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She watched as she was singing into the mic, Presley staring at her like he hated and loved her at the same time.
“You two are fucking gold together.”
“Our voices work well,” she murmured, almost certain that Alex finding out about the other night would be the last thing Pres would want.
“I used to sing sometimes,” Alex told her, changing the subject. “Maybe we should try a song together.”
She tipped her head, surprised. “Is that a euphemism?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No, but should it be?” He shrugged. “If you ever need somebody to sing a song with, I’m your guy.”
“I’ve heard a little about you and keyboardists,” she said, batting off his suggestion. Presley or no Presley, she’d never go there.
“So you’ve been talking about me?” he said, looking pleased at that.
The man was virtually impossible to dislike. Sure he was a bad flirt, but he didn’t mean anything by it.
“I’ve been warned off,” she told him, trying not to grin. “And it was effective.”
He took a sip of beer and gave her a lopsided smile. “You’ll change your mind.”
“You have a big opinion of yourself,” she said lightly.
“I figure if I don’t have it, nobody else will. You’ve got to be your own biggest supporter in this game. It’s dog eat dog.” He looked down at his phone. “Hell yeah, we have our first like.”
“Does that make us famous?” she asked dryly.
“No, but we will be.” This time he wasn’t smiling. He was deadly serious. And she hated to burst his bubble and point out that they were just a little band in a small town that got the locals excited.
Let him ride the wave of the euphoria for a little longer.
“Sure.” She smiled at him, lifting her glass.
Over his shoulder she noticed Presley had stopped talking. His eyes were on hers.
He looked annoyed about something.
“I’ll tell you what, let’s make a bet,” Alex said. “If we get famous, you owe me a date.”
“It’s not going to happen.” She was certain of that.
“Then there’s no reason to refuse the bet.”
She frowned. “That’s the first logical thing I’ve heard you say all night. It’s kind of scary.”
“Is that a yes?”
“You’re not getting a kiss.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “But you’re getting famous.”
A chill went down her spine despite the heat of the room. She looked up again. Presley was back talking to his cousin, shaking his head at something she’d said.
Truth was, she didn’t want to be famous. She liked things the way they were. Easy. Fun. In control.
Especially the control part. Because her life had been out of her control for so long, it felt like she was finally getting back on an even keel.
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