Just then, Steve walked up to the table, notepad at the ready. “Good evening. What can I get for you tonight? Would you like to hear the specials?”
“I think we’ve decided, thanks,” Wes replied, holding his hand out toward Amber, inviting her to order.
“I need to ask a question first,” she said. “How big are these pizzas of yours? If we order one to share, am I still going to be hungry after this guy here gets his hands on it?”
Steve smiled. “If you order a large, that should be plenty.”
Amber looked skeptical. “I don’t know—it’s been a long day, and he’s been crawling all over those rocks like a spider. We’d probably better do the large and some breadsticks.”
“Good choice,” Steve said, making a note. “What would you like on that pizza?”
“How about the super supreme?” Wes suggested. “It’s an everything plus everything else.”
“Sounds great,” Amber said. “Bring it on.”
“Oh, and a pitcher of root beer,” Wes added.
“All right. I’ll have that out to you as soon as it’s ready.” Steve smiled and moved off.
Just then, Kelsi and Shane walked into the dining room, and Wes grinned. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Or you could come with me.”
Amber raised an eyebrow. “Where are we going?”
“Remember Bigfoot?”
“Yes . . .” Again with the skepticism. No wonder she needed some practice trusting.
“Just follow my lead.”
He took her by the hand as they made their way between the tables. It seemed like a natural gesture, and he didn’t even think that she might not appreciate it until they were halfway across the room. But she didn’t pull back, so maybe he hadn’t offended her as much as he thought he might. Besides, he liked the way her fingers felt between his.
“Kelsi!” he said, making his voice sound breathless. “Did you smell it? Outside as you came in?”
Kelsi shook her head. “I didn’t smell anything. What’s going on?”
“Oh, man, it was awful. I swear Bigfoot was outside a little while ago. You’ve got to go check it out.”
Kelsi grabbed Shane’s arm. “Honey, you heard him—we’ve got to go check it out. It’s just outside. That’s not hurting myself—it’s being very, very careful.”
Shane gave her a look of adoring patience. “All right, all right. Let’s go check it out.”
Amber laughed as they walked away. “Your sister’s totally obsessed, isn’t she?”
“She is. And I enjoy tweaking her. I shouldn’t, I know, but it’s so fun.”
A little bit of commotion over in the corner caught Wes’s attention. “Hey, looks like Lily and her band are setting up.”
“Some of the amateurs?”
“No, some of the pre-amateur entertainment. They play out here quite a bit—you’ll like them. Let’s go catch our seats before they start.”
Once they were back at the table, Steve brought over their root beer, and Wes took a long swig. He couldn’t understand why he was so thirsty, and then he realized that being with Amber made his throat dry. There was something about the way she’d let her hair loose and bounce around on her shoulders that was just throat-drying.
Lily and her band must have warmed up earlier because they headed right into their set. As luck would have it, or destiny, their first song was about meeting someone new and connecting the first time their hands touched. Wes thought about how he’d taken Amber’s hand a moment ago, how right it felt, and his cheeks grew warm. He didn’t know if the lyrics of the song were resonating with her like they were with him, but it was almost uncomfortable, it was so uncanny. Another swig of root beer helped . . . for a minute.
The pizza was delivered hot and gooey, and Wes chuckled when he saw Amber dive into it like a ravenous lion. “What?” she asked when she looked up and saw his expression. “I told you I was starving. And this is really good stuff.”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He shook his head and took his own piece, glad for a moment to compose himself before he’d have to talk again. She just kept turning him upside down and shaking him until his teeth rattled—and he wasn’t used to being rattled.
Before the next song started, Wes wiped his mouth and leaned forward. “So, what kind of law do you practice?” he asked.
“Silly disputes, mostly. My old roommate stole my TV when he moved, that sort of thing. Like Judge Judy, only it’s my life.” She smiled and took a sip of her drink. “It’s not that bad, I guess—I mean, it pays the bills. Now that I’m a partner, though, I should get some of the better cases.”
“You’re a partner? That’s impressive.” Beautiful, smart, and successful? It was a good thing Wes’s mother was out of town or she’d be planning the wedding before they’d finished off the breadsticks.
“It’s a pretty small firm, so it’s not as impressive as it sounds, but yeah, I’m pleased to put that on my resume.”
“Your resume? As in, what you show people when you’re looking for other work?”
Her cheeks turned a little pink. “Yeah, I’m not sure I’ll be there forever. It’s a long ways from where I started, but I don’t think it’s where I want to end up.”
The song up on stage had reached the chorus, which always meant that it was louder, so Wes scooted his chair closer to hers so they could still talk. His arm brushed against hers, but again, she didn’t pull away. Another good sign. “What do you really want to be doing?”
“Family law, like Harold. But I want to reunite families, not tear them apart. Is that silly? I know—it’s silly. I can’t fix the world.”
“You can’t fix the world, but you can make it better for one family at a time.”
She turned to look at him, her eyes suddenly shiny. “Thank you.”
The song came to an end, but Wes hardly noticed. He was captivated by the look on her face. After a moment, he realized he was staring, and he cleared his throat. He didn’t want her to think he was a creepy stalker, even if he’d be more than happy to spend the rest of the weekend creepily stalking her. “So, what do you have to do in order to become a specialist in family law?”
