Satisfaction Guaranteed(20)

Piper: Now is not the time for dissecting a popular saying. I only asked because I know what his voice does to you.



Sloane: It melts me.



Piper: Everything about him melts you. Remember how you felt way back when?



Sloane: Yes. Like I was falling in love.



Piper: And remember, too, how you felt when he ended it.



Sloane: But it had to end.



Piper: I don't dispute that. I just encourage you to remember how much it hurt when it did.



Sloane: Like a sledgehammer. Hey, have I ever told you you’re nothing if not practical?



Piper: I have to be. I have to look out for the people I love. And I'm looking out for your heart. Plus, you still have The Thing to deal with.



Sloane: Don’t remind me of The Thing.



Piper: I just want The Thing to be fixed. Hey, maybe he can fix The Thing! Why didn’t we think of that?



Sloane: And I thought you were trying to keep me on the straight and narrow.



Piper: I was, till I thought about the possibility of reversing The Thing.



Sloane: I’m going to throw this turtleneck at you right now.



Piper: Good, then hopefully you won’t wear it tonight. For the love of fashion, please change.



Sloane: That's a promise.





15





I never aspired to be a rock star, a crooner, or a Broadway belter.

I certainly didn’t have it on my vision board to be a lounge singer. (If I had a vision board, which I don’t and have never had.)

Singing was one of those things that I discovered I could simply do, though I never did anything with it. Growing up, there was no glee club, band, or a cappella group for me.

I started singing out of necessity.

Like many who came before me and many who will come after, I was forced to play the piano by my parents.

There was no love at first note. More like loathing.

I wanted to play sports, throw a ball, run across a field. But twice a week, I had to sit down and play. During one lesson my mother suggested I sing along to make the songs that—as I’d put it—bored me to tears more interesting.

The words somehow unlocked the music, and suddenly, piano was fun. It was a game I was good at. A chance, frankly, to show off.

Once I realized I could do it, singing was like juggling. It was a party trick. I was the guy who could nail “Happy Birthday” at a group dinner, I was a pro at “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” at Yankee Stadium, and when Christmas rolled around and you needed someone to belt out “Deck the Halls,” I was your guy.

Then Sloane came around. She cheered the loudest when I sang karaoke at the charity event the night we met.

Later, during one of our dates, she said, “You should just do it. You have the voice for it. Go sing at a club.”

I laughed it off. I had no aspirations to be Michael Bublé, thank you very much.

“But you don’t have to make money at it,” she’d said. “You don’t have to make albums. You could just make music for fun. Think about it. Do it because it’s something that you enjoy. Do it because it’s an adventure.”

Her idea weaved its way under my skin as she encouraged me.

“You have a real passion and a real gift. Don’t let it pass you by. Singing doesn’t have to be everything. But maybe it can be just enough to be your adventure.”

She was right. It has been a fantastic journey. And for the first time since that fateful night I met her, I’m singing with her in the house.

All I have to do is remember she’s not mine.

She can’t be mine.

None of the obstacles between us have vanished. Her father is still my business partner. He’s absolutely my mentor.

In fact, the hurdles are stacked even higher now that Sloane and I are working in the same damn space every day.

But tonight, we’re here.

Gin Joint feels about as far away from the clinic as North Dakota is to Tahiti.

Tonight is for Tahiti.





*



I’m not nervous. I’m fired up when she walks in at the start of my set looking so damn blonde. Her golden hair cascades down her back and curls over her shoulders in soft waves. Her little black dress hugs her hips, and the silver pendant resting against her pale skin draws my eyes to her chest.

But her eyes lure me in.

They always have. They did that night I met her at a fundraiser for several local shelters. This was long before she’d started hers, back when she’d just finished her bachelor’s degree and was trying to figure out what to do next.

I was already a vet, searching for a new job. We connected in an instant when I sang, and I knew I had to meet the gorgeous blonde in the front row.

As soon as I stepped off the stage, I made a beeline to her.

We shared a drink, then we shared a night.

Our connection was instant and intense, and more than physical attraction. I hadn’t experienced that type of electric chemistry before, and even though I wanted her beneath me in my bed, I also enjoyed spending time with her. Her wit, her charm, her confidence—they hooked me. She was younger than I was. Twenty-two to my twenty-eight, and while that’s not a big difference, neither was it the reason I took it slow. There was something worth slowing down for with her.