Page 2

With that, she waves as she walks toward the front of the stage, where a group of girls wrap her in their embraces.

“Wilder, get your ass over here,” I command, my eyes remaining trained on her retreating form, as Carson immediately does as he’s told.

“What’s up, Benny ?” he asks, singsonging my nickname like an asshat.

“You and I are going to sing a duet, Carsey ,” I inform him.

“Yeah, as much as I’d love to give you the assist up on stage . . . I’m a shit singer,” he tells me.

“Do I look like I care if you’re the next American Idol? I wasn’t asking,” I deadpan .

Carson has always been intimidated by me, and I fully plan to take advantage of that now. “Right. Not asking. Cool, cool, cool. So, what exactly are we singing?”

Smacking him on the back, I call out over my shoulder, “You’ll see when we get up there.”

I watch as Carse beelines back to Griff and Jax while I go up to the emcee to add our names to the lineup for karaoke night. We’re first on the fucking list, but at least that means we don’t have to follow someone like Jackson.

The shots have me feeling warm and a bit hazy, but I’m still in control—just how I like it. As the captain of our team, I’ve quickly garnered the control freak label, but I’m more than okay with it.

Standing off to the side of the dance floor as I await our turn, I take in the groups of dancers. The bride-to-be, McKenna, is dancing with her two college volleyball teammates and Dakota.

Dakota is McKenna and Griffin’s daughter’s nanny, who just so happens to be living with Carson. I seriously can’t keep up with all the crazy shit they’ve got going on, but they’re some of the few people I let into my close circle.

The emcee says it’s our turn, so I nod to Carson before going on stage.

When the starting notes of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” sound through the speakers, my cocky smirk accompanies a rueful wink toward Little Red. She shakes her head at my antics but raises her beer to me in salute.

My hands tremble with nerves. God, it’s been a long time since I’ve been up on a stage singing. Taking a deep breath, I bring the mic to my mouth and sing the opening lines, all without taking my eyes off the auburn hair bombshell .

She stares back at me, utterly bewildered at the fact that I can, in fact, sing. When she mouths, “I’ll be damned,” to me, I have to fight back the chuckle rumbling to life in my chest.

As I sing the song’s last bars, Red tucks her beer bottle into her arm, brings both hands up to her mouth, and lets out a shrill whistle. After securing the mic back in the stand, I make my way over to her.

“So, was my mom lying to me my whole life?” I inquire.

“She may have been telling the truth. But it’s hard to know if I’m just nice and buzzed or if you actually sounded good. Perhaps a private show is needed,” she jokes, or at least I think she was joking. When her eyes widen, I realize she most definitely didn’t mean to say that last part.

I attempt to bite back my chuckle before asking, “How am I supposed to give you a private show if I don’t even know your name?”

“What about this—if fate puts us in the same place at the same time again, I’ll not only tell you my name, but I’ll give you my number too,” she suggests, stepping closer to me.

Holding back my groan of frustration, I sigh instead. Anyone who knows me knows I don’t leave anything up to fate—doing so means I forfeit control of a situation, and I don’t lose control.

“You’re killing me, Little Red.”

She tries to hide her cheeky grin as she takes a pull from her beer, but I don’t miss how her nose wrinkles and the upturn of her cheeks. I’m so fascinated watching her red lips wrap around the lip of the bottle that I don’t realize her friends have called out for her.

“Looks like we’re headed to the next bar on the birthday girl’s list,” she tells me. “Thanks for serenading me tonight, Benny.”

I’m not sure what possesses me to do so, but I grip the top of my straw cowboy hat with one hand and nod my head in goodbye to her.

What the fuck has gotten into me ?

Red just shakes her head at me before turning to walk away, her hips swaying with each step.

I’m not a man who believes in fate, but if she were placed in my path again, I don’t think there’d be a chance in hell I’d let her slip through my fingers so easily. The odds of that happening, though, are slim to none.

One Month Later

Loosening the collar of my dress shirt, I curse Griffin for about the tenth time today.

I’m a great public speaker, but I’m shit with emotions, so I can’t for the life of me figure out why he and McKenna asked me to be the officiant of their wedding. Not only did he wrangle me into that, but I’m also performing their first dance song with Jackson.

I managed to officiate my first—and last—wedding ceremony without too many hiccups. Not that I expected any different, but the groom didn’t wait for my queue to kiss his bride—not once, but twice.

