She didn’t know what was wrong, but for some reason, she couldn’t seem to settle. She cleaned both bathrooms, did a couple of loads of laundry and then tried working on a song from her notebook. Nothing worked. She flipped channels, did a bit of internet shopping and by 7:18 knew she was going to jump out of her skin if she didn’t find something to distract herself.

She shoved house keys, her cell phone and a credit card into her jeans pocket, then locked the front door behind her and started for the center of town.

There were still plenty of people walking around. The sun had yet to set, and the evening was pleasantly warm. Most of the restaurants had outdoor patios where happy locals and sunburned tourists mingled easily. Several people called out greetings to Destiny. She nodded and smiled as she walked but didn’t stop. It seemed she had a destination, although she had no idea what it was. Not until she got there.

She came to a stop across the street from The Man Cave. She stared at the sign and at the caveman statue beside the open door before giving in to the inevitable.

Once inside, she felt as if she could breathe more easily. A couple of baseball games played on TVs over the bar. Most of the seats were filled. The crack of balls from the pool tables mingled with laughter. The smell of popcorn and beer, perfume and burgers, welcomed her home.

Maybe it was because she’d grown up in honky-tonks. Maybe it was because being around people made it possible for her to lose herself when she couldn’t in the quiet of her house. Or maybe it was the stage at the far end of the room.

The sign said karaoke started at eight every night. Destiny walked to the bar.

“Long Island Iced Tea,” she said. “Make it extra long.”

The bartender, a woman she didn’t recognize, nodded. “You walking?”

Because this was Fool’s Gold, Destiny thought. A place where they made sure you weren’t going to be drinking and driving before you even started drinking.

“I live less than six blocks away.”

“Good to know.”

Destiny settled on an empty bar stool. She glanced around the room and figured she knew at least a dozen people, maybe more. Friends. Acquaintances.

Aidan was with Nick, Miles and a couple of other guys. She nodded at them but ignored the wave over. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of them tonight. Especially not Miles, who’d gone out with both Shelby and Madeline.

She hoped neither of her friends would fall for the man. They both deserved better. He would break their hearts and then move on. Better for Madeline to crush on action star Jonny Blaze and Shelby to find someone a whole lot nicer than Miles. Not that they would listen to her.

She thought about the Hendrix brothers and their unbelievable bet about getting their wives pregnant and her father devastating his daughter with a thoughtless phone call and how she didn’t know what she was going to do with Starr when this job ended and how no matter how much she knew that being sensible was the right thing, sometimes she just wanted to let go.

The twisting restlessness inside her grew. The bartender passed her the drink, and Destiny drank deeply. She knew what the alcohol would do. How it would loosen the tight grip she kept on herself. Because of it, she would give in to the unthinkable. Because she had to. Because there was only one way to feel better.

Time ticked by. She finished her drink and ordered another. At 7:55 she walked up to the karaoke stage. Kipling was there, hooking up the equipment.

He didn’t see her at first, which meant she could study him without being caught. She took in the slight hesitation in some of his movements, juxtaposed with his athletic grace. Someone said something to him, and he responded with a quick smile. She knew his eyes were a beautiful shade of blue, that when he kissed her, she forgot she had a plan and that he loved his sister and looked out for her.

If she were someone else, looking for something else, she would already be sleeping with him. She might even be falling for him, which would be worse. But she’d learned to protect herself, so she was careful. Careful about the man, at least. If not careful with the rest of it.

Because tonight she was going to sing.

He looked up and saw her. “Hey, Destiny, what are you—” His expression turned worried. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. There’s something. What is it?”

She couldn’t explain. Not the swirling unease. The sense of not fitting in her skin, of needing something more. Impatience gripped her. Tension made her tremble. There were too many emotions and not enough places to put them.

“I have to sing.”

She’d thought he might laugh or grill her, because how could her statement make sense? Instead he put out a hand to help her up on the stage.

“Want to do a set?” he asked.

She nodded. “If that’s okay.”

He smiled at her. “Let me think. Free entertainment for my guests and listening to you sing more than one song. Yeah, it’s kind of okay.”

They scrolled through songs together. She selected one by Tumpy Shanks. It was old, but one of her favorites. “Under the Willow Tree” would be followed by her father’s hit “Barstool Blues.” She added a few more of her mother’s songs, then “What Hurts the Most,” a Rascal Flatts hit, closing with Kenny Chesney’s “Come Over.”

She put her drink on the small table by the karaoke machine. “I’m going to need another one of these in about fifteen minutes,” she said.