Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats #6)(10)

“Jesus, Kat, come on. This is not what Sawyer had in mind.”

“Sawyer knows I’m an adult, and since he’s not my mother, I don’t really care,” she shot back just as the first few bars of a pop song came on. Mark, the contestant, looked around a little wildly as if trying to place the music before the lyrics came around, hoping for a hint somewhere.

Then it hit her, the song playing. It must have occurred to Mark at the same time, because his eyes grew wide and he hung his head a little as the entire bar broke out into raucous applause at the choice.

Britney Spears’s “Hit Me Baby One More Time.”

But with a little coaxing from his buddies, and some catcalls from the bartenders, Mark started getting into it. Verse one, he was pretty timid. Verse two, he added a few moves with his feet. But by the time the final chorus was playing, he was dancing all over the bar, shaking his ass like he was wearing one of those plaid miniskirted schoolgirl outfits.

Kat threw her head back and laughed at the sight, which put her snugly in the crook of Michael’s arm and neck, but she didn’t give a damn. The whole thing was hilarious, and Mark was a fantastic sport about it. When Mark ended the lip-sync song by jumping up, non-mic-holding hand thrust in the air, head back, Kat clapped as hard as she could, yelling encouragement.

That was definitely not something she’d be anxious to compete against. With a grin, she sipped her beer and looked behind her to her agent-appointed guardian. “Come on, that was fun, admit it.”

“No,” he said sternly.

“You’re the worst,” she sang, poking him in the ribs a little for emphasis. “Smile already, or your face will freeze like that. You’ll spend the rest of your life scaring little old ladies and small children.”

His lips twitched as if fighting back a smile, but he just shook his head in denial. “I’d rather just head home.”

“Well, feel free. The door’s that way.” She waved her hand toward the left, then sighed when he nodded in the opposite direction. “Or that way. Regardless, I can get home the same way I got here.”

Mark was already off the bar and the redhead back on as Kat waved the empty glass of her beer toward Sissy. The raven-haired beauty came up and grabbed the glass but didn’t step back to watch the show as the rest of the bartenders did.

“That was quite an act to follow,” the redhead said, cooing and playing the audience brilliantly. “So let’s see who can top that. Hmm.” Scanning the crowd, she looked for her next contestant.

“Right here!” Sissy yelled out, grabbing Kat’s hand and thrusting it in the air, jumping and waving to catch the leader’s attention. “I’ve got her right here, Red!”

“Perfect!” Clapping, the woman aptly nicknamed Red motioned for Kat to join her on the bar.

“What?” Kat pulled her hand away and glared at Sissy. “What the hell?”

“Go up there!” the bartender motioned, her red lips framing a stunning smile. “Go on, you know you’ll have fun.”

“I can’t… can’t do that!” Kat stammered. So much for all that bravado. She’d danced on court, she’d dived into pools… but she wouldn’t lip sync in front of a bar of strangers? What was wrong with her?

Maybe Manny’s aversion to fun was already getting to her.

“Just go have a good time. That’s what you’re here for, right?” Sissy pulled at her arm a little as if she were going to drag her across the bar. “Give it a try. If you hate it, just stop and hop down. Nobody’s going to make you stay up there.”

“Kat,” came Michael’s warning growl.

And it was that growl—almost like a dare—that pushed her into clambering up onto the bar and holding out her hand for the mic.



Fuck me sideways, what is this chick doing?

But Michael already knew the answer as she stood up there in her simple denim shorts, plain white shirt and five dollar flip-flops and reached for the mic with shaking hands.

Shaking hands? That was not what he expected. This chick exuded confidence and seemed to love being the center of attention.

Adrenaline, maybe. He knew guys who got the shakes from it before each game and went on to play their hearts out.

She took the mic and stood there, looking a little shell-shocked while the bombshell redhead got down off the bar.

“Hey, are you Michael Lambert?” someone by his shoulder asked.

Turning, Michael gave a short nod to the woman beside him and kept watching.

“Can I have your autograph?” The woman started digging in her purse, stuffing what looked like her entire arm down there to rattle around looking for something for him to sign. “I… Let’s see here, I… oh. How about you just sign my arm?” She pulled out a pen and gestured to her forearm.

He’d learned early on that was a danger zone he didn’t step foot in, no matter what patch of skin he was offered. “Sorry, that’s not something I— Oh God,” he moaned as he recognized the first strains of Taylor Swift’s “I Knew You Were Trouble.”

Kat looked thoughtful for a moment, then picked up on the tune. Without a second thought, Michael walked up to the spot at the bar Kat left open and sat down, elbows on the bar, not sure whether he wanted to order a whisky and give in to the madness or grab one of her ankles and yank her over his shoulder and make a break for it.