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Milo flushed. He hadn’t realized he’d said that out loud. He shut his mouth and leaned forward, trying not to huff down the back of the guy in front’s shirt. He squinted.

Rowan didn’t have short hair.

Unless he’d cut it.

But that was illegal in all countries around the globe because Milo said so. So how dare he?!

No, no…this person seemed smaller than Rowan. And the scales weren’t exactly the same on his forearms. And his chest was woefully flat and not voluptuously perfect in every—

Milo yanked his brain back to earth in a clatter of instruments.

It had to be Rowan’s brother, or cousin. Or scary lookalike. But weren’t all the Rangecrofts in the family business? No, no! Rowan had mentioned his older brother was a concert pianist, hadn’t he? Milo hadn’t made that up.

He couldn’t trust his sleep-deprived brain.

“Do you think that person looks like Rowan?” he hissed into Ray’s ear.

Ray cringed from the velocity of his spittle but looked around before landing on the redhead at the piano.

“You sure he’s on a business trip and not moonlighting as his alter ego?” Ray murmured out of the side of his mouth.

“That can’t be him. Look at his chest! Rowan would never.”

“Have a perfectly normal chest with too many buttons rakishly undone?” Ray asked.

“Yes! He is well-endowed and buttoned up!”

“Then why are you freaking out?”

“Shhhhh!” Ethel said again, glaring at them.

They sat back in their seats, thoroughly chastised.

Milo’s legs bounced. And his fingers tapped. And he stared.

The intermission came around and only the close of the curtain broke Milo’s gawking in the redhead’s direction. He felt woozy as the lights came up.

“Bathroom break,” Ethel said.

Milo nodded along absently, stretching his neck to see if there was a gap in the curtain.

“Bladders are not going to hold,” Ethel said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Milo jumped into action, leading his trail of old ducklings to the nearest accessibility toilet with Ray bringing up the rear. He got them in a line and jigged on the spot.

“Do you need to go too?” Ethel asked. “I can wrangle these lot with Ray’s help.”

Milo never would have dreamed of saying yes, but something about that redhead had him agreeing before his brain could catch up.

Ray gave him a weird look as he walked off toward the backstage area and the usher standing there, looking polite but bored.

“Hi. Uh, this is probably a weird question,” he said. “But the redhead—”

The usher rolled his eyes. “Third door on the left. Make it quick.”

Milo’s brain stuttered. “Huh?”

“I told him I wasn’t doing this for him anymore. He’s going to get me fired,” the guy complained, urging him through the curtained door. “Don’t let anyone see you. You probably know the drill.”