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A smile graced his lips. “She was. High school. She loved teaching. I learned to play the piano before I could ride a bike. There was always music in our house, whether it was the radio, or my mom on the piano, or my dad playing the guitar. She also sang in her church choir; she was a great alto vocalist.”
“But you never caught the performing bug?”
Van shook his head.
“I picked up a lot of instruments with ease, but I was good, not great. I just didn’t have that drive to be on stage. You know what I mean, you have to want it more than anything. But I still loved music, and I wanted to work in the industry. So I did a double major in college—music and business. And I started writing. But I couldn’t live off that in the beginning. Still, songwriting feels natural to me and probably where my real talent lies. And, of course, managing unruly rock stars and their crazy lives.”
I had a mind to ask him why he didn’t write full time now, but then his phone buzzed and jolted on the tabletop, interrupting our conversation.
He picked it up and began to tap and swipe, his frown growing deeper the longer he scrolled.
“Greg’s office has taken the liberty of choosing your date for the night since you haven’t responded,” Van bit out.
I held out my hand, and he passed over his phone.
My “date” for Halloween was a stunning man with copper hair, pale blue eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and a pout that, a year ago, I would’ve had no hesitation exploring. Greg certainly knew how to pick a hot man.
I passed the phone back and watched Van’s face.
“The guy’s name is Colm McDade. He’s a twenty-five-year-old model and actor, currently starring in a reality TV show here in New Orleans. He’s also just landed his first major movie role,” Van read out. “He’ll show up before the concert for a meet and greet, stay for the show, and then on to the afterparty.”
“This is stupid,” I replied. “I don’t need a date, and I sure as fuck don’t want one. Not if he’s not you.”
“This is what Greg wants. It’s one night.”
“Can I ditch this guy at the afterparty?”
“There’ll be media on hand for part of it.”
“I’m going to call Greg and tell him to shove this stupid idea up his controlling ass.”
“Maybe you’ll change your mind,” Van stared at the screen. “I’m sure, given this model’s age, you’ll have much more in common with him than with me.”
Van wouldn’t look at me.
“Don’t. Don’t do that after everything that’s happened, especially not after today.”
Van took a sip of his coffee.
“I’m sorry. I just… this, you and me, now, feels surreal. In the very best way. But still. I feel like I’m gonna wake up tomorrow, and it will all be a dream.Un rêve fantastique.”
“It’s a fucking dream, all right, but it’s very real. It’s one that I’ve thought about and wanted for longer than you can imagine.”
I rubbed my knee against his under the table, and he let out a pained sigh.
“See? That’s what I’m talking about. You say things like that, and, well, no wonder you have guys lining up outside your bedroom door,” he mumbled.
“Hookups were different. I didn’t think about or talk to them this way.”
Van shook his head. “This heartfelt side of you is fucking with my head.”
“Which one?” I teased. “And you bring it out in me. When we first met, I thought this was a simple case of lust,” I pointed between us. “But then, as we got to know each other and worked together, the wanting never waned—just the opposite. We have a connection on so many levels and in a way that’s hard to put into words. I’ve never felt like this about any man. Just you.”
“Brodie—” Van leaned forward and reached for me but stopped short.
I didn’t have the same inclination. Fuck it.
I took his hand and held on tight. Then I slid my fingers along his wrist and found his pulse beating fast and strong.
