Page 65 of Finding Storm

When the words kick in, I’m right there with Madonna, singing along.

“Okay, I give in,” Nick says, pulling my attention to him. “I know this is Madonna from her voice. But I can honestly say I’ve never heard this song before in my life.”

My eyes zip to his. “And you say you have good taste in music. You should be ashamed, Slater. Ashamed,” I tease.

His lips curve into a smile.

It’s panty-melting hot.

I have the sudden urge to turn on the air-con.

“It’s from the True Blue album,” I tell him. “But it was never released as a single. Should’ve been in my opinion.” I continue to sing along.

“It’s okay …” he starts, and I give him a look of playful disappointment. “For a fucking awesome song.”

“Better,” I tell him, grinning.

“Actually, the more I hear … it’s the best song I’ve ever heard.”

“Okay, too much.” I laugh, and so does he. “And I’d apologize for my terrible singing voice. But I honestly don’t care enough to. When a good song comes on, you just gotta sing.” I shrug.

“True. And you are right; you’re an awful fucking singer.”

I look at him and laugh. “I know, right? Totally robbed of the vocal gift I could’ve given to the world. What about you?”

“What about me, what?”

“Can you sing?”

He’s staring at me. This hidden expression in his eyes that I can’t figure out.

“Can I sing?” he repeats my question.

“That’s what I asked.” I turn on my blinker and take the upcoming turn.

“Well … I guess I can hold a tune,” he finally answers.

“Okay, so come on then. Let me hear this tune-holding voice of yours.” I gesture to him with my hand.

There’s a pause and then, “Okay. But I’m gonna need a song I know the words to.”

I pick my cell up out of the cupholder sitting between us and hand it to him. “The passcode is one, two, three, four.”

He chokes out a laugh. “Your passcode is one, two, three, four? Seriously, Stevie, you do realize it wouldn’t take a genius to crack that code?”

“I know.” I sigh. “But when you’ve locked yourself out of five different phones, it’s time to accept that you’re shit at remembering passcodes and just go with the easiest one there is.”

“Or you could just have no passcode.”

“But then people would be able to break into my phone. Duh.” I grin at him.

He’s laughing at me, shaking his head. “But you just gave me it. Not worried I’m gonna steal your phone at all?”

I slide a look at him. “Dude, you drive a Maserati. You’re not gonna steal my four-year-old iPhone. Unless you have kleptomania. Do you?”

“Nope. Definitely no kleptomania here. But I could send a really bad sex joke to everyone in your Contacts.”

“Oh my God! Do it! It’ll be the most interesting thing to happen to most of them in a long while. Although you might give my dad a coronary.”