Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his fingers tapping along to the beat on his thigh, and I kept on singing, knowing I was pretty much yelling out the lyrics totally out of tune and not giving a single shit, especially not when he started laughing right before the chorus.

And then, then, this fool joined in.

At the top of his lungs, with that accent that felt like a hug, he sang all about forgetting he was a lady.

And together, almost at the top of our lungs, we sang about feeling wild, about short skirts, and mostly… about feeling like a woman.

We were both dying laughing at the end.

There were tears in my eyes, and he was leaning against the seat, both hands on top of his head as that lean torso puffed in and out with ragged breaths as he kept on cracking up.

“Oh, I needed that,” he wheezed, dragging those big palms down his face to wipe at his eyes and cheeks.

“Then get ready for the rest of my playlist, bubba,” I warned him right as the next song started.

And then, we were at it again. I did it for his sake. To get that smile back on his face. The light behind his eyes.

It worked.

We sang about just breathing, about someone named Jolene, and right as I was pulling the car into the parking lot, we thought we were performing on The Voice while we sang about having friends in low places.

I turned off the car then and turned to Zac, wanting to ask him if he was better but not wanting to ruin it when I could see it in his eyes that he was. Because he was smiling that big, old Zac smile that made his entire face resemble Christmas lights. And I couldn’t help but return the expression.

He took my hand from where I’d set it on my lap and brought it up to his face, kissing the back of it with those firm, warm lips.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit my little heart stuttered a second.

But I didn’t think twice about leaning over and planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “There’s my Big Texas.” I tapped him on the cheek with my free hand and said, “I’m always here for you if you need me.” He knew that. Then I booped him on the nose once more. “Come on. Let’s get this over with so we can gas each other out on the way back.”

He barked out a laugh. “I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about now.”

I pulled my hand out from his and snorted as I sat back and went for the door handle. “You should be. I haven’t eaten this in years. If you’d let me choose, we’d be eating roast beef and melted cheese sandwiches.”

I was pretty sure he snickered as I got out, and he met me by the trunk, sliding sunglasses on to cover his face. Maybe we should have ordered through the drive-through and eaten in the car, but he’d say something if he had too much trouble being in public. I figured. We’d gone grocery shopping. Gone to a quinceañera together. Plus, it was his idea, saying it would taste better warm. We weren’t in a rush.

He eyed my car for a second and then looked at me.

I was parked pretty crooked. Fine. I could admit it. “Leave me alone,” I muttered.

Zac smiled tightly but he nodded.

No one paid us any attention inside as we each ordered a meal and we both pulled out cash at the same time.

“Let’s split it,” I tried to offer.

“I got it,” he said at the same time.

We stared at each other.

“How many times have you made me dinner now?” he asked, arching one of those annoying blond eyebrows. “I gotta start buying you groceries.”

We stared at each other some more.

The cashier cleared his throat, and we both must have realized we were being annoying holding up the line.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized to him, still looking at Zac. “Might as well get me some of those cinnamon things while we’re at it if you’re paying.”

“The cinnamon things too, please. Thank you.”

The employee rolled his eyes and took his cash, huffing something under his breath, probably calling us assholes. Yikes. Zac and I made a face at each other after he took his change, and we moved off to the side. “You got any plans tomorrow, kiddo?”

“Work in the morning but nothing in the evening. You?” I wanted to know how practice had gone—and if his mood had anything to do with it—but I didn’t want to ask.

Honestly, I just wanted him to tell me on his own, but I knew better than to hope. Expectations and all that. We’re just friends, I’d reminded myself no less than once a day since I’d woken up in his hotel bed holding his hand.

Through his sunglasses, I could see his eyeballs focused on me as he lowered his voice and said, “Nothin’ much. One of my teammates asked if I could drop by this haunted house he invested in that’s openin’ tomorrow. Wanna go?”

“Go with you?”

He made a little bit of a face. “With who else?”

I made a face back at him.

He squeezed my shoulder. “So yeah?”

He really wanted me to go with him? “You don’t want to ask one of your other friends?”

That had him tipping his head to the side. “Other friends?”

“Yeah, your other friends here.”

Those eyebrows of his just knit together, and even that bottom lip of his got fuller with the movement. “You’re my only friend here, honey,” he explained, his voice careful. “If you don’t wanna go, that’s all right.”

Shit balls. At the second part. Not at the first. The first was obviously… well, I guess I understood it. I knew a lot of people, but I was also aware they weren’t all my friends. There was a difference. “I’d go with you to an opera if you really wanted me to, I just thought….”

He raised his eyebrows.

Okay, there wasn’t any getting out of this. “I know you don’t have a lot of time, and I know we hang out when you do have a chance. I didn’t want you to….”

“Feel obligated?” he asked slowly.

“Yeah, maybe.” I pressed my lips together. “Don’t make that face at me. You had all those people over at your house that day I first went over and—”

“Those are my friends, but they aren’t my friends, darlin’. Not like you.” He stared down at me with those baby blues. “And I’d rather hang out with you. If you’re gettin’ tired of me….”

I made another face at him. “Oh, get a life, loser. You know I’m not.”

He coughed. “Loser? Me? I’m writin’ this down and tellin’ Mama about it.”

I snorted. “What are you going to tell her? Mama, Bianca was bein’ mean to me.”

His upper body jerked, and I heard him choke, “Is that what you think I sound like?”

I was 95 percent sure that the cashier at the register who had been looking blankly forward, whispered under his breath, “It is what you sound like.”

I raised my eyebrows at Zac like see?

“Well, now you’ve done fucked up, and you’re sharin’ those cinnamon things with me.”

That got me to laugh.

And it got him to grin at me, not taking me or himself seriously. “I’m still tellin’ Mama,” he threatened with a little side smile and a nudge.

“Your food’s ready,” the cashier finally called out, shoving a tray on the counter forward, his expression watchful all of a sudden.