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But fuck, can I really handle being around Ethan?
There are a million reasons why I should take this gig. The only con is Ethan.
Logic dictates I take the gig.
I let myself sleep on it.
When I wake, I'm sure.
I text Mal.
Violet: I'm in.
Chapter Seven
Ethan
I take a deep breath, shrug my shoulders, and attempt to get through the song again.
Fucking Drew. His shit is complicated. But then I knew that when I agreed to fill in for the Sinful Serenade guitarist.
Sinful Serenade is headlining our current tour. I'm a convenient choice. But Drew is too much of a perfectionist to go with convenience. He's trusting me with a lot.
Can't fuck that up.
I agreed in a heartbeat. The man had just found out his fiancée was pregnant. Just from our brief phone call, I could tell he was going to choose her over anything else. Someone had to step in. I'm more than capable. It made sense.
I didn't consider how hard it is to master his songs. Certainly didn't consider what a big deal it is filling in for the Drew Denton.
But then there's nothing that could have convinced me to decline the offer.
I don't back down from a challenge. Whether it's filling in for Drew or hanging out around Violet without falling in love with her, I don't give in when shit is hard.
I take a few minutes to stretch my hands, get water, shake off all the doubt creeping into my head. Not sure if it's about playing or about Violet. Doesn't matter. Neither challenge is defeating me.
First, I play the Sinful Serenade song I know the best. Then the next. By song four, I'm lost in the music.
This is where the world makes sense, when it's me and my guitar and nothing else.
The door opens and Mal steps inside the room. He nods keep going.
I'm not his monkey, but, dammit, even at twenty-four, I still get giddy over my big brother's approval.
I finish the song.
"I'm going to have to watch out or you'll become Drew's full-time replacement." Mal hooks his mic up to his amp. "Mind if I join?"
"You gonna sing with moans every other word like Miles does?"
I'm not sure which is more disturbing—Mal moaning every other word the way Miles Webb, the Sinful Serenade singer does, or Mal's usual breathy style. Either way, he sounds like he's in the middle of a vigorous fuck.
Mal shrugs, playing coy.
I go on to the next song on the setlist. It's tough, with a killer guitar solo. Mal does his usual breathy thing. As much as I hate to think of the implications of his overly sensual voice, it sounds fucking good with the music.
I get lost in the feel of the song. Then we're playing another. Then we're finishing the entire setlist.
