Page 46 of Blacklist

“Gotcha.”

Poppy’s new friend struts out of his building in a body-skimming gray tee and board shorts more suited to SoCal than Valmont. Bangs sweep his forehead and I can’t help but think he looks like a young Keanu Reeves—but with a lot more confidence. I flash the car’s brights in encouragement of his runway moves.

“Nice ride,” he says appreciatively as he climbs into the back seat.

I swivel around and stick out a hand. “Adair MacLaine. I think we’re going to be friends.”

“Kai Miles.” He takes it. “I am in the market for friends.”

Poppy and I share a look before we burst out laughing. Everyone’s in the market for something tonight. The question is what are the chances we find much worth buying in Valmont. I’ve sampled the stock. There’s not much around here that interests me.

“Thanks for being a DD,” Kai says.

I roll my eyes into the rearview mirror. Wires have been crossed, it seems.

“I’m not DDing.”

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “I thought Poppy said…”

“We won’t need a ride home, darling,” Poppy interrupts him. “Adair’s place is just down the way. We can crash there.”

“Is there room?”

I glance at Poppy. Has she prepared him at all? “We’ve got the space, but Poppy doesn’t drink, so it hardly matters.”

“I have wine every now and then,” she says defensively.

“When do you have wine?” I’ve never seen her touch a drop of booze.

“When I visit my Grandmum in Surrey.”

“Are you sure you aren’t too sophisticated for an old-fashioned Valmont house party?” I place the back of my hand to my forehead and feign a swoon of admiration.

“Shut up!” She bats at me, accidentally hitting the steering wheel and the car swerves, narrowly avoiding a ditch.

“That’s why she can’t DD,” I explain to Kai. “We’ll wind up in a ditch even if she’s sober. You can crash with us unless you’re desperate to get back to the dorms tonight, but you’ll be taking your life into your own hands.”

“I’ll take my chances on your couch.”

“We have to sneak into the guesthouse,” I warn them. “I can’t deal with my brother anymore tonight.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go home,” Poppy says suggestively.

“Have you been replaced by a sexbot?” I ask her. “Where’s my best friend?”

“I just mean—there might be someone you’re hoping to run into?” she suggests, waggling her brows. “Someone who gets you all fired up?”

This time I nearly put us in a ditch. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.” Poppy is a crap liar. Guilt is practically stamped across her forehead.

“No. There is no one I’m hoping to see.” I want to call her out. If she did what I think she’s done, there goes the evening. Not to mention that she had to call Cyrus to do it. So much for her resolution to give up on him. I feel the empowerment I’d discovered at Valmont leak away. So I turn up the radio to croon along to a Carrie Underwood song. Kai holds his own, belting it almost as impressively she does. When the song ends, Poppy claps wildly. “Nice pipes!”

“I have my reasons for coming to Nashville,” Kai admits. “Not that country music is in need of a gay Hawaiian.”

“I think that’s exactly what country music needs,” I disagree, already mentally going through my contacts list. Kai is seriously talented and Nashville is full of producers looking for the next big star. I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to make promises I can’t keep.

Kai fills us in on his musical aspirations the rest of the way to Northern Valmont.