Dead in Her Tracks (Rogue Winter #2)(18)

“Fuck me,” Bruce muttered. “I don’t know why she doesn’t do that for money.”

Zane often heard Stevie sing while she was cooking or driving, but during those times her singing was casual and carefree. On the stage she caught her groove and her emotions came through in the lyrics. She met his gaze from across the room and everyone else faded away.

The only one who could ever reach me was the son of a preacher man.

“Wow. She’s good,” said a new voice next to Zane, pulling him out of the moment. “You’re a lucky bastard.”

Zane turned to see Andrew Reynolds watching Stevie. He wanted to punch the developer for destroying the moment.

“You’re still in town, Andrew?” At least he seemed sober tonight. He smelled of soap and his button-down shirt was freshly ironed.

A shadow crossed the developer’s face. “No reason to go home.” He clamped his lips together, and Zane knew he was holding back.

“What happened?” Zane hoped he wouldn’t regret asking.

A bloodshot gaze met his. “Wife called to tell me she’s filing for divorce. Merry f*cking Christmas.”

Regret flooded Zane. “That sucks.” Andrew didn’t seem like the type to share his life history, and Zane really didn’t want to know more. He was moving forward in his relationship; it seemed like bad luck to acknowledge crumbling ones.

“Guess I’ll hang around a few more days for the party,” Andrew said. “I’m in no rush to go back home. Life moves a little slower down here. Drove me crazy at first, but now I kinda like it. Who knows? Maybe this trip was fate. Perhaps I’ll talk to the boss and request I be put in charge of the O’Rourke project.” He folded his arms across his chest, and Zane caught sight of the bruises and scratches on the backs of his hands.

“What happened to your hands, Andrew?” He took a harder look at the developer, his brain racing. The man had a mobile job, he was frequently on the road, and he’d arrived in Solitude just as things were going to hell.

Andrew studied his hands, twisting his lips. “I might have let off a little steam on the bathroom door of my motel. Charlie already added it to my bill. How much do you want to bet he doesn’t replace the door and leaves it with gaping holes for the next guest?”

Zane knew it wouldn’t be replaced.

Applause and whistles sounded through the hall, and Zane swore as he realized he’d missed the rest of Stevie’s song. She bobbed in a brief curtsy, her face shining with pleasure, and handed the mic back to Donald, who appeared starstruck. She jumped off the stage and worked her way toward Zane.

“Donald said he expects your medication soon and he’ll give you a call,” she told Bruce.

“Let me know when you want to perform at a gig,” Bruce said. “I know you think the guys I play with are a bunch of irresponsible hacks, but I could find you solo work without a problem.”

“Hotel lounges every weekend? No thanks.” She held Zane’s gaze, giving a wide smile. “I like my day job.”

His leg muscles went weak.

A smooth country ballad came through the speakers, and two couples dropped Patsy’s tasks to start spinning about the dance floor.

Stevie held out a hand to Zane. “Dance with me?”

He didn’t pause. He grabbed her hand and ditched Bruce and Andrew.

He held her tight to him, guiding her through a simple two-step. “Will your mother mind?” he asked.

“Not one bit. She can turn off the music if she wants people to get back to work.”

Zane glanced at Patsy, who was beaming at the three dancing couples. “Your mom is a romantic. She won’t be the one to turn it off.” He nodded at a couple in their seventies who had joined the dancers, the man looking at his wife as if she were the only woman in the room.

Someday.

He looked into Stevie’s brown eyes and wanted the music to never end. Simply being around this woman made every day better. Happiness welled up inside him, and he couldn’t stay quiet. “Marry me, Stevie. Make me the happiest man in Solitude.”

Stevie missed a step, her eyes widening, and he held her tighter.

“Don’t say it’s too soon. We both know we’ve never felt anything else like this.” Determination flooded him. He was through with holding his tongue and being patient. “I want to grow old with you and hear you sing to my children. I want to dance with you when we’re seventy and look into your eyes for the rest of my life.”

She blinked rapidly, her gaze never leaving his.

“You feel it too; I know you do. Just say you will.”

Perhaps it was Andrew’s announcement of the end of his marriage that’d made Zane realize he was tired of waiting for his to start. He and Stevie had been in a holding pattern for seven months. It was time to land.

“Okay.” She paused and her brows narrowed as she evaluated what she’d just said. “Okay,” she repeated more forcefully, accepting her decision. “I’ll marry you, Zane.” A wide smile filled her face, and she stopped their dance. “That feels wonderful to say.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and lifted her, spinning in a circle. “I love you, Stevie Taylor.” Dizziness swamped him, or maybe it was pure elation. He didn’t care. He spun her twice more and set her down. Turning to the small crowd, he lifted a fist in exultation. “She said she’d marry me!”