Levi gives a crisp nod. “Yes,Mr. Sinatra.”
“Ooh, will Mr. Sinatra wear the green tie?” Hazel asks.
Sawyer gives a light laugh. “We’ll see.”
“But what will you do today?” Hazel presses, clearly enjoying poking fun at him.
“It’s just a tie. I have another with me anyway,” Sawyer says.
“Of course you do,” I say with an eye roll that’s borderline affectionate. I tense. Shit. Was that too flirty? Does that reveal too much about oursecret? Sure, everyone here teases him, but does my teasing sound…naughtier?
My cheeks heat, and I jerk my gaze away from him. I’ll just ignore my own flirtations, thank you very much.
I march to the training nook with the tie and stuff it into my purse so I can take it home.No one can tell. You’re fine.
I spend the rest of the day making sure I’m not giving anything away. It’s easy enough since I have more training sessions—a friend of Veronica’s, and a couple locals too.
In the late afternoon, I’m straightening up my nook when a handsome man in a suit—no tie—walks in with a confident swagger. His dark hair is swoopy, and his friendly eyes laser in on me first. “Hello there. I’d love to hear all about doggie daycare and training,” he says in a charming British accent.
Sawyer’s at the counter, so he chimes in, giving the man the details about Dog Tails. After, I tell him about my training.
“Brilliant,” the man says, then flashes me a fantastic smile. “I’m Ian. I’ll be in touch.”
“Wonderful. Have a great day,” I say as I wave goodbye.
When he leaves, Sawyer’s forehead is full frowny, and his jaw is set hard.
But the phone rings, and then my alarm for another session goes off. There’s no time to talk to Sawyer privately in the evening either, since I head to the theater for a rehearsal after I finish for theday. I’m a little early, and my mom is still working with The Hot Shots. They’ll open the fundraiser, but I don’t need to rehearse with them since they’re a cappella. I slip in behind her into the second row as the firefighters onstage start humming the opening notes to a familiar tune. The men and women in blue khakis and matching T-shirts that make their profession crystal clear shimmy their hips a little from side to side, while the Darling Springs fire captain croons in a deep baritone about whether a little girl’s daddy is home.
They’re practicing Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire.”
Damn, they sound good. The music thrums in my bones; the lyrics seep into my body. And as the first responders work through the sexy song, I feel,really feel, the words and the meaning about trying to cool a desire.
My mind happily wanders, too, and soon I’m picturing Sawyer singing this at Pour Decisions. Locking eyes with a woman in the audience. Singing the words of obsessionto me.
I’m practically squirming by the time it ends. And I ache more than I want to in a community theater. Someone needs to coolmydesire.
When the song ends, I tap my mom’s shoulder. “They’re amazing. But maybe they should sing ‘On the Good Ship Lollipop’ next?”
She arches a pristinely groomed brow. “Darling. Don’t say such things. They have one more song, and then we’ll move into our rehearsal.”
I exhale, trying to let go of the sparks inside me, but when the group launches into Kings of Leon’s “Sex on Fire,” I bolt up. “I need to get a cold drink of water.”
Or an ice bucket.
When I return, Mom pulls me aside and says, “Do you and your brother want to sing ‘Islands in the Stream’ this year?”
I stare at her. “No. Never. Ever.Ever.”
“I just love that song. Can’t fault a woman for trying.”
“You and Angelo should sing it then.”
“Oh! Why didn’t I think of that before?” She spins around, clearly looking for her beau, who seems to materialize whenever my mother needs him. He jogs down the aisle seconds later, a roguish smile on his handsome face and his eyes lasered only on her.
“Love, why aren’t we doing a duet?” Mom asks.
When Angelo arrives, he takes both her hands in his. “A question I ask myself every day.”
