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The band counts off and begins to play. Razor is incredible behind the drums. I find my gaze drawn to him again and again as I mix drinks and take orders, trying to keep up with the rush. He’s fascinating to watch, playing with masterful skill as he flips his sticks and pounds out the rhythm, throwing his entire body into the performance. He and his bandmates interact with playful camaraderie, making it obvious that they share a deep, abiding love between them. They aren’t just a group of people who play in a band. They’re friends… family.
The crowd is energized and having a blast.
“I’d like to dedicate this final song to the love of my life,” Bender says into the microphone. “London, thank you for teaching me what it means to truly live.”
The crowdawwsbefore the band launches into a love ballad. My gaze drifts to Razor, only to find him watching me, his piercing stare intense. I get sucked into his gaze, and everyone else in the bar disappears. I don’t know how long we stare at each other. Forever, it feels like.
But as the final strains of the song end, I feel a familiar prickling on the back of my neck. I turn to peer over my shoulder but don’t see anyone. It’s strange. More and more over the last week, I’ve felt like someone is watching me, but no one is ever there. It happens at work, at home, and at random moments around town. I’ve started leaving all the blinds closed at home. I think I’m becoming paranoid.
I shake the unsettling feeling off and turn back to the stage just in time to see Razor toss his sticks and jump from the stage. He wades through the crowd toward me. My heart pounds like… well, like drums against my breastbone, beating wildly.
“You ran away from me today,” he growls, his gaze climbing all over me when he finally reaches the bar. “I’m mad as hell, pretty baby.”
“I didn’t…” The protest dies in my throat when he cocks a brow. “I was nervous,” I whisper instead of finishing the lie.
“Because of the crowd?”
“Because of you.” The truth pops out before I can call it back. My cheeks heat.
Razor grins at me, reaching across the bar to touch the side of my face. Electric sparks dance from his skin to mine, sinking bone deep. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. We’re going to be intimately acquainted.”
“We are?” I frown at him.
“Oh, yeah.” His gaze settles on my lips, his ocean eyes turning dark and stormy. “Heard somewhere that you should always know everything about the woman you’re going to marry.”
“I…” I gape at him, pretty sure he’s lost his mind.
“We have a problem.” He grimaces. “Several, actually.”
“We do?”
Maybe losing his mind isn’t a recent development? Poor Razor. I bet the stress of being famous cracked him like an egg. It has to be hard to have the whole world screaming your name all the time.
“Maybe you should sit down,” I suggest. “I can get you something to drink. Or water. Maybe water would be best.”
“I don’t want a fucking drink,” he growls. “I want to know what name I should be groaning when I’m fucking my hand tonight, pretty baby.”
“Adalynn,” I blurt, and then immediately slap a hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I just told him that!
“Adalynn,” he repeats. Only, he makes my name sound sinful. “Fuck, that’s sexy.”
“My adopted mom named me,” I murmur. She wanted to give me and my sisters a fresh start, without the shadows of the past hanging over us. Our old names never fit us, but the ones she picked do.
“You’re adopted, baby?”
“Since I was ten,” I say, fidgeting when I feel someone staring at me again. I cast another glance over my shoulder, scanning the bar. There are people everywhere, dozens of them staring at Razor and me in avid interest. But they all discreetly glance away as if embarrassed to be caught staring. None of them feels… off, not like the creepy feeling I get at random moments for no reason.
“What’s wrong?” Razor asks.
“Nothing,” I mumble, brushing off the feeling.
“Bullshit,” he growls. “Tell me.”
“It’s nothing. I just thought…” I shake my head. “I think I’m losing my mind, is all.”
“You thought someone was watching you, didn’t you?”
I blink wide eyes at him. “How did you know that?”
