Page 48 of Sing Your Secrets

Not a big deal…

He grabs both of my hands in his. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Green.”

He shakes his head a little. “More specific.”

“Um…a really dark, color-rich green. Like emerald.”

There are flames in his eyes as his crooked smile spreads across one side of his face. “That’s a pretty green.”

“Mhmm,” I say swallowing the lump in my throat. I part my lips, trying to invite him even closer.

“And what’s your middle name?”

“Robin.” My head starts to swim with his face this close. “My mom’s name.”

“Triple Rs,” Miles mumbles as his gaze latches onto my mouth. “Reese Robin Reyes.”

“Yeah…”

“Mine’s Drew.”

“Miles Drew Lorren.”

“Mmmm. I like that.” Now, kiss me already.

He presses his lips against mine teasingly. It’s barely a peck. The warmth of his soft lips is gone as soon as it enters. Then, the jackass rises, leaving me essentially kiss-less, returning to his side of the table, picking up his sandwich, and taking a big bite like it’s nothing—as if my heart isn’t misfiring, and my brain isn’t fuzzy.

“There. Now we’re two steps closer to uh…how did you put it the other night? Sliding it in?”

“You’re the worst.”

He snickers and I want to slap the playful look off his face…except it’s endearing, so let’s say softly slap. But the way he makes me smile, I am thoroughly confident Miles is worth the wait.

Unlike Quinn, and sometimes Mani, I have no hesitance about falling in love. I want it, but I have to feel it. I once had a taste of love and now I can’t settle for anything less. I’ve been wanting, wishing, waiting…patiently. And if good things come to those who wait, I’m pretty confident Miles is my shot at a damn good thing.

It’s probably best he’s controlling the pace at the moment. I like to bulldoze through intimacy to get to the answers. I want to know who a man becomes when he has me. That’s the real test. Once he gets what he wants—my attention, my heart, my body—how will he act? Am I enough? Loyalty, or lust? Are the quiet moments at home just as thrilling as the big wins on the road? Will he carry me? Will he let me carry him? These are the questions. And the last time I asked a man those questions…

I didn’t like the answers.

“Can I confess something?” He nods once with a skeptical look on his face. “I’ve heard you sing.”

“I know,” he says, “I was there on the sidewalk.”

“No, I mean I found your Instagram account.”

“Oh,” he says, sounding a little more uncomfortable.

“The Ginuwine mashup. Your old YouTube channel. Miles…” I trail off and wait until his eyes meet mine. “You’re incredible. And not in an ‘oh-bless-his-heart-for-trying’ kind of way. I don’t like fluffy generic compliments so I won’t do that to you. Specifically, your voice is rich, sultry, and artistic. You have great range and such a presence when you sing. Plus, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard a man pull off a falsetto without a little autotune help.”

“You sure know how to stroke a man’s ego.”

I smile and bite back my suggestive comment about what else I could be stroking. I don’t want to distract myself with crude humor at the moment. “What’s holding you back?”

“I’ve been pedaling my demo for years, Reese. All rejections. There have been a handful of different excuses, but I think the general gist is there’s nothing particularly intriguing about me and my music. Apparently, I’m not marketable.”

“According to who?” Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms.

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