Page 26 of Holden: Bucked By Love (Crawford Ridge Ranch #1)

She's wearing a sparkly vest over a white T-shirt, and a long skirt with black boots.

The sparkles in the vest catch what little light there is in here.

Maybe it's easier to sing in the dark, and that's why they make it feel like a cave.

The music builds and Steph launches into a sad, sappy song about a person whose life has gone off track and who misses their love.

Her voice is good enough to keep us from laughing, but she dances like she's attempting to tell the story with her body too, and we all clap along.

Ryan is eating it up, and I keep wiggling my eyebrows at her and tipping my head toward him. She turns sideways so she can't see me, and I love it so much that I whistle and cheer as she wraps up her song.

Walker is next, and he's completely predictable with his song selection.

It's upbeat country music and he sings with his entire heart, pacing the stage in bouncing strides and trying to get us to yeehaw with him here and there—which Steph and I do happily.

Landry scrolls his phone, watching motocross videos, and Holden and Ryan watch Walker without expression.

If he's disappointed with the guys he doesn't show it.

Birdie comes in while he's singing the chorus with gusto and pauses to watch for a second. He smiles big at her, flashing teeth that he definitely has professionally whitened, and gives her an exaggerated wink. She rolls her eyes, purses her lips, and doesn't give him the time of day.

"Hey, Birdie," I lean close as she bends to set our food items down on the coffee table in the center of the room. "Want to exchange numbers and do lunch soon?"

She nods and smiles as she stands. "Yes, please." She pulls out her phone and hands it to me to program in my phone number. "I'll text you to set up a time," she says.

I nod. "Perfect. I look forward to it. "

Walker hits a high note and it shifts our attention to the stage. He has his head tipped back, his long hair flowing down his back, his mouth wide open and eyes closed, and I hear Birdie snort as his hat falls to the floor.

"Okay, but you can't give that guy my number, no matter how many times he asks," she says.

I frown, torn between wanting to laugh at Walker's antics myself, and wanting to defend the nicest guy around. Birdie must see my expression because she backpedals and holds up a hand in a staying gesture.

"I'm sorry. I know he's your family. I'm sure he's . . ." she splutters.

I hold up a hand of my own and shake my head. "It's okay, I know how he looks in moments like this, and believe me, we tease him about it. But, he's a really hard worker with a huge heart. So, just, don't assume that what you see here is who he is."

She nods. "Yeah. Not everyone is who they seem to be."

I watch her look back up at Walker. Her cheek ticks a bit and then she looks back to me. "Sorry again."

"Don't be. And please, still text me about lunch. I'm always looking to make more friends," I say with a smile. "The pickings can be slim in small towns."

"Tell me about it."

She licks her lips nervously and nods rapidly before leaving the room. I watch her go, and when I notice the music is over I look back to see Walker also watching her leave.

That leaves me and Holden. I don't want to go down as the biggest pansy in the room, so I jump to my feet and rush the stage. But, Holden had the same idea and we get there at the same time.

"No way, I was here first," I cry on a giggle as I reach for the mic .

He steps up next to me and goes for a ticklish spot on my ribcage that has me dropping the mic with a squeal.

He lunges for it, having to bend over to get it, and without thought I launch onto his back, wrapping one arm around his neck and dangling my other arm forward to grab at the mic that he's now holding away from me.

He laughs and straightens, and I hook my legs around his waist and hold so tight to his neck that he makes a gagging sound, causing me to lighten my hold.

"It's my turn," he states, but his shoulders are shaking with amusement. "I have the mic."

"You stole it from me, you rat," I respond, reaching again with my free hand. "Cheaters never prosper."

"I feel like I'm prospering right now, if you must know," he responds. He takes a few steps toward the podium where the songs are controlled, walking as though he doesn't have his wife hanging off his back like a monkey baby. "Now, which song do I want to sing?"

I squeeze his hips and use the hold to slide up his back and over one shoulder, hurriedly punching in the numbers for the song I chose. The music starts playing and he turns his head to look at me, eyes wide, mouth open, shocked.

"Traitor . . ." he starts, and then simply shakes his head.

I hop down, snag the mic and am just in time for the first words of the song to begin.

It's a pop song that was well known when we were teens, and I do the dance moves that Steph and I choreographed in our shared bedroom.

Steph claps and stands up, doing the moves with me, and every time I look at Holden he's smiling at me, fully entertained. I feel a thousand feet tall .

When I'm done, the others clap, and Holden gives me a bow before holding out his hand for the mic, which I very graciously deliver to him with a deep curtsy that makes him chuckle.

As Holden is selecting his song, Landry's friend Beau and Beau’s girlfriend, Kit, walk in, causing Landry to stand with a frown.

He looks surprised to see them here, but not in a welcoming way.

The music Holden chose has started playing, covering up any words the three of them are exchanging, and I suddenly wonder if I should record Holden, because his brother is clearly distracted.

But, before I can ask Landry, the music registers and my eyes snap to the stage where Holden is now standing, the mic in his white-knuckled grip, looking at his boots.

I can't believe what song he chose. It's our wedding song.

The country tune ramps up and tears prick behind my eyes as he starts to sing.

He's not good. His voice is soft and unsure, and he's not quite on tune, but it's my new favorite version of the song. Everyone is quiet, and Walker's hand lands on my shoulder at some point, squeezing with comfort. We all know how significant this moment is, and my heart soars with the music.

When he finishes, I stand up and clap loudly.

The others take my cue, and Walker whistles a few times while Steph gives some cheers and air pumps with her fists.

But Holden only has eyes for me as he steps off the stage.

He walks directly toward me, his eyes searching mine, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment, and I smile.

"Who says you can't sing?" I tease lightly, taking his hand in mine.

He immediately threads his fingers through mine and squeezes. "Everyone," he states .

"And everyone is right," Walker booms on a laugh, slapping Holden across the back.

The moment dissolves, and we all laugh, but Holden holds my gaze and squeezes my hand before we get caught up in whatever is brewing on the stage with Beau and Kit.

Kit is dressed in what looks to be a softball uniform, complete with cap and grass stains on her knees.

She's make-up free and looks like she's still sweaty.

Beau, on the other hand, is dressed mighty fancy, ready to perform.

And perform they do. Beau goes all in, singing his heart out to some love ballad I don't recognize.

He keeps nudging Kit to join in, but the small blonde just shakes her head and shrugs at us.

So, he takes matters into his own hands by making Kit into his doll or something.

He dances with her, and moves her around the stage, and when she tries to get down he tugs her back up.

I watch Landry grow more and more tense, and when Beau accidentally spins Kit too hard and makes her fall to her knees, all the men are on their feet moving toward her at once.

Landry gets there first. He shoves Beau in the chest, making his best friend stumble backward, and then gives Kit a hand up.

Kit runs out of the room, and Landry seems torn between following her and giving Beau a verbal beating. He chooses Kit as the last notes of the song fade. Beau rolls his eyes and follows them, and in the silent wake of whatever that was all about, Ryan stands up.

I'd honestly forgotten he was there.

"So . . . my turn?" he asks.

I look to Steph, who rolls her eyes, and we laugh awkwardly. Then Walker joins in, and finally Holden, and poor Ryan stands on the stage in his fitted tee and dapper linen shorts, wondering what's so funny.