on my thigh, I ordered a jalapeno margarita.

“You’ll like this. It’s still sweet from the pineapple, but the rim is coated in Tajin instead of plain salt, and it’s got a backend kick to it.”

He passed our drinks to us—mine a pear martini dubbed Autumn in Paris.

She took an experimental sip of hers. The skepticism on her face quickly transformed into delight.

“I like that.” She took another sip .

“Here, try mine.” I handed her my glass so she could sip it and watched entranced as her lips covered my lipstick stain, my body buzzing from the sight.

“Wow. Alright, I’m coming to you for drink recommendations from now on. This is amazing as well.” She passed it back to me, and I turned the glass to sip from the stain. A low pulse ran through me deep in my core.

“I’m glad you like it. Now, what song are you going to sing?” I touched her, just a light brush of my hand on her arm.

That lost look came over her eyes again for just a moment before she shuttered the expression and smiled at me.

“I know just the thing. Where’s the sign up?”

I led her over to the booth. She didn’t let me see what she would be singing, so I kept mine from her, too. Two can play the coy game here.

We finished our drinks and ordered two more—a prairie buzz for her, and an amaretto sour for me so she could try it.

“Oh my god, if I knew alcohol came coffee flavored, I probably would have taken up drinking years ago,” she said as she leaned back in the booth we snagged.

One hand rested on her drink and the other along the back of the seat, right behind me. She’d shed her cardigan, and I tried not to stare at her exquisitely toned arms.

It was the ghost tour all over again, except this time, I would probably have to ask for her arm around me.

“Here, try mine.” Instead of handing her the drink this time, I held it up to her lips. It was awkward and took maneuvering not to spill, but it was also sexy as hell to watch her drink from my hand.

She licked her lips, and I followed the path of her tongue with an obsessive intensity that shocked even me. I imagined that tongue tracing my lips, dipping inside, tasting me.

“Frankie,” the karaoke attendant called my name. There was a tone of annoyance in his voice that said it wasn’t the first time he had called it.

“Duty calls.” I laughed awkwardly as I climbed out of the booth. Jamie had stood to let me out, but the feral piece of me that rode close to the surface tonight wanted her to stay in her seat so I would have to crawl over her and could grind myself on her thigh along the way.

The drinks hit harder than I expected. It took a moment to gather my balance, and then I sauntered up to the stage, swaying my hips so my skirt would dance around me as I moved, hoping Jamie was watching every step.

I wasn’t a great singer, but the first strains of the music started, and I locked eyes with Jamie while I sang. I couldn’t hit the high notes. I couldn’t hit any notes, but I danced my heart out while I sang, and Jamie laughed while she sat riveted to my every move.

She was up next. The room spun and took on a glow. I didn’t think I could make it back to the booth, so I leaned against the nearest wall, close to the stage, to watch her sing.

My heart stopped when the first words came out. Not only was her voice low for a woman, but she also carried the notes like she was born to it. She was the kind of singer that I came to places like this searching for.

She closed her eyes while on stage and didn’t dance, but she sang with a passion that I had so rarely seen. When she opened her eyes, she zeroed in on me for the chorus, and the bar melted away, leaving just me and her and this song to fill the void.

Oh no.

It was bad enough that I wanted her when she was likely not who she pretended to be, but to be this far gone this soon was trouble.

When the last of the music faded and the bar came back into focus, I realized everyone had stilled for her song. All eyes were on Jamie.

She finished to a silent room and then a roaring applause. Her cheeks flushed pink, and she took a moment to reorient herself before she left the stage and headed straight for me.

My breath caught at the intensity of her gaze as she prowled toward me, pinning me to the wall with her stare.