Mel nodded slowly as she took in my words. “That would make a lot of sense, actually.”
“Or…maybe she just likes sparkly rainbows.”
Mel slapped my arm playfully with a quiet laugh. “Probably much more accurate.”
“The masks are a crowd favorite too.” The opening number, when Nova, her backup singers and the dancers came out, all with different styles of masquerade masks, had sent the audience through the roof every night.
She nodded. “I have to admit, Dexter knocked it out of the park with that idea and choreography. I’m almost willing to forgive him for leaking that the tour was canceled.”
Whether Dexter should be called out on that had been a source of discussion between our team and Mel before the tour started. Jace had found proof it had been Dexter. Ultimately, we’d finally decided it would do more harm than good to disrupt Nova’s inner circle this late in the game.
But you could believe my team was watching Dexter Deeds like a hawk.
“How’s everything going for you?” Mel asked.
“All clear so far. How are you holding up?”
She turned back toward the stage where Nova was hitting a particularly impressive high note. “Four for four on sold-out shows. The reviews have been amazing. Nova’s on cloud nine.”
“And her manager?”
Mel’s smile turned wry. “Her manager is running on coffee and adrenaline, but hanging in there.”
I studied her profile, noting the faint shadows under her eyes. “You look tired.”
“Gee, thanks.” She bumped my shoulder lightly with hers. “Just what every woman wants to hear.”
“I didn’t mean?—”
“I know what you meant.” Her smile softened the words. “And yes, I am tired. But it’s a good tired. We’re actually ahead of schedule on most things, which is unheard of for a Nova Rivers production.”
“Credit to the manager.”
“And the security team.” She glanced up at me. “Having you guys handle all the venue coordination has been a game-changer. I usually spend half my time arguing with local security about their protocols.”
“Like our friend in Asheville last night?”
“Exactly like him. Total nightmare.”
I’d been keeping our private channel open during these backstage conversations, turning down the main security frequency to create the illusion of privacy. It wasn’t exactly standard protocol, but these moments with Mel had become something I looked forward to each night.
We hadn’t talked about the kiss. There hadn’t been time. Between final tour preparations, the chaos of opening night, and the constant movement from city to city, we’d barely had five minutes alone together outside of these backstage moments. But I caught her looking at me sometimes, a flush coloring her cheeks when our eyes met, and I knew she was thinking about it too.
“We should have a proper conversation sometime,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Maybe dinner, when things calm down a bit.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Cross?”
“I’m suggesting a security briefing with refreshments.”
She laughed, the sound barely audible over the music but no less affecting. “Smooth.”
“I try.”
Nova hit the final note of her ballad, and the theater erupted in cheers. The lighting shifted, signaling a transition to one of her more upbeat numbers.
“I’ll need to check on the quick-change in a minute,” Mel said, glancing at her watch. “But yes.”
“Yes?”