Page 6 of Playing Mr. Perfect

Sable throws her head back, her long dark hair whipping around her as wild and free as she is. Her raspy voice booms through the packed arena as she belts out the end of the song. The fans, and all of us, explode into cheers and applause.

“Listen to that crowd. Sable is killing it!” Brindle grabs her glass, holding it up. “To Sable!”

“To Sable!” we all cheer, and clink glasses before drinking our mojitos.

I usually have wine, but I’m so far outside my comfort zone tonight, I’d drink gasoline if it would take the edge off my nerves.

“I can’t believe Sable doesn’t want to live on that stage,” Brindle says.

Surge was a hometown band before billionaire Kane Bad walked in and offered them a chance to tour with his brother Johnny’s band. Sable never wanted to tour, but she agreed for her band’s sake, which was why this would be her first and only tour.

“She wants to spend time with Kane,” Amber says.

“I don’t blame her,” Morgyn says. “The man owns half the East Coast, and he looks at Sable like she’s worth more than all of it put together. He’s also generous to a fault.” Kane paid for all our rooms at the lavish Hôtel de Crillon.

“You know he’s got to be all that and a whole lot more in the bedroom to have hooked Sable’s heart,” Brindle says.

“This is Sable we’re talking about,” Morgyn points out. “He’s got to be a hell of a lover in every room, on the roof, in the yard, in her truck.”

We all laugh.

I lean in so they can hear me over the music. “You know darn well she wouldn’t want to live on that stage even if she wasn’t with Kane. She doesn’t like being a public commodity.” My thoughts race back to Clay, who seems to gobble up the attention his celebrity status brings. And just like that I’m fighting the urge to steal a glance at him again, which annoys the crap out of me.

I take another swig of my drink and watch Sable burn up the stage, refusing to let Clay’s presence rattle me to the point of stealing the joy of watching her. I focus on the beat of the music and the excitement of the crowd, welcoming it as the mojitos work their magic. I dance with my sisters, giving myself over to the music until it becomes a part of me, like I did as a kid when our grandparents would take us to concerts. I had forgotten how that could happen, and as the beat thrums through my veins, I feel more alive than I have in years.

“Is it just me,” Amber says loudly, “or has Sable’s music gotten even better since she fell for Kane?”

“Haven’t we all gotten better with love?” Morgyn says. “I felt a change the minute Graham and I came together.”

Swinging my hips to the beat, I say, “That was your hormones speaking.”

“Maybe partially, but I knew he was the one when I met him at the music festival, and the universe did, too,” Morgyn insists. “That’s why it answered my manifesting and brought us back together at Grace’s wedding,” Grace is our oldest sister. She’s three months pregnant, and after suffering a miscarriage last year, she is playing it safe, opting to stay home instead of joining us.

“Because it couldn’t have been a coincidence that his friend was marrying our sister,” I say sarcastically. Sometimes I think about how much easier life would be if I were more like my sisters and could believe that merely existing, or manifesting, was enough to make all my dreams come true. I had some of that dreaminess in me when I was younger. I had even, on occasion, thrown caution to the wind, but that was before I knew how dangerous that could be.

I take another drink, reveling in the cool liquid sliding down my throat.

“O ye of little faith.” Morgyn points to me as we dance. “One day you’ll understand that all those facts you believe in don’t hold a candle to the power of the universe. With Graham, I’m happier and more creative than ever, and I get to live every moment with my best friend by my side. That’s the universe’s doing.”

“That’s the power of love,” Amber chimes in. “Dash makes me see myself and the world differently. I’m stronger because I know he’ll love me through whatever else life throws at us…”

As Amber goes on about her amazing husband, I can’t imagine a man making me stronger. If anything, one particular man is making me weaker, because the draw to look at him is too strong to deny. I cave and steal a glance at Clay. He’s watching the band, flanked by two beautiful women. Maybe it’s the alcohol speaking, but I have the strange thought that he’s more beautiful than the women are.

He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, turning his head slightly, and catches me staring.

Again.

Shitshitshit. If I turn away, it’ll look like I am staring at him, which is true, but I don’t want him to know that. He grins and winks, and I tell myself to look away, but I’m like a deer caught in the headlights. Suddenly all I see is that spark of interest in his eyes, the tempting curve of his mouth, and his big hand moving up the back of his neck. I remember the heat of that hand on my thigh and imagine how good it would feel beneath the denim. My body goes hot just as he flashes an exasperated look, yanking me from my ill-timed fantasy.

I don’t know if that look is aimed at me for reacting to his wink with a blank stare, or if it’s a conspiratorial look. Like he’s letting me in on a secret that I don’t understand. In any case, I go for the nothing-going-on-here move, shifting my gaze slightly to the left, as if I’ve been looking beyond him at Axsel standing by the bar the whole time, then quickly return my focus to Amber, who’s still talking about Dash.

“He makes me want to do things and see places I was afraid of before he came into my life.” Amber glances at Dash with a dreamy expression.

“He makes you want to do him,” Brindle says.

“In places you never dreamed of,” Morgyn adds.

Yes, Clay does. The thought comes unbidden, and my gaze flicks back to him without any thought. My heart nearly stops. He’s still watching me, and this time there’s no hiding the fact that I purposely looked at him. I tear my gaze away, gulp down the rest of my drink, and set the empty glass on a table.