“You never got to sing it for us,” he says, a little shyness creeping in to the humor. “And I really wanted to hear your performance.”
“Well, Hot Shots kind of exploded.” I head into the kitchen and grab us a couple of waters.
“Hot Shots may be toast,” he says, “but that doesn’t mean our dreams of karaoke superstardom have to come to an end.”
“Clearly not.” I grab the mic again, giving it a closer look. “Is this thing seriously waterproof?”
“How else would you jam in the bathtub?”
I lift a brow. Offer him a flirty little smirk. “Should we test it?”
Ani nearly chokes on his water. “Now? Are you serious?”
“Bathtub karaoke…” I pause for about half a second, then remember what Kirin said about being honest with Ani about my feelings. If this doesn’t do the trick, I don’t know what will.
I grab his hand and nod. “Why not?”
Ani’s laughter stalls out, his cheeks turning pink. “Um… I’m not… really? You’re sure you want to do this?”
“Are you scared? You look scared.” I press a hand to his chest and give him a somber look. “I promise I won’t drop the mic in the tub and fry any delicate parts.”
“The mic’s, or mine?”
Smiling mischievously, I head into the master bathroom, calling out over my shoulder, “No delicate parts will be fried in the making of this epic and wet memory.”
I fill the tub and strip down to my underwear, deciding not tototallyfreak him out just yet. So far, all we’ve shared is a kiss and a few flirtations, and although I can sense he truly cares for me, I don’t want to push him into anything he’s not a hundred percent into.
A few minutes later, he joins me in the bathroom with a couple of beers, and I turn off the tap and smile.
“Water’s perfect,” I say, anticipation coiling inside. I have no idea where this is going to lead, but whatever happens, I know it’s right. Ani is my friend before anything else, and I trust him completely. “You ready?”
His eyes trail down to my toes, and he swallows hard, blowing out a nervous breath. His energy hits me all at once—a flicker of nervousness, followed swiftly by a wave of intense, powerful desire.
Without another word, he strips down to his boxers, and we climb in the tub with our beers and our new toy.
By the time the water cools, we’ve worked our way through Stevie Nicks’ entire catalog, including the Fleetwood Mac stuff, a good deal of Beyonce’s, and an amazingly cheesy mix of eighties rock ballads I’ll never be able to get out of my head.
In other words, the perfect way to spend an afternoon.
Singing. Laughing. Drinking. Half-naked in the bathtub with a ginger hottie whose infectious smile chases away the rain.
* * *
“What do you feel like doing now?” he asks. We’re lying face to face on my bed after the bathtub concert, comfy and warm in some of Baz’s T-shirts and sweats we found in my closet. “Witch and Wizard Monopoly? X-Rated Scrabble? Tarot Arcana Charades?”
I shoot him a dubious glare. “You’re making that up, as usual.”
“Don’t mock it until you’ve tried it.”
When I don’t immediately respond, he nudges my foot with his, and as I gaze into his caramel eyes, a burst of warmth fills my chest. It feels like I’ve known him forever. Like it’s always been this way, the two of us spending lazy Sundays together, hanging out and making each other laugh.
“Come on, Stevie,” he says softly. “Anything you want. Seriously. Just name it. Unless it involves me leaving, in which case, bury it. No one needs that kind of negativity in their lives.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“I’m so glad we had this little chat.” Ani reaches over and tugs on one of my curls. “So whatdoyou want?”
A single thought comes to mind, but when I open my mouth, my throat tightens, nerves getting in the way. I lower my gaze and take a deep breath, trying to think of what to say. Scrabble might be fun. Even the charades thing.
