Page 36 of Ever With Me

A wicked gleam lit his expression. “Are you still worried I want to spank you? This isn’t one of those types of deals. There are no safe words with me.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you.” She stared at his hand.

“That was never on the table.” He continued to hold his hand out. “I won’t make you an offer again.”

Her mind raced. She hadn’t expected him to turn the tables on her like this. “But you said you can’t guarantee your band will be there.”

“You let me worry about that. Five seconds or no deal, Madison.”

“Wait, but?—”

“Five . . . four . . .”

Shit.He wasn’t even letting her think about this.

What’s the worst thing he could ask me to do?She knew nothing about him, after all.

“. . . two . . . one.”

She thrust her hand into his. His fingers enclosed around hers, a sizzle of electric current seeming to leap through his touch. A smirk played on his lips. “Good girl.”

“You’re a real ass, you know that?”

“I’d be offended if you thought otherwise. You know how long it’s taken me to spread that rumor?” He released his grip. “You can go. I’ll call you when I figure out what I need you for.”

She drew her hand back, suddenly drained of all confidence.

Did I just make a deal with the devil? Something I now doubt I’ll win?

12

BROOKS

Audrey’s crypierced the silence of the night.

Brooks sat in his bed, listening. After a long wail sounded, Brooks tossed his sheets to the side and hustled to the room beside his. Audrey had insisted he lie down with her to fall asleep, but he’d left once she was solidly out.

Now she was awake and sitting up in the bed, crying.

Brooks flipped on the light on the bedside table, and she covered her eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. “What happened?” he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.

Damn.His heart pounded in his chest.

“You left,” Audrey wailed, throwing herself into his arms.

Brooks gathered her into his arms and kissed the top of her head, holding her close. Lying back against the pillows, he reached over and flipped the light back out again, then rubbed her back.

She was so much like Kayla it wasn’t funny.

Mom had started leaving Kayla alone with him at the house when he was eight and Kayla was just one. North Carolina didn’t have a legal age for babysitting, and Mom needed all the help she could get. So it was Brooks’s bed that Kayla slept in more often than not. He’d learned to change diapers, make formula—all of it—while most other kids his age were playing outside or on their gaming systems.

Sports weren’t an option, mostly because Mom had no extra money to spend on registration. She needed him home anyway. So he’d found a hobby in his dad’s old guitar and library books on how to play.

Kayla had loved to hear him play.

When she had nightmares, it was the one thing that calmed her down more than anything else.

But that was then, when playing the guitar was something he shared just with Kayla. She was his only audience, the only one who listened. Kayla’s rapt attention made him want to play better, sing better, and eventually, write songs.

---