Page 25 of Holden: Bucked By Love (Crawford Ridge Ranch #1)

Leni

We're back at The Two Step and Holden won't get out of the truck.

Steph brought Ryan this time, and the two of them gave up and went inside.

When Landry and Walker arrived in their own trucks they shot me a wave and went inside, not bothering to offer any assistance.

I don't think anyone is surprised that he's folding, and I'm wondering if inviting other people was a good idea.

Seems like maybe we should have flown solo tonight.

I adjust the strap of my tank top and bite at my lips while I try to figure out how to handle my husband in this moment.

He's a little resistant to this particular Buck-It List item, and I'm on a see-saw of my own here.

Ever since I caught him sleeping on the couch during that huge thunderstorm I've been determined to see this list through, for us, because we need this.

But I haven't told him about how much it meant to me to see him there, protecting us in his way, or about the new conviction it created in me, and I'm not sure now is the time.

It might feel like manipulation, and I want him to want this organically.

Frankly, it's hard to want to karaoke organically .

Muted music sounds from the big, wooden structure, and dim lights shine through dirty windows, making the parking lot a place of shadows—a perfect hiding spot.

"I understand that karaoke is not everyone's cup of tea . . ." I begin, pulling at a strand of hair that tickles my shoulder, "but . . ."

He looks at me with pursed lips. "It's no one's cup of tea. It's embarrassing. I don't even sing."

I nod, not bothering to mention that both Walker and Steph practically begged to come along because it is, indeed, their cup of tea. I wasn't expecting Ryan, and when he climbed in the back seat of the truck, Steph gave me a stuff it look, which made me want to do anything but keep my mouth shut.

Instead of pointing all of that out, I respond with, "I don't sing either, but the point is that we're doing something out of our . . ."

". . . comfort zone," we say together, only his tone is a little more sarcastic than mine, and it makes me grin.

"Exactly. The same old routine wasn't working, you know?" I say.

The reminder of why we're here, and the reality of our still-separated situation, has him looking at the double entrance doors with a scowl. His hat is sitting on his knees, pressed up against the steering wheel as he fiddles with it, and he tips his head back and forth.

"The kids won't know if we actually sing or not," he says thoughtfully, like he's found a loophole he'd like to exploit.

"Actually," I hedge.

He sighs, his broad shoulders sagging. "Mason asked Landry to record it, didn't he?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"That explains why he's here. "

Landry, unlike Walker, doesn't need the attention of the entire world and would not volunteer to be there.

But, our kids are too young to be at a bar/dance hall/karaoke place like this, and they really want to make sure we're living up to our bargain.

Landry is the best choice to video, considering Walker is a wild card on nights like this and might forget in the wake of floral perfume and dolled-up hair.

I don't mind, though. I mean, I do mind about singing into a microphone in front of people, but I don't mind that they want proof that it happened. I'd be the same.

Holden glances at me, and in the darkness of his truck cab, his eyes are the same color as his black denim shirt.

He left his raggedy cowboy hat home tonight and brought a clean, black hat, but he's still wearing faded jeans and worn boots.

I find myself appreciating his look while I wait for him to make a decision.

"Look," I finally say after a minute of silence, "I'm going to go in and do karaoke with our friends and family. You don't have to if you don't want to. I understand."

"What about the kids?" he asks.

It's sort of the wrong question, in my mind. I want him to be doing this for us. The kids were a good motivator to get us working together again, but by this time shouldn't it be less about them and more about our relationship?

I shrug, miffed. "You'll have to figure that out, I guess."

I turn to go, my own boots stirring up dust as I take a step, but before I get to the entrance of The Two Step, he's caught up and wrapped a warm hand around my elbow. I stop walking and he comes around to face me, blocking the light from the building .

"I don't want to only do this for the kids," he says, his words sounding somewhat forced. "It's for me too."

Still not an us, but I'll see it as progress. "Oh?"

He nods and I watch his throat work as he swallows.

"I want to . . ." His lips work while he figures out what he's trying to say, and I wait patiently.

"I want to change the status quo. I don't know that we can go back, or whatever, but I want to have what we had before. I want to have fun with you."

