Kayla Morrison, single mother of twins, knows the answers to three questions: It's been two years since she's shared someone's bed, fourteen months since her last date, and her most recent kiss was on New Year's Eve, so it doesn't even count. When...
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The lights dimmed in the concert hall indicating the music was about to start. Kayla leaned back in her seat, relaxed from the glass of champagne in the limo and the second glass at the cocktail party with the WKFG people. She wasn't used to drinking, and the alcohol had gone right to her head, but in a good way.
Trent and Darby had been there, both very open and cordial, making her feel welcome and putting her at ease with their playful banter. She'd wondered if their good humored sparring on air was an act, but she could tell they were genuine and real. Trent was a natural hugger, throwing his arm around everyone but not in a creepy way. Darby, for all her snarky joking, was petite and curvy, quick to make eye contact and ask if you wanted another drink or crab puff.
Now, strobes began to pulse. Beams of colored light criss-crossed each other and sparks shot up into the air from both sides of the stage. The audience began chanting, "FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!"
"Maybe not the best thing to be yelling in a crowded auditorium," a male voice yelled near her ear. The man sitting beside her had leaned close so he could be heard over the noise. "I mean, right?"
Amused, she laughed and met his eyes. They were a warm brown, smiling, and slight crows feet angled out from the corners. His face was ruddy, as if he spent time outside in the sun and wind. "I'm surprised the government isn't in here arresting people as we speak," she joked.
The man's smile widened and he shrugged, drawing her attention to his broad shoulders and the swell of healthy biceps beneath the snug fit of his Country Fire "Blaze Tour" tee-shirt. She had one just like it tucked into her purse, a gift from WKFG. "Probably too busy rounding up all the pot smokers among us." He rolled his eyes, in a mocking way, like he found the idea ludicrous. Now that he'd mentioned it, she noticed the green, slightly skunky aroma of weed drifting along with the smoke from the fog machine.
"Probably," she made a face. "I take it you are pro-pot choice?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she cringed. She'd meant it to be a joke, but what if she came across as an uptight prude?
He shrugged again, mouth turning up at the corners. It was a very attractive mouth, she thought. A smile like Dennis Quaid's. Naughty. "It's not my thing," he said, "but if other people want to indulge, I'm okay with it as long as they don't sell to kids and they stay off the roads when they're using it. I prefer a good whiskey after a long day, myself. How about you?"
"Honestly? I rarely drink, but...oh, look, here's the band!"
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So, Kayla meets a good-looking guy. What do you think is going to happen? What do you think SHOULD happen?
