That . . . was a lot of money. Two seconds ago my decision was a vehement no, but that made me reconsider. That kind of dough would pay for Mom’s bills for a long time. “I can’t just make a unilateral decision. I have to talk to my bandmates. We’ll have to vote.”
“What if there’s a tie?”
“Oh,” I said with a wave of my hand, “then they wrestle or do some kind of complicated boy ritual to figure out who wins.”
He laughed, shifting closer to me. The arm on the back of my seat brushed against my shoulder, and goose bumps broke out on my flesh while tiny little shivers wrapped icy fingers around my nerves.
“Tell you what. There’s a diner two blocks from here. Brown Bear something. You go talk to your band, and I’ll wait there for half an hour. If you don’t show up, I’ll have my answer.”
Tonight? I had spent the last ten minutes trying to figure out how to put distance between us and never see him again because a teensy bit of me thought my rules were totally stupid and should be abandoned. Especially as I studied his strong, cut jawline and firm lips. The windows around us had started to fog up. Like we’d been in here making out.
As blood rushed to my cheeks, I realized I wanted to be in here making out. “I don’t know. It’s late. We’ll probably head home and go to bed.”
He leaned his head to one side. “Bzzz. Lie. I know you’re completely wired right now. Is this why you don’t date musicians? Because they see through your musical excuses?”
I didn’t date musicians because they were unreliable and thoughtless and ruined families.
Ryan seemed to edge closer to me. “Come on, you know opening for me would do great things for your career.”
“You should stick to stroking your ego in the privacy of your own home,” I shot back, not sure I would react appropriately if he moved even an inch nearer.
Ryan laughed, turning my resolve to mush. “Ego aside, you know what I said is true.”
“Do you really think you can just sit there and brag about how great you are while being all nice and helpful and attractive—”
It slipped out. It literally just slipped out.
“You think I’m attractive?”
“What? No.” Yes. “No.”
He moved closer again. “Who are you arguing with? Me or you?”
“I’m not arguing with myself.” Yes, I was.
“You said no twice.”
Desperate, I started grasping at straws. “That’s because I doubly mean it.”
“I don’t think that’s why you said it.” It was like his voice slowed and dropped with each movement, hypnotizing me.
I looked down at the floor, trying to break the spell. “O-oh? Then why did I say it, Mr. Knower of All Things?”
I gasped as his calloused fingertips gently brushed the underside of my chin, sending burning waves of want and frosty spikes of need through me. He raised my chin, making me look him in the eye.
Oxygen had ceased to exist.
“You said it because you’re fighting the fact that you’re attracted to me. I can feel it every time I get close to you. The way I make you shiver. I like it.” That last part came out as a growly whisper, and I shivered all over again.
He released me and leaned so far forward that although some part of my brain objected to the idea of him kissing me, every other cell in my body told it to shut up. His chest and face moved closer to mine, and he reached out his left arm.
Only he didn’t kiss me. He just opened my car door. It took a second for my legs to work, and even then, they still wobbled as I got out of the car.
“Half an hour,” Ryan said when I went to shut my door. “Don’t disappoint me, Maisy.”
I watched as he drove off and realized one of us was going to be very disappointed.
I just had to make sure it wasn’t me.
CHAPTER SIX
“Where were you?” Cole asked in a teasing tone when I found him at the bar. “Let me guess. You found the man of your dreams but were too aloof for him to notice you. That’s my IQ. Nobody scares men off the way you do.”
I hated when he called me IQ. I was about to tell him as much when I was interrupted.
“What? Maisy was roofied?” Parker repeated, obviously mishearing the word aloof. “Who do we have to beat up?”
“I am fine! All of you calm down!” I loved my siblings, but they needed to stop acting like we were living in the seventeenth century and they’d been personally enlisted by the king of England to guard my virtue.
“All joking aside, you know how dangerous clubs can be,” Fitz added, his worried expression making me feel a little guilty for not telling them where I was going.
“I’m fully aware of the dangers, thanks to your many hypocritical lectures.” How was I supposed to tell them what had just happened outside? I hardly believed it myself. “I think you guys should sit down. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
They warily did as I asked.
I stood silently for a moment, not sure what to say or how they would react. Better just to rip off the bandage all at once. “So this random thing happened. Ryan De Luna came to see us perform tonight. He liked what he saw, and he asked if we wanted to be his opening act for the rest of his tour.”
My brothers just gaped at me. Like I’d announced my recent return from exploring the planet Mars and discovered a new humanoid species there that made me their empress.
I told them the financial details and how Ryan was waiting to hear from us. “If we don’t meet him at the Brown Bear diner in half an hour, he’ll assume the answer is no.”
“Ryan De Luna was here. Tonight. He listened to us play, and now he wants us to open for him? The biggest tour of the year?” Parker said each word slowly and carefully.
I nodded. “That’s what I just said.”
“And he’s at the Brown Bear diner right now, waiting for us to say yes or no?”
“Do you guys have a hearing problem? Yes, he wants us to open for him, and yes, he’s waiting for our answer.”
