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“Let me guess,” Priest said. “You have a problem with Frank Sinatra.”
“Well, no. Hello, I’m Italian-American,” Robbie said. “My family would disown me if I had a problem with Ol’ Blue Eyes. But again, how old are you? My nonna listens to this guy.”
Priest’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, and Robbie was somewhat pleased with himself for finally getting some kind of reaction from the man other than his granitelike expression.
“And what would you choose to listen to if you could?”
Robbie straightened in his seat, and his eyes widened with excitement as he leaned forward, about to press one of the buttons on the radio. But at the last second, something made him stop and turn to Priest, seeking his permission.
I mean, it is his car. I should at least ask before I commandeer the radio. Right?
“Can I?” Robbie asked, and when a smile slowly stretched across Priest’s lips, Robbie found himself frozen in place.
Damn. When Priest smiled it was… OMG. He looked like an entirely different man, an extremely hot one at that.
“You may,” Priest said, then his expression returned to his natural stern one, and Robbie’s eyes flicked to Julien, who smirked, and suddenly Robbie’s jeans felt much tighter than they had five seconds ago.
“The radio?” Priest said, drawing Robbie’s heightened attention back to him.
“Oh, right.” Robbie pressed a button, and when a familiar tune hit his ears, he whooped. “Hell yes! I love this song.” He then turned the volume up, looked at Priest, and belted out the first lines of “We Built This City” in the most heartfelt rendition he could muster.
Ah ha ha! Look at him. Robbie almost started laughing at the stupefied expression now etched into the lines of Priest’s face. But instead, he pulled out all the moves from his and his sisters’ epic lip sync battles and started dancing around in his seat like a fool. Making sure to include a variety of hand gestures, head tilts, and full-on diva attitude, Robbie pointed back to Julien to join in, and found him laughing at his antics. Robbie then leaned across the console and placed a hand on Priest’s arm, before he turned all dramatic and leaned against his bicep, looking up at Priest from under his lashes for the chorus as he sang into a nonexistent microphone.
God, who doesn’t love Starship?
When it was all over and the song changed to one much less exciting, Robbie turned the volume down, shut his eyes, and flopped back in his seat.
“I assume you like that song?” Priest was so earnest that Robbie couldn’t help the smile he knew crossed his mouth. The guy really was fucking weird.
“Yeah. Doesn’t everyone?” Robbie said, opening his eyes, and when the dash lights started to turn a hazy shade of blue and Priest’s head morphed into two, Robbie blinked. Exhaustion was starting to make his head spin now, along with the alcohol.
Then he heard Julien say, “Bravo, princesse. Bravo.”
Robbie said, “Merci,” as he waved his hand, and that was the last thing he remembered before he shut his eyes and promptly passed out.
Chapter Five
CONFESSION
I think I’ve been here before…
“IS HE STILL asleep?” Priest asked the next morning, as he walked into the kitchen, where Julien sat at the breakfast island in his black yoga pants and white tank. He had a freshly pressed glass of his green juice in front of him, and a relaxed expression on his handsome face. But then again, thirty minutes of meditation and yoga each morning would do that to a person.
“Like the dead,” Julien said, and Priest kissed him once, twice, and then a third time, because he never could resist that mouth. “I haven’t heard a peep out of him since his impromptu performance last night.”
Priest walked over to the freshly brewed coffee and poured himself a mug. “He’s going to have a horrible headache today. He shouldn’t drink that much.” When he turned back to the island, he saw a sly smile on Julien’s mouth and said, “Do you disagree?”
“Non. But there’s usually a reason one gets so…”
“Drunk?”
“Oui. I think something’s bothering him.”
“Such as?” Priest said, and reached for the milk and sugar on the counter.
“I’m not sure yet, but something sent him to that bar last night. Probably the same thing that made him finally call me. So it might be better if you don’t tell him he drinks too much as soon as he wakes up.”
“Why? It’s the truth.” Priest stirred the contents of his mug and took a sip.
“It is, but he was actually warming up to you last night. Why ruin that?”
Priest lowered his coffee to the counter, grabbed one of the bagels from the breadbasket, and put it in the toaster. “Fair enough. I won’t tell him not to drink so much. But you must admit, he was—”