“Well, I’ve studied it extensively, and now it’s just a matter of putting myself out there for it. But I’ve been pigeonholed in this firm—they think they know what they want me doing, and Harold’s our resident family law expert.” She shook her head. “I’m either going to have to put my foot down with these guys, rebrand myself somewhere else, or branch out on my own.”
Wes noticed that Peter, Harold, and Giles had just entered the dining room, and motioned at Steve to come over. “Would you have those three men seated on the opposite side of the room?”
“Sure,” Steve replied, moving off to make sure that happened.
Amber grinned. “What was that all about?”
“I just figured it would be really awkward for you to be on a date with your coworkers watching.”
“You’re a very perceptive man.”
“Hey, I climb rocks. That doesn’t mean I’ve got rocks for brains.”
She laughed, and he loved the sound. It was fresh and genuine, and it warmed something in the middle of his gut that he hadn’t realized needed to be warmed.
They finished their pizza, and even though they weren’t really talking anymore, Wes didn’t move his chair back. He liked being close to her. He liked the way their arms still brushed once in a while, how they reached for the root beer at the same time. It was nice. It was very nice.
Lily lifted her guitar strap off her neck and spoke into the microphone. “Now that you’ve seen how the pros do it, how would you all like to give it a try?” She was answered by a round of applause. “Great! Well, it’s Friday, and you know what that means—it’s amateur night. Come on up and show us what you’ve got. There may or may not be a prize for the best performance—Wes has donated a free climbing lesson to whoever impresses our judges most tonight.”
Amber swivele
d her head to look at him. “That’s nice of you,” she said.
“I forgot I’d agreed to do that,” he admitted, wondering what he’d gotten himself into.
“Who are the judges?” she asked.
Wes looked around and grinned. “They always sit there at the first table. Looks like tonight we have Wade, my oldest brother, and Wyatt, another brother, and then Bob, the cook at the diner.”
“No women on the panel? Isn’t that a little biased?”
“Neah. It’s always pretty fair—the judges listen to the applause more than anything. They’re mostly for show.”
“And they’re all right with that? Just being for show?”
“They don’t mind.”
The first contestant to make her way on stage was a girl who looked to be about fourteen. She picked up the guitar that had been left there for general use and plucked a few strings, then sang so quietly, Wes couldn’t make out anything at all. By the chorus, everyone in the dining room was clapping along, and that seemed to give her courage. Turned out that she wasn’t a bad singer—just a scared one.
“I know how she feels,” Amber murmured as she refilled her root beer.
“You do?”
“Yeah. I play a little.”
Wes sat back with astonishment. “Why don’t you get up there?”
Amber’s face went bright red. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Can we just forget it? Please?”
“Okay,” he said, nodding. But that was far from what he wanted.
Chapter Five
Amber knew better than to blurt out what she was thinking. As a lawyer, she had to weigh everything she said carefully. Now she wanted to disappear. Why had she just told Wes that she played the guitar? That was a carefully guarded secret—only her sister and her mom knew that she played. Well, and that one ex-boyfriend she chose not to think about. Maybe if she just sat there quietly and didn’t bring it up again, Wes would forget she’d said anything.
“How long have you played?” he asked a moment later.
So much for that great idea.
“I started tinkering around with it in junior high.” She shrugged, trying to make it no big deal.
“Hmm.” He picked up his glass, but it was empty, and so was the pitcher. He glanced around. “I don’t see our waiter—be right back.” He carried the pitcher off toward the kitchen, giving Amber a minute alone to try to compose herself.
By the time he came back with her refill, she believed her face was a normal color again. Now to change the subject and hope she could keep it changed.
“Did you see your sister come back inside? I’m curious what she thought of your little prank.”
“No, I haven’t seen her, come to think of it,” Wes replied, glancing around. He chuckled as he refilled both their glasses. “Pretty sure I’m the meanest brother ever, but what can I say? She’s just so fun to tease.”
“I think I would have liked a brother like you,” Amber replied. “It’s just me and my sister in our family, and two girls—well, things can get kind of interesting. We could have used a brother to balance things out.”
“Oh, you definitely wouldn’t have wanted a brother like me.” Wes grinned. “I’m positive that Dani and Kelsi would sell me in a heartbeat if they could.”
The next performer on stage played the harmonica, so it was a little hard to talk during their song. Amber noticed that Wes was still sitting closer to her than he had been at the start of the meal—he hadn’t moved his chair back when he got the root beer. It was nice, sort of cozy, but all very temporary, she reminded herself. She was going home in a couple of days, and it was ridiculous to think that this could be anything more than a weekend flirtation. However, weekend flirtations were awfully fun, and if she managed to squeeze in a few minutes here and there to spend with him, it certainly wouldn’t hurt anything.
After the harmonica player was another guitar player, a fairly new one, from the sound of it. The squeaking . . . Amber’s nerves were shredded before the first chorus was even half over. She thought she was hiding it pretty well, but Wes must have noticed something.
