“I thought you might bring your new girlfriend here,” Bray said. He had been on the other side of the country on a mission for LSI and had just gotten back into town. “Babs says it’s getting serious.”
“I thought about it. I asked if she had plans today but she said one of her music groups was working.”
“So, does Babs have it right? Is it getting serious?” Cobb asked.
A grin spread across his face. “I guess you could say that. We finally had several dates that didn’t involve the orchestra, although I’ve got no complaints listening to her play.”
Mace turned around and held his gaze. “Well, bring her by some time. The other women will want to check her out.”
That thought sent shivers throughout him. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. Even the quietest of your women tend to get a little wild. I just don’t see Christina doing that. I wouldn’t want to overwhelm her.”
“Why? She’s not breakable!” Josh laughed.
Shooting a stink eye toward Josh, he said, “Yeah, well, when you get ready to introduce a woman to this group, you can throw out a comment from the peanut gallery.”
“It’s just… damn, it’s hard to find someone special,” Cobb grumbled.
“Don’t I know it!” Bray agreed.
Mace pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. “Sylvie said they just snagged two tables in the food tent and pushed them together. She said the others have the food ordered and by the time we get there, it’ll be ready.”
“I hate to miss any of the games, but I’m getting hungry,” Rank said, standing.
The others followed along, making their way toward the huge tent where music was playing, laughter was ringing out, and the scent of food pulled everyone along.
Reaching the table, Clay kissed Nora on the cheek and said, “Thanks for getting my food.”
She leaned forward and winked. “Tate says the others are ragging on you about the girl you’re dating. I really wish you’d introduce us to her.” Before he had a chance to respond, she threw her hands up in front of her. “I get that she’s quiet. I am, too, but if she’s special to you, then we’d like to meet her.”
“Maybe I’ll see if her string quartet or another group she’s in besides just the orchestra is playing sometime, and we can get a group of us to go,” he suggested.
As Tate wrapped his arm around his wife, Nora glanced between them and smiled. “I think that sounds lovely.”
Sitting down to eat, he had to admit the women had bought everything they possibly could. The food trucks had made quite a bit of money on the hungry Keepers. The music group on stage consisted of one man with a guitar and the other one singing Irish lullabies.
As they finished, everyone clapped and the MC stepped up to the microphone. “Okay, you’ve had a little soft music while some of you were eating, but now it’s time to raise the roof! Let’s give a big welcome to Amhrán M'anama!”
Clay watched in amazement as a drummer took to the stage and began pounding out a beat to the shouts and cheers in the crowd. He was soon joined by two long-haired young men in kilts, both playing bagpipes, their boots stomping the time on the wooden platform. The music was lively, filling the tent, and everyone tapped their feet in time to the beat. Another man with long hair pulled back into a ponytail, a kilt, and heavy boots ran onto the stage, heading straight to the microphone. He began singing a Celtic rock song.
“Damn, they’re good!” Walker said, his head bobbing to the beat.
“I love this music!” Babs agreed, jumping to her feet and clapping.
Clay grinned and nodded. He had no idea if this band was the same as what he’d heard in the remote bar but couldn’t deny that the music was just as good. The men on stage continued belting out the fast tune, the vocalist encouraging the crowd to clap. Suddenly, another musician bounded onto the stage, causing the crowd to cheer even more. This member was a woman, wearing a miniskirt in a Scottish plaid, spike-heeled boots that went above her knees, and a tight black tank top showing off her curves. Her long, dark, wavy hair tossed wildly about her head as she danced and twirled while playing the fiddle.
Her violin was electric with a wireless amplifier, giving her the freedom to move around as her sound meshed perfectly with the bagpipes. In awe, Clay watched as her hair swirled about her head in wild disarray. Her fingers and bow flew across the strings and as the music mingled with the bagpipes and the drums, her feet alternated between skipping across the stage to the beat and twirling in circles. She was a whirling dervish, never stopping, never hesitating as the music continued to pour forth.
“Holy hell, she’s fuckin’ fantastic!” Blay enthused.
Clay agreed, but a strange wave of possessiveness grabbed hold, and he fought to keep from telling Blay to keep his eyes in his head and his tongue in his mouth. As soon as that thought slammed into him, guilt followed quickly. Christina… I’m involved with Christina. He had never stepped out on a girlfriend, thinking men who cheated were weak. But watching the stage as the fiddler continued to twirl and toss her long hair, seeming to emit the lively music from deep within her soul, he cursed his weakness.
On the last note of the song, she turned toward the drummer, laughing as he grabbed his whiskey and downed it in one gulp, much to the delight of the crowd who roared with approval.
“Meet the members of Amhrán M'anama,” the lead singer called out. “I’m Steven. Dunk is on the drums. Mike and Jamie are on the bagpipes. And, I know you want to know our fiddler… Tiny Monroe!”
The crowd stomped, clapped, and shouted as Clay took to his feet to get a better look at the dark-haired sprite who made magic spark from her fingers. She tossed her hair from her face, offering a wide smile to the admiring gathering. It was when a pair of large, blue-green eyes landed on him, growing wide as her mouth dropped open in surprise that it hit him—he was staring at Christina.
8
Christina?
“That’s your Christina?” Tate asked, standing next to him.
Not realizing he’d spoken aloud, he was barely aware of the other Keepers and women as Christina stepped down from the stage and walked through the crowd toward him. The band was taking a break while the Massed Bagpipe Bands marched onto the athletic field to welcome the athletes back from lunch. Not replying, he watched as she continued forward, only hesitating long enough to accept the compliments from the crowd. She stopped directly in front of him, her boots giving her enough added height so that her eyes now came to his chin.
Her chest still heaved with exertion and she pressed her ruby-red lips together as she held his gaze. “I had no idea you were going to be here, Clay. Was this what you were going to invite me to?”
He opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. Sucking in a breath, he finally nodded. “Yeah.” A strange battle of emotions hit him—glad to see her but pissed he knew nothing about this part of her life. “Where are your glasses?” As soon as the words popped out, he winced at the ridiculous question.
She grabbed a handful of hair and pulled the heavy tresses away from her face. “I have contacts. I don’t like them, but it makes dancing around easier. Otherwise, I’d have to keep pushing my glasses up when I sweat.”