I'm glad I waited, because those words were worth hearing. I smile and place a hand against his chest. "I want that too."

He grimaces, but chuckles at the same time. "This isn't fun, though. Maybe it's doing damage to our goal?"

I pat his chest once and start walking again. He releases my arm and falls in beside me. "It's one song," I state as he reaches around me to open the door. "After that, we can sit back and watch everyone else."

"One song," he mumbles as I enter, sliding past him. "Together?"

I look at him over my shoulder. "You know what the list says. Solo."

We get inside and hook a left, past the bar and down a hall to where there's a smaller, darkened room with a little stage and a mic stand. The Two Step really has it all, which happens a lot in rural areas. You have to diversify to satisfy.

Steph, Ryan, and Landry are all flopped on scattered couches that have seen better days, while Walker is standing near a table using a remote to flash through a list of possible song options on the screen.

I join Steph and Ryan on their couch and watch the screen a moment before realizing Holden is still standing in the doorway like a frozen fainting goat who is about to go down .

He's reading the list, looking like he'll bolt at any moment, but before he can, a waitress comes up behind him and politely asks if he can scoot aside so that she can come take our drink or snack orders.

Holden, in his politeness, nods at her and comes farther in.

As he steps aside, I recognize the waitress who'd been here when we came line dancing.

Her gorgeous red hair is up in a high ponytail tonight and she has on a tee that has The Two Step logo across the front.

"Birdie," I greet with a cheery wave, and her eyes light in recognition as she beelines over to me.

"Leni, right?" she asks, glancing around the room. Her eyes land on Walker who has suddenly decided to puff out his chest awkwardly, and she raises her eyebrows at me. "Does he need physical therapy or something?" she asks. "Because that looks unnatural and painful."

Landry and Holden crack up as Walker resumes a normal posture without his expression even shifting. He takes her insult with a shrug as he goes back to looking at song options.

"You guys are not the typical karaoke crowd," Birdie says as she tilts her head toward Holden.

"I'd have put money on never seeing your husband inside this room.

" Her eyes land on Landry—who wasn't with us last time—and she offers him a smile, which has Walker scoffing under his breath.

"And you? Where do you fit in?" she asks him.

Landry stands, tugging down the front of his blue suede vest, and then tipping the brim of his hat as he takes a few steps to shake her hand. His grin is warm and kind, but not flirtatious, as he responds to her question.

"Landry Crawford. Youngest brother. I'm here to film and nothing more," he says in a firm tone that has Birdie grinning. "This is not, and never will be, my idea of a good time."

"All right," she says. "What is your idea of a good time? "

I watch with a smirk as Birdie warms to a man who obviously isn't flirting with her. Walker watches too, his eyes slitted, as does Steph, and I know what we'll be gossiping about next.

"I'm not sure telling you would make you like me more," Landry grins, his blue eyes dancing as he uses one hand to smooth over his goatee. "Let's just say, I probably should have grown out of it years ago, but when it's true love, it lasts."

Birdie laughs, and the rest of us join in. Landry's love of motorcycles and speed is, indeed, something his parents have often told him he's too old for.

"Fair enough. And you?" She looks to Holden. "You actually singing?"

"Sadly," he mutters. "Thanks to a promise I made."

Birdie's green eyes crinkle up. "I like a man who makes good on his word."

"Only a loser wouldn't," Walker pipes in, and Birdie doesn't bother to look his way when she replies.

"Well, I guess I've known a few losers in my time then." Her tone has gone from playful to sad, and I wonder once again what brought her here. Her body visibly stiffens and she paints on another smile. "What can I get y'all?"

We give our orders for drinks and chicken wings, and then Birdie disappears, promising to return with it soon. As I watch her walk away, I promise myself I'll invite her to lunch when she comes back.

"Is everyone ready?" Walker claps his big hands and stands, stretching the seams of his denim shirt as he does.

"Nope," Holden says, making the entire room laugh.

"I'm first," Steph says, stepping in front of Walker, who clearly wanted to go first, and taking her place on the stage .