All three brothers exchanged glances and without another word jumped to their feet and sprinted for the back door. Fitz grabbed my wrist, pulling me alongside him as they ran.
When we were all in the van and Parker had somehow coaxed the beast into starting, I asked, “Does that mean you’re interested?”
Fitz looked at me like I was especially dumb. “This is the biggest opportunity we’ve ever gotten. We’d have to be total idiots to pass it up. I just don’t understand why he’d want us to open for him. We’re not going to bring in any new fans. Everybody in the audience would be there just to see him, and we’d get to benefit from it.”
“Yeah, and what he’s offering salary-wise is really generous, given where we’re at in our career,” Cole added. “He could have paid us a lot less. Why would he pay us so much?”
“Maybe he’s just a nice guy.” It was something I had been considering since I left his car. I had initially assumed he was an arrogant, playboy douchebag, but maybe I’d been wrong. Fitz often told me I should give people the benefit of the doubt, that I was too quick to jump to conclusions and didn’t let them explain themselves. Maybe I’d done that with Ryan.
We were stopped at a red light. All of my brothers turned to stare at me, and I could see the moment when all three light bulbs lit up over their heads.
“He wants you,” Parker said, forced to face forward as the light changed. “This is about you.”
“No way. This is not about me. I have made it very clear to him that I’m not interested. At all. The night I met him backstage? He was a total jerk to me. I called him names. The only reason I didn’t hit him was because he has big, scary bodyguards. And I really laid into him. You guys would have been proud.”
“Maybe that’s what he’s into,” Parker murmured to Cole, who nodded.
I threw up my hands in exasperation. “You guys are seriously the stupidest people ever.”
“The thing is, Maze, s
omeone like Ryan De Luna is not like the guys around here.” Fitz’s eyebrows knit together, concern showing all over his face. “You would be really out of your depth with someone like him.”
“If I wanted to date him, there’s nothing any of you could do about it. But I’m telling you I don’t, and you should listen to me and believe me.”
“Even if he tries to make a move on Maisy, and we have to rough up his pretty-boy face”—Cole kept talking like I hadn’t even said anything—“it wouldn’t matter. This will get our name out there in a big way, and if people like what they see, we’ll book new tours and sell our songs. We might finally be able to make a living as artists.”
That hadn’t occurred to me until he’d pointed it out. That opening for Ryan might mean opening for other acts. That we would get to travel all over the world, performing for thousands of people, building a name for ourselves, gathering a fan base that would actually buy our music.
Ryan was offering to help us start down the path that would lead to everything we’d ever wanted.
It seemed too good to be true. “Do I get a say in this? Like always, you guys have decided what we’re doing without even asking what I want.”
“Okay, IQ, what do you want?” Cole asked.
“Don’t call me that. I don’t know what I want. But what if I say no, I don’t want to tour with Ryan De Luna?” I couldn’t imagine months of my brothers jumping to idiotic conclusions where he and I were concerned.
“We need the money.” Parker looked at me in the rearview mirror.
I let out a big sigh. My siblings loved deciding things for me, which I hated, but this was one situation even I knew I couldn’t refuse.
Cole seemed to sense my acceptance. He patted me on the knee. “You can say no if you want, but then we’d always think less of you.”
We pulled up in front of the diner. I felt both relief and a bit of panic when I saw that Ryan’s car was there. As we climbed out of the van, I was hit with the smell of pumpkin pie, my absolute favorite. It had been so long since we’d stopped by this diner that I’d forgotten they served it year-round. I worried a bit about how the introductions would go but stopped with my hand on the front door when I realized my brothers had stayed on the sidewalk, near the van. “What are you doing?”
“Go on ahead of us. We’re going to have a discussion on how to handle your new boyfriend,” Cole said.
If I kept rolling my eyes this hard, I was going to permanently detach them from my eye sockets. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not even boyfriend-adjacent. We’re not going to date, and the quicker you Neanderthals get that through your furrowed foreheads, the easier your lives will be. Now I’m going in not because you told me to but because I really want pie.”
Holding up my head, I marched inside. Just as I remembered it. Black-and-white-checkered floor, a long Formica counter running the length of the restaurant, and booths with black vinyl seats. There weren’t many people in the diner, and Ryan sat all the way in the back, near the bathroom. He had his hat and glasses on. “Hey,” I said, sliding into the booth.
He sported that bone-melting smile again. “I didn’t know if you’d come.”
“Here I am.” Yeah, this wasn’t at all awkward. How was it possible for one person to be this good-looking? He sat there looking like a half-Latino Clark Kent. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was so handsome he could have been a movie star, he had this . . . power. This draw that made it so you didn’t want to look away from him. Like he was the sun and you were the planet formerly known as Pluto, desperately wishing you weren’t so far apart but knowing he would burn and consume you with just one touch if you altered your orbit to get closer.
He was so gorgeous he made you think inappropriate things.
Not that it had ever happened to me.
“What about the rest of the band?”
“Outside, acting like morons.” I pointed at them as a waitress approached. I asked for the pumpkin pie and told her to bring some for Ryan as well. He started to protest, but I insisted she bring it.
