sensing a kink in her defensive exterior.
"I know how to hold my liquor, thanks very much," Delilah shot back. This time she was even more defensive.
"Let me guess," Micah said, as he moved in for the kill. "You've had all this singing talent since you were a kid and you've always dreamed of becoming the next big country star. But, to become a star, you need to get noticed. So, you set up this gig. You probably made a few calls to some record companies. You had hoped that one of them would send an agent out to hear you sing and make all your dreams come true. And now, you're waiting at the bar, hoping that he'll walk up to you and tell you to sign on the dotted line."
Delilah stepped into Micah's space and glared up at him, even though he was several inches taller than she was. He'd just hit the nail on the head. It made her feel intensely vulnerable to be verbally dissected so quickly.
"You don't know a thing about me," she said, trying to stop her voice from trembling.
"I'd like to," replied Micah. His bad boy demeanor briefly gave way to sincerity, "Let’s start with your name."
"Why?" Delilah demanded. Her defensiveness began to melt. "I'm just a country girl with big dreams in a little town. Why would you care about all that?"
"Because you're damned beautiful," Micah responded. "Simple as that."
Delilah found herself at a loss for words. She honestly couldn't tell whether this man was trying to pick her up or not. She'd stepped into his space to confront him, but found herself face-to-chest with him. Even with his shirt and jacket on, it was clear he was well built. Up close, his small beard and slightly unkempt bristles looked even more handsome. His eyes were an alluring shade of electric blue. His other edges were pretty rough, but his sheer good looks made up for that. Delilah casted around awkwardly. She hoped that the long awaited talent agent would interrupt them.
"If he hasn't turned up by now, he probably wasn't here to begin with," Micah pointed out. It was as if he read her mind.
"Oh, who am I fooling?" Delilah exclaimed in hopeless resignation. She turned away from Micah. "Who the hell would come to a crappy little town like this to hear some bargirl do a karaoke gig?"
"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself."
"Of course I should be," Delilah said. She downed another shot of whisky. "Dreams either come true or they come crashing down around you."
"No, they don't," Micah replied. His sincerity grew warmer. "As long as you don't stop chasing them, they either come true today or they come true tomorrow."
Delilah turned back to face Micah.
"That's sounds so sweet," said Delilah before adding a little haughtily, "for a bad boy biker who hasn't shaved in weeks."
"Ouch, that really hurts my feelings," Micah said with an amused smile. The insult did not faze him in the least.
"Well, it was nice talking to you, stranger," Delilah concluded. She set down her shot glass. "I'm heading home."
"Let me give you a ride then," suggested Micah.
"Nice try, handsome," snorted Delilah, "but I live just around the corner."
"At least let me walk you home then," Micah persisted. He was determined not to let his goal slip through his fingers.
"You just don't give up, do you?" said Delilah. Exasperation crept into her voice.
"When I see something I want," Micah replied smoothly, as he moved in for the coup de grace, "I never give up on it."
The two gazed into each other's eyes in silence for a few moments. Micah waited patiently for the fruits of his sweet talk to pay off. Delilah, slightly addled by the whisky, gauged whether or not it was worth taking this stranger home.
"Let's use the back door," she said.
***
Micah and Delilah went out the back of the bar. They walked side-by-side back to her house. A few of the streetlights were on by now, but the main source light was the bright white luminescence of
"I know how to hold my liquor, thanks very much," Delilah shot back. This time she was even more defensive.
"Let me guess," Micah said, as he moved in for the kill. "You've had all this singing talent since you were a kid and you've always dreamed of becoming the next big country star. But, to become a star, you need to get noticed. So, you set up this gig. You probably made a few calls to some record companies. You had hoped that one of them would send an agent out to hear you sing and make all your dreams come true. And now, you're waiting at the bar, hoping that he'll walk up to you and tell you to sign on the dotted line."
Delilah stepped into Micah's space and glared up at him, even though he was several inches taller than she was. He'd just hit the nail on the head. It made her feel intensely vulnerable to be verbally dissected so quickly.
"You don't know a thing about me," she said, trying to stop her voice from trembling.
"I'd like to," replied Micah. His bad boy demeanor briefly gave way to sincerity, "Let’s start with your name."
"Why?" Delilah demanded. Her defensiveness began to melt. "I'm just a country girl with big dreams in a little town. Why would you care about all that?"
"Because you're damned beautiful," Micah responded. "Simple as that."
Delilah found herself at a loss for words. She honestly couldn't tell whether this man was trying to pick her up or not. She'd stepped into his space to confront him, but found herself face-to-chest with him. Even with his shirt and jacket on, it was clear he was well built. Up close, his small beard and slightly unkempt bristles looked even more handsome. His eyes were an alluring shade of electric blue. His other edges were pretty rough, but his sheer good looks made up for that. Delilah casted around awkwardly. She hoped that the long awaited talent agent would interrupt them.
"If he hasn't turned up by now, he probably wasn't here to begin with," Micah pointed out. It was as if he read her mind.
"Oh, who am I fooling?" Delilah exclaimed in hopeless resignation. She turned away from Micah. "Who the hell would come to a crappy little town like this to hear some bargirl do a karaoke gig?"
"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself."
"Of course I should be," Delilah said. She downed another shot of whisky. "Dreams either come true or they come crashing down around you."
"No, they don't," Micah replied. His sincerity grew warmer. "As long as you don't stop chasing them, they either come true today or they come true tomorrow."
Delilah turned back to face Micah.
"That's sounds so sweet," said Delilah before adding a little haughtily, "for a bad boy biker who hasn't shaved in weeks."
"Ouch, that really hurts my feelings," Micah said with an amused smile. The insult did not faze him in the least.
"Well, it was nice talking to you, stranger," Delilah concluded. She set down her shot glass. "I'm heading home."
"Let me give you a ride then," suggested Micah.
"Nice try, handsome," snorted Delilah, "but I live just around the corner."
"At least let me walk you home then," Micah persisted. He was determined not to let his goal slip through his fingers.
"You just don't give up, do you?" said Delilah. Exasperation crept into her voice.
"When I see something I want," Micah replied smoothly, as he moved in for the coup de grace, "I never give up on it."
The two gazed into each other's eyes in silence for a few moments. Micah waited patiently for the fruits of his sweet talk to pay off. Delilah, slightly addled by the whisky, gauged whether or not it was worth taking this stranger home.
"Let's use the back door," she said.
***
Micah and Delilah went out the back of the bar. They walked side-by-side back to her house. A few of the streetlights were on by now, but the main source light was the bright white luminescence of
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