Slamming back my second shot of Jameson, I set the glass on the bar and turn to find Jax.

“You ready for your big debut, brother?” he mocks, knowing I hate that I’m about to perform on stage in front of people. I’m not nearly buzzed enough for this.

Turning back to the bartender, I nod for a refill.

“One more,” I murmur to Jax .

“Go easy, B. I don’t need you increasing your odds of yacking on stage. You were stone-cold sober the night of the high school talent show,” he reminds me as if I need that mental image at this fucking moment.

Narrowing my eyes at my idiot brother, I throw back the shot without breaking eye contact. The whiskey burns down my throat, and I welcome its familiarity.

I grab my Martin acoustic guitar and head to the makeshift stage set up in the backyard of McKenna and Griffin’s cabin. The ceremony was in the backyard of McKenna and Carson’s parents’ cabin, but the reception tent, if you can even call it that, is in the adjoining yard next door.

Jackson joins me on stage and sits on a barstool next to mine, adjusting our mic stands before giving me a reassuring nod.

With one deep breath, I strum the opening chords of Restless Road’s “Growing Old With You.” Jackson’s heavy baritone resonates through the tent and I harmonize with him as Griff swirls Kenna around the dance floor.

Allowing myself to get lost in the music—the familiar feel of the strings beneath my fingers—I don’t feel nervous when my deep bass voice booms through the speakers as we finish singing the song’s bridge.

The second I strum the final chords of the song, I push aside the mic and set my guitar on the stand before making a beeline to the bar.

“Whiskey, neat, please,” I tell the bartender, who nods before looking over my shoulder. Leaning against the bar, I see he’s looking at Dakota.

“Oh, um, I’ll have a tequila sour, please,” she requests before wringing her hands together and looking up at me. “Who knew the karaoke night wasn’t a one-off?” she asks me.

I turn and face her, quirking a skeptical brow .

“Good job up there. I didn’t know you could play the guitar,” Dakota rambles.

“Thanks,” I murmur just as an elbow nudges my arm.

“Hey, Benny. Isn’t that the girl you were drooling over at Griff’s bachelor party?” Carson asks, coming up out of nowhere.

My head whips to where Carson is pointing across to the other side of the bar, and I notice a woman standing with her back to me.

Her long, auburn hair flows to the middle of her back, just above the hem of her backless navy dress.

I watch with rapt attention as the redhead turns around. My jaw drops as recognition sinks in.

“How is she here right now? I thought only family, close friends, and teammates were invited. Does McKenna know her? She has to, right? I mean, why else would she be here?” I rattle off. Nervously rambling like this is completely out of character for me, and Carson must notice too.

He gives me a skeptical look before shrugging his shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe she lives on this lake, and that’s why she was at the bar that night, and now she’s . . . I don’t know, wedding crashing or something. I have a good idea—why don’t you go ask her?”

I shoot an unamused glare at Carson. “Funny.”

“Well, if you’re not going to shoot your shot, I’m going to at least shoot mine,” Carson says, turning toward Dakota with an outstretched hand. “May I have the honor of this dance, my lady?” he asks, and Dakota’s cheeks heat before she nods.

Grabbing my whiskey from the bartender, I take a drink before making my way toward my mystery woman.

I try to compose myself as I approach the redhead who has taken up residence in my head over the past month. But my mouth dries as I take in the way her backless dress showcases her creamy skin full of freckles .

Bending down, I whisper in her ear, “So are we wedding crashing now?”

Her spine stiffens before she turns, her eyes widening as she takes me in. “Benny? What are you doing here?” she asks incredulously, a dazzling smile spreading across her red lips.

“I’ve gotta admit, I never had faith that fate would intervene, yet here we are. So tell me, Little Red, are you wedding crashing now, or are you here for the bride or groom?”

“A bit of all the above, I suppose. My parents are friends of both the bride and groom’s parents, but I’m not sure I was necessarily invited.

I finished my summer class early and was able to make it up here for the reception.

Though it looks like I missed some of the action, I was hoping to make it in time for the first dance, but no such luck. ”

“Summer class? Which college do you go to?” I ask as I bring my glass of whiskey to my lips.

“Oh, no. It’s actually for high school.”

I nearly spit out my drink. Using the sleeve of my dress shirt, I wipe my lips before sputtering, “Excuse me? I think I misheard you.”

“Yeah, no. The girl whose birthday party I was at—she was my nanny growing up.”