Free Wild Abandon by Jeannine Colette Page B

play the bass,” I say.
    The bass player makes a motion to offer his instrument to me, but I hold up my hand.
    “Actually, I was hoping you had a harmonica around here.” I tilt my head and sway to the side a touch in question.
    To my left, an outstretched hand offers me a harmonica, and I see it’s from the guitarist. I thank him, and without even asking if they know the song I have in mind, I bring the metal instrument to my face, pucker my mouth, cup two hands around it, and blow out the opening notes to “Timber” by Pitbull, featuring Ke$ha.
    I get the first few chords out and turn around to see if they know the tune.
    The guitarist is the first to start strumming the thumb, thumb rhythm that begins the song. The bass plucks, keeping in time, so I lift the harmonica back to my mouth and play the same chords again. On cue, the banjo and mandolin play, and instantly, the six of us play the fast-tempo song.
    With the harmonica smooshed to my face, I know I’ve smeared my lipstick, as I’ve done before. I play the riff again, and with a raised brow, I look at the banjo player, and he knows what I’m asking him. The answer is, yes, he knows the words.
    So, when it’s time, I pull back and let him rap out the Pitbull part. I take the moment to wipe my mouth as my body moves to the awesome beats they’re playing. When it’s my turn to play on all the Ke$ha parts, I put the harmonica to my mouth and play again.
    Almost the entire bar is up on their feet, dancing and singing, filling in the words where my harmonica sings. My right foot taps in rhythm, my knee bouncing, and as much as I try not to, my head does this weird jerk. I do it when I hear a good song on the radio, and I know I look like a chicken.
    Oh well. I’m having a blast. It’s the most fun I’ve had since coming to Napa.
    The Barge Poppers are full of energy and warmth. We play in unison and totally jive with each other. When the end of the song comes, I blow out the last chorus and then add a few more, giving a finale just for fun.
    The room erupts in applause. I take a mini bow and hand the harmonica to Justin. Then, I leap off the stage and start to head back to my spot at the bar. Feeling high from my performance, I think I’ll celebrate with some bourbon, a bluegrass cocktail.
    A few people stop me on the way and give their comments on how awesome that was while another patron goes up to the stage and asks to sing with the band. They welcome her just as easily as they did me.
    I go back to my barstool, which is surprisingly empty. On the other side of the bar is Nate leaning in with his arms spread wide on the bar, almost inviting.
    “Nice performance.” He slides a drink in front of me. “Bourbon whiskey, pineapple juice, lemon, and maraschino.”
    I look down at the drink he provided and had made well before I even sat down. “How do you do that?” I ask in the most exasperated tone.
    Nate just shrugs, a smug look on his face. “How do you do that?” He lifts his chin up at the stage where the band is now playing a slow country ballad with the girl singing slightly off-key.
    I take a sip and savor the well-made drink, a perfect mix of sugar and whiskey. “It’s just something I know how to do.”
    “That simple?”
    “That simple,” I say as I scan the bar.
    My eyes do a double take when I see a jacked blond smooth-talking a petite brunette in the corner, who is feeling his biceps. Looks like Dallas found someone who appreciates his workout routine.
    I turn back to Nate, who is still in front of me but his ear is leaning in to hear an order from another customer. He grabs two beers from the cooler, sliding them over.
    When he looks back at me, I ask, “How do you know Dallas?”
    Nate nods to a gentleman to the left and leans below the counter. He grabs a glass and fills it with ice. It’s like he knows what his regulars want before they even order it. “Your date? I’ve seen him around here.”
    “Why did you send over