Once Upon a Sure Thing (Heartbreakers #2)

I didn’t start a band with Miller to fall into his arms. There’s a sleeping girl in the other room who needs me to always be here for her, to take care of her. The band is supposed to be part of that. It helps me provide for her, and the better Miller and I lure in fans, the more money we earn.

I allow myself one last peek at the video then hit end. Resolved, I grab Chloe’s school bill and write a check for the next tuition installment.



*

The second the door to Campbell’s spacious apartment snicks shut, I’m greeted by a chorus of “Hashtag ZimmerHart.”

Guess that name won’t die.

Mackenzie cups her hands around her mouth, calling out the title bestowed by the viral masses, while her good friend Roxy whistles in appreciation. Miles joins in, shouting, “The other half of Hot Stuff is here.” From his spot on the couch, Miller seems to soak in the praise as he grins at me. That smile of his does funny things to my chest.

Things I can’t entertain.

I try to make light of the comments, smiling as I yank off my mittens and take Chloe’s hat, stuffing both in my purse. “We’re just having fun.”

“Sure looked like the kind of fun I’d like to have,” Roxy says as she flicks a strand of her long red hair out from under her Mrs. Claus hat.

“It’s crazy fun for me too. I’ve never captured anything on video like this,” Jackson says as he rummages through a bowl of popcorn that Campbell’s daughter made.

I do my best demure smile, since that comes easily to me. “See? It’s fun for everyone.” I gesture to the tree to deflect attention. “Let’s tackle this bad boy.”



*

But the talk of the new musical duo dominates even as we decorate Campbell’s monster-size Christmas tree.

“You guys are going to be the next big thing,” Mackenzie says, her brown eyes sparkling as she rifles through a storage box, snagging a horseshoe ornament. “When will we see you on stage?”

“First show is next week,” I say, bouncing on my toes as I hang a fake candy cane from a low branch. “We booked a gig opening at a club in Soho.”

Her smile radiates. “That’s amazing. And you’re just a little excited, I take it?”

Laughing, I adjust the candy cane around a string of lights. “However could you tell?”

“I knew the two of you would work out,” Campbell says confidently, while hanging a mini stuffed-fox ornament in the middle of the tree.

“Of course it’s working out. She has the voice of a sexy angel, plus she’s better-looking than my brothers,” Miller says with a wink as “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town” blasts from the sound system.

Campbell claps him on the back. “Why play with your washed-up brothers when you can sing with a very lovely lady?”

Miles clears his throat dramatically, striding over to the tree with his son by his side. “Speak for yourself. I’m not washed up. Am I, Ben?”

Miles lifts his son to reach a high branch in the tree with a mini wooden caboose.

“No, Daddy. You took a shower this morning. I took a shower too. I decided I’m too old to take baths,” Ben says, informing us of his big decision.

Mackenzie pinches her nose. “I don’t care for baths either. It’s like sitting in a pool of dirty water.”

I snap my gaze to her, dropping my jaw. “You don’t like baths? I love luxuriating in the tub when I have the rare chance.”

She shakes her head adamantly. “I don’t have a tub, and I don’t miss it.”

Roxy raises a glass of eggnog. “Hear! Hear! I have a tub, but I don’t use it. I’m all shower, all the time.”

“A woman who loves showers,” Miles says in a raspy tone, wiggling his eyebrows at the leggy redhead.

I shift my gaze from him to her, and I swear he’s picturing Roxy in the shower. The dirty pervert.

Sam’s voice slices across the chorus. “Excuse me,” she booms like a megaphone. “Anyone else think it’s unacceptable that the adults are talking about baths in front of us? If you’re under eighteen and mortally offended, raise your hand.”

Jackson laughs and lifts his hand. Mackenzie’s son, Kyle, shoots up his palm. Chloe raises hers too. Sam sweeps through the living room, scoops up her towheaded cousin, and makes the youngest kid in the room wiggle his fingers. “See? Ben agrees.”

With him perched on her hip, she points accusingly at the lot of us. “All of you are hereby forbidden from discussing your bathing habits henceforth and forever and ever. Amen.”

Ben giggles and Sam gives him a big smoochy kiss on his forehead.

“We’re so sorry,” Mackenzie and Campbell apologize in unison, complete with bows of supplication.

“You’re forgiven,” Sam says magnanimously.

“No more bath talk, Ally,” Miller says to me in a low, flirty voice.

I press my hand to my chest, ever the innocent. “Hey! The bath talk was hardly my fault.”

“I know,” he says, his voice dipping into a low growl, “but now I know you’re a mermaid.”

My lips part, and heat splashes across my cheeks. He makes mermaid sound like the most decadent word in the English language.

“And are you a merman?” I ask quietly, as I stretch to adjust a trio of silver and purple ornaments on a high branch.

“I do like water,” he says with a wink. “Let me help.”

He slides in closer to me, his freshly showered scent flooding my nose. A flush climbs over me while he finds just the right branch for the ornaments, whispering in that rough voice again, “Also, I’m not opposed to baths with mermaids.”

His eyes darken, shimmering with desire, the way they do when he sings with me. The way that’s dangerous. I swear, I can feel a full-body tremble coming on, like a Mack truck barreling down the highway.

But it’s best to avoid gasping, sighing, or panting in front of the whole crew, so I square my shoulders like I can fight off the desire that’s picking up speed as the flush spreads down my chest.

My hormones are saved from a public show when the opening notes of “Frosty the Snowman” fill the room.

“I love Frosty,” Ben shouts.

God, me too, since Frosty is taking my focus off my out-of-control libido.

Campbell dives into the first few lines, singing about two eyes made out of coal. Soon his golden tones are twined with those of his brothers, telling a tale of a snowman that comes to life.

The look on Miller’s face is pure joy, and I’m keenly aware he can’t ever resist the chance to knock out tunes with his former bandmates. His favorite bandmates.

My heart hurts a little, knowing he’ll always prefer them.

But I can’t compete in that department. I don’t have the equipment or the DNA, so there’s no point. I remind myself not to feel threatened by them, even mentally. Instead, I enjoy the special concert as the three former teen heartthrobs serenade their families with Christmas music.

When the tune ends, Mackenzie springs to her feet, clapping so loudly it must hurt her palms. “Encore! Encore!”

Miller looks to his brother, snaps his fingers, and says, “Do you recall . . .?”

And the trio rocks out to “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” as the rest of us chime in with the chorus. They slide into “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” next, and at the end of that song, Campbell walks over to the spacious leather couch, sets his hands onto Mackenzie’s shoulders, and sings the final lines to her.

My heart melts into a puddle from the love they share—it’s like it has its own life force. It fills the living room. They’re so madly in love it makes my chest ache.

It makes me want.

I have to look away, but when I do, I find Miller watching me, maybe even cataloging my reaction to Mackenzie and Campbell—the new lovers, the happy couple.

Our eyes connect, and the back of my neck grows hot. I need to resist him for so many reasons, but when he gazes at me like that, my resolve starts to burn off.

“How about Miller and Ally?” Mackenzie shouts, and I frown.

“How about Miller and Ally what?” I ask, a little defensively. Did she catch on to something?

“A song,” Mackenzie adds with a smile, and I breathe a sigh of relief.