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“Oh, great.” I do my best to sound chipper, but I’m pretty sure David knows I’m not happy.
Rand steps back and into the glow of overhead lights. He’s even more striking. The wide diagonal scar through his left eyebrow that skipped over his eye and sliced its way down his cheek before stopping short of his mouth only gives him a sexier edge. Ironically, when he gestures me out of the doorway and into a deserted hall, I find myself gawking like I’m the fan staring at a heartthrob.
David hangs back, watching Rand settle an enormous, furnace-hot hand on my naked skin above the backless dress’s scooped edge. He smiles.
What are you up to?
I don’t have time to ask before Rand hustles me out of the little shop and guides me down the back of the parade route, flanking me as he escorts me to my waiting float, all while maintaining his palm on my bare back. It’s all I can do not to shiver at his touch.
“Do you know where I’m supposed to go?” I ask to cut the tension.
“Yes.”
“Do you know the parade route?”
“Yes.”
“Did David arrange for you to ride the float with me?” It’s a must since I’ve had a few unnerving incidents over the last couple of years.
“Yes.”
Clearly, Rand Garrison isn’t a talker.
“Anything else I should know?”
“No.”
Damn, he’s probably the most attractive man I’ve ever met—and that’s saying something—but he seemingly has zero interest in me. Between the people I meet in this business and the internet, I get propositioned a lot. I’m rarely tempted. Now that I might be…he’s not. Just my luck.
It doesn’t matter. After today, I’ll never see this guy again. I just need to perform for the next couple of hours and get on with my life.
“I’m sorry you have to bother with me today. I’m sure you have more important things to worry about.”
The crowd thickens around us as more people finish the last-minute details for their floats and the accompanying performances. Rand turns watchful. Tense. He looks at everything and everyone with suspicion. “I don’t.”
He’s on the job, and he takes work seriously. I get it. I’m still nervous before the start of every gig, too… But he acts as if every minute could be life or death. Then again, in his world it might.
“I appreciate you putting up with me in the crowd and this heat.”
He doesn’t reply until we reach the float. Then he fits his hands around my waist as if I’m no bigger than a doll and lifts me onto it. “You making it to the end in one piece is thanks enough.”
Suddenly, he’s beside me on the float, a red, white, and blue spectacular celebrating America’s past and future with a pair of flags and a stage between them. Once he hands me up to the platform, I’m surrounded by a troupe of dancers in patriotic costumes.
Rand positions himself behind them, doing his best to blend into the background, but he still stands out.
This dress leaves no room for my phone, and I can’t wear a watch with this getup, but from the crowd and the flurry of activity, I surmise it’s nearly time.
Frowning, I glance around for the microphone prop that’s supposed to be waiting. Finally I spot it, then take the familiar shape in hand.
A middle-aged woman dashes by and looks up at me, clipboard in one hand, phone pressed to her ear with the other. “Thanks for joining us today, Ms. Larsen. It’s an honor. Are you ready?”
“Thanks for inviting me. I am.”
“Don’t forget, when you cross that intersection there”—she points—“your music will begin. You’ll sing for that block and part of the next, then your music will drop off. All you have to do after that is smile and wave until your float rounds the last corner.”
I haven’t done a ton of parades, but I’ve played arenas all over the world. This should be a piece of cake. “I understand.”
The woman stops looking harried long enough to smile at me. “Really, thanks for doing this. Our parade is always popular, but you coming back to your hometown today with us has probably tripled our spectators. We’re so excited!”
