Touch of Sapphire [Midnight Falls 16] (The Lynn Hagen ManLove Collection) by Lynn Hagen

Author:Lynn Hagen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Published: 2024-06-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“Alister!” Paris squealed when he saw his bestie at a table with Milo, Atlas, and Sam. “Bitch, give me a hug!”

His best friend’s pale blue eyes lit up as bright as a summer sky. He jumped up from his seat and ran to meet Paris, the two damn near tackling each other.

“I didn’t know you would be here.” Paris leaned back to smile at the guy. They’d only been apart since noon, but it felt like a lifetime.

“It’s karaoke night, and they dragged me here.” Alister had a goofy grin on his face. “Consider yourself lucky you didn’t show up twenty minutes ago,” he said. “Two guys were up there singing, but it sounded more like cats dying.”

Paris laughed. “You were just waiting for me to get here,” he teased, although neither of them had known the other would be there.

Cannon kissed Paris’s cheek then joined Kellen, Colt, and Morgan at the table. Paris liked that his mate gave him space instead of hovering. There was nothing worse than a clingy man.

“I see you two are hitting if off fabulously.” Alister’s grin widened when he looked at the table. “Has he used the cuffs yet?”

Paris had wanted Cannon to use the cuffs, but he’d completely forgotten about them when his mate stripped naked, showing off his gorgeous body. “None of your business, Nosy Nellie.”

Alister grabbed Paris’s hand and yanked him toward the two microphone stands. “Let’s show these country bumpkins how it’s done.”

It seemed Alister still hadn’t warmed to the idea of living in a small town. Paris hoped it happened soon, because he didn’t want Alister deciding he couldn’t deal with the slower pace anymore and hitting the road.

Grabbing one of the microphones, Paris laughed as Alister chose a song. Whistles, claps, and hoots erupted at Cannon’s table, making Paris blush and grin even goofier than his best friend.

He and Alister had sung at plenty of karaoke bars over the years. They were a dynamic duo who put others to shame, especially haters.

“You ready to belt it out?” Alister bumped his shoulder. “Make sure you show flare, honey. We can’t stand here like stiffs.”

Paris popped his hip. “I was born with flare. Play the damn song.”

“I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor began.

“This isn’t a duo song,” Paris said to Alister.

“I know.” He smirked. “I want your boo to be dazzled with your performance.” He slapped Paris’s hip. “Sing it, sugar.”

As soon as the lyrics started, Paris strutted his stuff, walking in a circle as if he was a high-stepping horse, bending his upper half backward dramatically, and jerking his hips back and forth. It was all for Cannon. His mate’s jaw dropped at first, and then he’d grinned widely through the entire song, winking once or twice at Paris.

By the time the song was over, Paris was hot and sweaty.

Alister grabbed the other microphone and said, “That was my bestie, bitches. Now you’re really going to be knocked out of your country boots because both of us are gonna sing.

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