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CHAPTERFOUR
“Since when do you have a twin?” She looked between the two men. “I’ve read everything there is to know about you. You’re from LA, you have two siblings, and you got discovered in a talent contest.”
It had all been lies.
“I’d assumed Martin filled you in,” Sexy Van said.
“I met him for five minutes before he left for the airport. His assistant emailed me the contracts, the calendar, and the to-do list this morning. Nobody told me anything.” Slowly, pieces fluttered into place. “This is why only two of you travel on the bus. Do the roadies even know?”
“Everyone who works for us knows and has signed an NDA.” Sexy Van watched her carefully. “It’s airtight.”
“Oh, my God, I’m not going to run out and sell this story to the media. I’m just trying to wrap my head around it.”
The other Van gestured toward the kettle. “It’s boiling, and I gotta jam.”
Sexy Van stuffed some of the new herbs into an infuser, dropped it into a travel mug, and handed it over.
The other Van didn’t take it.
“What’s wrong?” his brother asked.
The other Van looked a little embarrassed. “Can you put some honey in it? And lemon? I like how she made it this morning.”
“I put some ginger in it, too.” She nudged Sexy Van aside and doctored the herbal brew. “Here. Do you know where you’re going?”
The other Van gave her a lazy grin. “Look at you, just rolling with it. I like that.”
She wasn’t going to lie. She reveled in his approval. Like a pig in mud, she rolled around in it.
“The driver’s got the schedule.” Sexy Van wrapped his arms around his brother and whispered in his ear.
The other Van nodded, gave a sweet smile—as though he liked how his brother took care of him—and then left the bus.
It was honestly the sweetest, purest thing she’d ever seen.
Is it too soon to say I love these guys?
She was dying to call Micky and tell her everything. But, of course, she couldn’t. Instead, she said, “This is insane. How in the world have you pulled this off for ten years? And why have you done it?”
“It works for us.” Sexy Van got busy cleaning up the spilled herbs, putting their groceries away, and wiping down the counter.
“Is this how you sustain a long career, by taking turns being the lead singer?” Because that would be oddly clever.
“Nope. He’s the talent.”
The curtness in his tone had her watching him more carefully. “And you’re what? The businessman?”
He gave her a long, thoughtful look, and then nodded. “Something like that.”
She really should stop pushing him to answer questions that made him uncomfortable, but it was just so shocking. Twins?
Everything she thought she’d known about him was wrong. And it debunked her fantasy of being soulmates with the man behind the lyrics—considering she felt zero attraction for the artist who wrote them.
And all the yummy feelings for his brother, the businessman behind the scenes.
That’s fine.The whole idea was silly and childish anyway. How many people were convinced they’d be besties with Taylor Swift? Her mom had once said, Oh, Meryl Streep and I would be the best of friends. I just know it.
“So, I can’t call both of you Van. What’s your name?”