“I don’t really eat processed sugar,” Ryan said. “I’m into the whole clean-living thing.”
“Me, too. Although sometimes my clean living includes eating a pound of fudge at midnight.”
He nodded seriously. “Sometimes you just have to eat a pound of fudge at midnight.”
“You say that like you’ve done it.”
“Oh no, I don’t have food issues.”
Without thinking, I leaned over and smacked him on his manly forearm. “I don’t have food issues!”
He laughed. “The pounds of fudge consumed at midnight would suggest otherwise.” Which made me laugh, too.
The waitress returned with our slices of pie, topped off with Cool Whip, and we both thanked her. I immediately dug in and couldn’t help but let out a little moan when the combination of pumpkin, ginger, cinnamon, and nutmeg hit my tongue. “This is seriously the best thing that has ever happened to my mouth.”
“That’s sad.”
He was such a flirt. And I had the racing heart rate to prove it.
“It’s not sad. It’s amazing. Try it.”
Ryan took one tiny bite, just enough to taste it. “It is good. But I can say with all confidence that it’s not the best thing that’s ever happened to my mouth.” The fiery intensity of his stare was enough to make my Cool Whip melt.
I swallowed hard. He was making this difficult. I was going to go on tour with him unless my idiot brothers were outside coming up with a way to ruin that, and I didn’t know how I would be able to handle a sweet, nice, flirtatious Ryan De Luna.
Maybe it was just a waiting game. If I gave him enough time, he’d go back to accusing me of using his cousin to make him jealous. Or bragging about how great he was or how women worshipped him. Something.
Then I could get over this teeny physical crush I had on him.
Okay, this King Kong–size physical crush I had on him.
Trying to look away from him was like trying to pry two really powerful magnets apart. There was a lot of resistance. I somehow managed it, though, averting my gaze down. I saw the same paper he’d had at the bar.
“What’s with the Korean newspaper?”
“It’s a little trick I learned from a story about David Bowie. He used to walk around New York and never be approached. He said it was because he always carried a Greek newspaper. Like people would see him and think, ‘Is that David Bowie?’ and then they’d figure it couldn’t be and that he was a Greek guy who just looked like him.”
“Except for the fact that nobody reads real newspapers anymore. You’d think it would actually draw more attention to you.” I didn’t get how other people could stop staring at him. So far I hadn’t figured it out.
Ryan shrugged. “It mostly works. That, and people tend to overlook you if you’re somewhere they don’t expect you to be. Like this diner.”
Stop staring at him. You’ve seen good-looking men before. Why are you acting like this is the first time it’s ever happened?
I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know what was wrong with me.
“So, tell me the names of the other guys in your band.”
That startled me and let me know how long it had been since I’d last spoken. So long he felt like he had to keep moving the conversation forward. “Um, the tallest one is Fitz, the one in desperate need of a haircut is Parker, and the one waving his arms around is Cole.”
“Since you don’t date musicians, do you just hook up with them instead? Any history there I should know about? Touring with exes can get complicated.”
I choked on my pie and tried very hard not to gag. “Ew. Gross. Zero history. They’re my brothers. And the no-dating thing includes hooking up. I don’t, how did you put it, notch with musicians, either. That’s also a rule.”
“So, what, you notch nonmusicians?”
I could feel the flush burning its way through all my layers of skin, setting my cheeks on fire.
“No.”
His eyebrows flew up. “Seriously? You’ve never—”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but never. It’s something I plan on waiting for. Until I get married.” After watching my mother throw away her entire adult life, I had no intention of following in her footsteps. I would never give that much of myself to just some guy. Especially some musician guy. The only way I could imagine it ever happening was if I was so committed to someone, and so trusted him, that I was willing to marry him.
Marriage was something else I didn’t imagine myself doing anytime soon.
But it wasn’t really appropriate diner conversation.
Thankfully, he changed the subject. “They’re all your brothers? Even . . .”
“Even Cole,” I said firmly, not willing to explain our sordid family history at this point in our professional interaction.
Because that’s all this would ever be. Strictly professional.
He got the hint. “Is Fitz short for something?”
“Fitzgerald. Our father wanted to name us all after famous jazz musicians. Cole is short for Coltrane, and then Parker couldn’t really be shortened.”
Ryan ate another tiny sliver of pie. “I don’t know anyone in jazz named Maisy.”
I pushed down the lump in my throat as I thought of my mom. “My mother insisted that I be named after my grandmother. So my middle name is Ellington. When I was little, my mom used to call me Maisy Ell. Have you heard that old song about Daisy?”
He shook his head, so I hummed a few bars and sang the chorus.
Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do
I’m half-crazy all for the love of you
It won’t be a stylish marriage
I can’t afford a carriage
But you’ll look sweet upon the seat
Of a bicycle built for two
“That sounds familiar.” Ryan nodded.
“Anyway, most people don’t know this, but for the rest of that song the girl is referred to as ‘Daisy Bell.’ My mom used to sing me that song all the time but used Maisy Ell. For most of my childhood I thought it had been written about me.”
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