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The door to the bar opened, and a man walked out carrying a black case, looking dejected. She’d been sitting in the lot for ten minutes and this was the first time she’d seen anybody walk in or out.
“Either do it or don’t do it, but stop messing around,” she muttered to herself.
And then, with a rush of bravado she wasn’t expecting, she grabbed the flier from the passenger seat and wrenched her car door open, climbing out before she changed her mind again.
The moon was bright overhead as she walked down the sidewalk toward the bar, illuminating the tall buildings of the town square, stopping short at the entrance under the partly lit illuminated sign. Moonlight Bar. The first o kept flickering on and off.
The door to the bar was stiff, and she had to push her shoulder against it to force it open, before stumbling inside gracelessly.
Luckily, she still had a dancer’s reactions and regained her footing with ease. The bar was empty, save for three men sitting in the corner all looking at her.
Oh great. They’d caught her embarrassing entrance.
And then her breath caught. Because even in the gloom she recognized one of the men. No. She recognized two.
Presley Hartson had a twin. They looked so similar it took her breath away. Gemma had said there were brothers, but she didn’t expect to see a duplicate.
“You okay?” the twin asked. She knew it wasn’t Presley because he was smiling.
“Sorry. I…” Dear God no. They weren’t the band, were they?
“Are you here for the audition?” the third guy – not Presley or his twin – asked. “Come on in. Did you bring your keyboard?”
“No.” It was about all she could say. Was it too late to turn around and leave?
Damn right it was. And anyway, she wouldn’t give Presley Hartson the satisfaction of thinking he’d scared her away. She’d audition and then hopefully they wouldn’t choose her.
And maybe she’d still have some dignity left.
“No you’re not here for the audition or no you didn’t bring your keyboard?” Not-Presley asked.
“I didn’t bring my keyboard,” she told him. She hadn’t even unpacked it. And now she felt stupid, because of course she should have.
“She can use the piano,” the third guy said. “You can play… right?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I can play.”
“Come on over here.” He smiled at her and if it was any other time she’d be relieved. But she felt edgy. Stupid. Like she’d made the worst decision of her life by coming here.
Still, she walked toward them anyway, so aware of Presley watching her, unsmiling, as she reached the three of them.
“What’s your name?” his twin asked.
“Cassie Simons.”
“I’m Marley.” He leaned forward to shake her hand. “This is Alex. And the grumpy asshole is Presley.”
“We’ve met,” Presley said, his face betraying no expression.
“You have?”
“I teach Delilah’s ballet class,” Cassie said, taking the seat that Marley was gesturing at.
“You’re the dance teacher?” Marley asked. He looked at Presley and raised a brow. Had they been talking about her?
Had Presley complained about her to his brother?
Ugh, he almost certainly had. They had to be close after all.