“Pretty bad, huh?” he murmured in her ear. His breath tickled.
“Yeah,” she replied.
“I bet you could do better.” He didn’t say anything else, but sat back as if to watch the rest of the performance.
Yes, she could do better. She could do a lot better. When the singer went off key in the middle of the next verse, she cringed, then sighed. She’d been worried that Wes would pester her until she got up there, but now she was pestering herself. She always had been too competitive.
“So, how do I sign up for this thing?” she asked Wes over her shoulder, and he grinned.
“I might have put you on the list while I was getting the root beer. You’re up next.”
“What?” She whirled around to face him. “You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.”
“I actually didn’t, but the look on your face right now . . .”
She slugged his arm. “You . . . grr. I don’t even know what you are.”
He just grinned more. “See? You definitely don’t want a brother like me. It would be nothing but torture all the time.”
She sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “Remind me to thank my mother for stopping after London.”
The next performer came on stage, but Amber couldn’t see anyone else waiting in the wings. If she didn’t get up there, the evening would end, and she’d lose that chance. Part of her was glad—she wouldn’t have to face possible public humiliation. But the competitive part of her kept zapping her, urging her to action.
Wes hadn’t said anything since she turned her back on him, so she finally relented and swiveled around again. “So, seriously. Do I just walk up there or what?”
He nodded. “Go up to the judges’ table, tell them you’d like to participate, and then wait your turn off to the side there.”
She stood up before she could change her mind. “Here goes.”
As she walked toward the judges’ table, she glanced over to the other side of the room to see if Peter, Giles, and Harold were still there. Sure enough, they were. Rats. Maybe she should have thought this through a little more carefully. Yes, they were over a thousand miles away from the office and they weren’t doing lawyerly things, but they were still coworkers, and work would resume as usual on Monday morning. What happened in Idaho wasn’t likely to stay in Idaho.
But it’s not like she could back out now. She’d just told Wes she’d do it, and after refusing to rock climb earlier, if she chickened out on this too, he wouldn’t respect her at all. She didn’t know him well, of course, but she had picked up on the fact that he was a doer.
She approached the three men who sat at the front table and was instantly struck at the fact that two of them had eyes the same color as Wes’s. They were definitely brothers. “I’d like a turn,” she said softly, not wanting to distract the person on stage.
One of the brothers had her jot down her name and the title of the song she’d be performing, then motioned for her to take her place off to the side of the stage. She nodded her thanks, then stood in the shadows, her heart pounding. Why was she doing this? Oh, that’s right—because she was prideful and stubborn and felt like she had to show these people how it was done. And she couldn’t back out because she didn’t want Wes to think she was chicken. Yes, all very good, responsible reasons.
Before she could go any farther down that rabbit hole, it was time to go on stage, and she walked out bravely. If she was going to do this, she might as well do it with gusto, right?
She slung the guitar strap into place and let it settle, then plucked a few strings to get the feel of them. It was super tempting to run up to her room and get her own instrument, but that would take at least five minutes. This one would work even though it didn’t feel like an extension of herself.
Wes had scooted his chair forward for a better view, which only served to make her
a little more nervous. She swallowed a few times, then dove in to her light, flirty Shania Twain song. Granted, her voice wasn’t everything she could have wanted, but her chording was solid and sure, and the audience looked like they were really enjoying it. Back in the corner, an older man pulled his wife to her feet and they started dancing. Amber really couldn’t think of a higher compliment than that.
When she finished, she gave a little bow, set down the guitar, and hopped off stage. That had been a lot more fun than she’d anticipated, but her knees were trembling, and she sat down at the table a little heavily.
Wes put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “That was fantastic,” he told her. “I’m really glad you went up there.”
“I am too,” she replied. “Now it’s a matter of seeing if my coworkers will let me live it down.”
“You think they’re going to give you a hard time?”
“I don’t know. Now that I’m a partner, maybe they’ll see me differently—I sure hope so.” Again, something she wished she’d thought of. What was this Idaho air doing to her? Or was it the really handsome, really muscular, really funny man sitting next to her? And why was she gushing?
“Here comes Wade to announce the winner,” Wes said, nodding toward the stage.
Wade, looking like an older, more serious version of Wes, stepped up to the microphone. “Folks, we’d like to thank you for coming out tonight. Let’s have a round of applause for all our contestants.”
After the clapping died down, he resumed speaking. “We had some great competition, but the judges have made their decision, and it’s unanimous. Amber Russell, you’re tonight’s winner. Come on up.”
Wes jumped to his feet, clapping loudly, as Amber made her way back on stage. Her cheeks were burning, not only from the warm stage lights, but from all the sudden attention. She’d wanted to win—that was why she’d performed—and she’d been pretty sure that she would win. So why was she almost embarrassed about it now?
She looked down at the faces of the other competitors and had the answer to her question. She’d done it for the wrong reasons. They’d come out tonight to have fun, and she’d decided to put them in their place. She could kick herself—she really could. This wasn’t a tough corporate environment—this was a place where people came to enjoy themselves. She had nothing to prove here.
Rugged Rockclimber (River's End Ranch Book 8) Page 4
