Love in a Nutshell

“What do you mean?”

“This is trash-can punch. Beneath all that sugar is enough overproof rum to pickle a sailor. All I can say is good thing I drove.”

“Thanks for sharing. If I’d known about the punch, I’d have started drinking earlier.”

“Kate,” Marcie said. “Curtain time.”

Except for the crucial lack of a curtain.

Palms clammy and heart slamming, Kate stepped out from behind the latticework jungle and walked tentatively to the microphone. She allowed herself a glance toward Matt, then wished she hadn’t. As surprise and then pleasure paraded across his face, Kate had to quell a truly chicken-feathered urge to jump from the stage and c Se snhug the rest of that overproof courage. But if this was what it took to be initiated into Keene’s Harbor, no way was she going to back down.

“I’m going to give you a little ‘Crimson and Clover’… Joan Jett style,” she said into the microphone.

Kate didn’t care that half of the hall still talked and laughed as the music started. All that mattered was reaching the end of the song. She hadn’t lied when she’d told Ella she hadn’t been singing, but more than the chilly shower had been stopping her. In the space of one year, she’d lost her marriage, her home, her dog, and her job. She wasn’t exactly depressed, but she was just flat-out busy trying to rebuild her life and her identity. Most of the time, she just felt too tired to sing.

But as she eased into the song, Kate recalled one cool thing about singing. When singing, she didn’t have to be Kate of the somewhat screwed-up life. She became whatever character she chose to take on. And tonight, she chose to be a rocker seductress.

Kate let herself go with the song’s sensual sway and began to kick out the lyrics with conviction. This wasn’t about winning Bambi meat or even town approval. It was about living in this moment. It was about feeling the slow, sexual surge that made her grip the microphone stand with both hands and make love to the crowd.

When the song finished, Kate dropped her gaze to the plywood stage and blew out a sigh of relief. She was fairly certain she hadn’t sucked. Except the hall remained weirdly silent. Okay, maybe she was delusional. Maybe she really had sucked. Just when she was sure that was true, applause and a couple of whistles and howls kicked in.

Kate smiled at the crowd and said her thanks. Then she caught Matt looking at her with an intensity she’d never gotten from any other man. Not even from Richard. She felt as though the stage was rocking and rolling beneath her feet. It wasn’t the not-so-grandma punch, though. This was a punch of another kind, one of sheer hunger and absolute sexual certainty.

Matt wasn’t messing around.

Now Kate got why women trailed after him as though they’d lost their favorite plaything. Still, she refused to fall for him, no matter how hot that landing might be. Without even looking at the scorecards the judges now held aloft, Kate escaped the stage while her legs could still carry her.

***

MATT WAS a goner. He was ready to serve himself up to Kate however she wanted him. Preferably naked. And even more preferably, tonight.

Matt listened to a damn fine version of “My Wild Irish Rose” by Junior and an equally scary rendition of “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” by Deena. But all of that was second to wondering how he could get Kate alone. He really liked her. Ironically, that made things more complicated. Not that he was going to let that stop him. Or even slow him down.

Marcie stepped onstage, aligned the microphone to her satisfaction, and announced the second round finalists. Kate had made the cut.

Starflower leaned over to speak to Matt. “We get a ten-minute reprieve before they start the next round.”

“You mean a break?” Matt asked.

“No. Definitely a reprieve,” she said. “I’m stepping outside to meditate and make myself one with the evening peace.”

Or peace pipe.

As for Matt, he planned to meditate on how to make progress with Kate.

***

THE OVERPROOF rum had kicked in and was burning through Kate like jet fuel. She didn’t feel buzzed so much as energized. Sometime around midnight, when both the alcohol and the sugar had wreaked their havoc, she knew she’d be parched and cranky. And no doubt still sleepless. Too late for regrets, though. She looked out at the people gathered behind the judges, and Kate the Performer took over. It was round two of the Great Karaoke Olympics, and Kate was into it.

“Marvin Gaye’s ‘Sexual Healing,’” she said into the microphone.

***

KATE RIPPED into the song, enjoying her time in the spotlight, loving the lyrics, loving the music, thinking that life was full of moments just like this. Unexpected, surprising moments. And Kate realized that unless you put yourself out there, you could very easily miss them. Maybe it was time to take some more risks with her life.

A low howl drifted into the room from somewhere outside. The sound slowly raised in both pitch and volume, and people began to turn and head toward the door. Kate knew her voice wasn’t chasing them off. She’d witnessed this scene before at Bagger’s Tavern. The place could go from full to empty in sixty seconds flat when the town’s volunteer firefighters heard the alarm sound.

“Fire,” Ella mouthed from the base of the stage. She pointed toward the door, and Kate nodded in acknowledgment. Ella was one of the handful of women who served on the town’s fire department.

More people filed out, but Kate kept singing. Now she knew how the band on the Titanic had felt. A woman who looked kind of like Matt leaned over his shoulder and said something to him. He stood. Kate didn’t like the grim look on his face. She finished, skipped her bow, and made a moderately graceful jump from the low stage.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s a fire at the brewery,” Matt said. “Could you come with me?”

“Of course,” she said, because she’d decided not to let herself lust after Matt Culhane, but she darned well liked him.

***

MATT LOOKED at the crowd Sat ght=”1em”gathered in his parking lot. In Keene’s Harbor, the only thing that drew a bigger crowd than a Friday night fund-raiser was a good, old-fashioned Dumpster fire. There was such a weirdly festive atmosphere that he half expected to see the spectators pull out marshmallows and start toasting them. Of course, the spectators would have to fight their way through the most massive contingent of first responders that Matt had seen since the Independence Day fireworks debacle of ’90. Since he’d been intimately involved in the accidental early start to that annual celebration, he’d watched that group from afar.

“Is the whole town here?” Kate asked.

“More or less.”

He found a spot for his truck, and immediately noticed an ambulance parked at the brewery’s employee door. The vehicle’s back door was open and the interior was lit. Inside, a familiar figure lay on a stretcher.

Matt sprinted over to the ambulance. He’d barely reached it when Kate joined him. For a little thing, she had a long stride.

“Give me a second,” he said to her.

“I’ll be right here.”

Matt didn’t recognize the two paramedics working on Laila. All the same, he climbed into the back of the