Page 92 of Not Mine to Keep

“Just don’t fight,” I said, giving him an out from answering my question. His gaze softened a touch, probably from relief I’d changed the subject. “Or start a war. I’m nervous enough, and I need to spend the next few hours practicing. Please give me the teddy bear right now, not the asshole. I need sweet.”

That deep breath was another one I recognized. It was the breath he took right before giving in to me. “I’ll do my best to be cordial with him.”

“Cordialwas what we were supposed to be, and look what happened,” I reminded him, chills flying up my dress at the memory of “what happened” last night on his desk. His handprint really was still on my ass cheek. The sight of it had turned me on this morning when I saw it, post shower. “And you just rolled your eyes at me again. Third time’s the charm, though.”

“I don’t roll my eyes.”

“Sure, just like you’ll behave when Braden arrives,” I countered with the appropriate amount of sarcasm of a thirteen-year-old.

He shook his head and pulled his arm back. “You’re that concerned about the two of us in the same room, are you? Maybe you don’t want him seeing me with you. You have feelings for him.” Before I could kill that idea, he added after a frustrated sigh, “Fine. I’ll keep my distance until you’re ready to go to the venue tonight. I won’t watch you rehearse. Now, go practice before I change my mind.” Pivoting away, he made it three steps before asking, “What Stapleton song?”

When he faced me and our eyes met, a little tremble rocked through my body as I shared the title. “‘Think I’m in Love With You.’”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Calliope

“You sure this is the right look?” Inside the en suite bathroom open to the bedroom, I studied my reflection in the mirror, feeling underdressed for the show.

“You’re giving total Carrie Underwood vibes.” Imani smiled. “It’s perfect. Simple up top is needed with those sexy-as-sin, fringy boots that go to your knees.”

“Maybe some bracelets and earrings, though.” Nala busied herself with fishing jewelry from her bag. Among the three of us, her sense of style was far more on point.

While waiting for her to finish the ensemble by adding jewelry, I focused back on the mirror. I had on short, frayed jean shorts, a big brown belt, and a cream-colored tank top—simple but also sexy, especially with the espresso-brown eye shadow and winged eyeliner that matched the color of the boots.

Nala slid the bracelets on my arm next, then I swept my long hair up so she could add the dangly earrings.

“Alessandro is gonna lose his mind. Your legs are fire.” Imani drummed her fingers against her lips. “Braden couldn’t take his eyes offyou during rehearsal, either. Not sure how he’ll handle being onstage without—”

“Alessandro wanting to deck him?” Nala beat me to it, because yeah, Braden had not only lectured me about my marriage earlier—thankfully at a safe distance away from Leo and Frankie—but also stared at me like he was in love with me while we’d played together.

The second Alessandro shared a room with him, he’d notice, and now I wasn’t sure how I’d missed the fact Braden had had feelings for me. Then again, growing up, I’d always found it easier to have a guy friend who was secretly crushing on me than girl friends who secretly hated me. Britt—case in damn point. Because a true friend wouldn’t sleep with your boyfriend.

“Her fancy-pants husband isn’t going to hit some guy for checking out his woman. Guys like him don’t do that.”

Oh, Imani. How very wrong you are ... at least about this particular “fancy-pants.”

Nala chuckled, then grabbed some shimmery powder and a brush and dusted it across my chest. “Rich boy or not, he’s got some fight in him. I could see it in his eyes earlier.”

At the knock on the bedroom door, I assumed it was Javier or one of Armani’s men in the living room of the suite beckoning us, but it was Alessandro who called out, “You ready?”

“Oh, she’s ready, all right.” Nala set down the bronzer and brush. “Let’s give them a minute alone before we leave.”

I was grateful we’d be meeting Braden on Broadway in the “beating heart of Nashville” instead of riding together.

Imani swung open the bedroom door, and what I didn’t expect was to see Alessandro standing there looking like a man who belonged in Nashville and not Mr. Fancy-Pants.

“Well, damn,” Nala said, shooting a quick look back at me from over her shoulder.

Damn is right.I swallowed at the sight of my husband’s outfit that would “blend in” with our setting tonight, as I’d joked earlier in his office.

Once he’d moved out of the way to let Nala and Imani leave, he filled the doorway again, eyes flying over my outfit, and I stood there studying him right back.

Well-worn jeans. A denim button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A black cowboy hat and dark-brown boots.

“Tecovas?” I murmured in surprise while going to him. I knelt and lifted a jean leg to confirm whether I was right. “You’re wearing my favorite brand of cowboy boots.” I looked up at him while letting the leg of his jeans fall, and he was staring down at me with narrowed eyes.

That deep breath ... Oh yeah, that was his “control is about to snap” one. I focused on his crotch and realized why it’d beenthatbreath of all breaths. After a little awkward throat-clear from me, he offered his hand and helped me stand.

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