Page 40 of Arranged To Be Mine

“That’s surprisingly sincere.”

“I have my moments. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe.”

He wasn’t what I’d expected. Wasn’t the shallow, self-absorbed pretty boy I’d assumed he was. There were layers here. Depth. The kind of person who actually listened when you talked and didn’t just wait for their turn to speak.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “For listening. For not judging.”

“That’s what fake boyfriends are for.”

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Part of my charm.”

I finished my beer and set it down, feeling pleasantly fuzzy around the edges. The tension finally loosened its grip. I could breathe again. I could think about something other than damage control and proving myself to a world that seemed determined to see me fail.

“Okay,” I said, the word coming out before I could stop it.

Beau looked at me, confused. “Okay what?”

“The karaoke thing.” I stood up. “What songs do you have on that machine?”

His face lit up like I’d just told him Christmas came early. “Are you serious?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

He was on his feet in an instant, grabbing our empty bottles and heading for the stairs. “Come on before you sober up and remember you have dignity.”

“I have plenty of dignity,” I protested, following him down to the living room.

The karaoke machine was already set up, just like he’d said. A modest setup with two microphones and a screen that displayed song lyrics. He started scrolling through the options, calling out titles.

“We’ve got everything. Classic rock, pop, country if you’re feeling brave, some Disney stuff if you’re into that princess thing.”

“No Disney.”

“Fair enough. Oh, what about this?” He stopped scrolling, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “How do you feel about eighties hairbands?”

“Hello, I am my father’s daughter. Grew up on the stuff.”

He started naming off songs.

“That one,” I said. “Livin’ on a Prayer. Bon Jovi. It’s a classic.”

I grabbed the microphone from his hand. This was insane. I was about to sing karaoke in front of a man I barely knew.

“If you record this, I will end you,” I threatened.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He pressed play. The opening guitar filled the room. I knew the song by heart but singing in my car was a lot different than actually singing along with Jon Bon Jovi.

The lyrics appeared on screen. I opened my mouth and started to sing.

It was bad. I was off-key from the first note, my voice cracking on the high parts, and I was slightly behind the music. I stopped caring about how I sounded. Stopped worrying about what Beau thought. I just sang like I was in the shower.

“Whoooa, we’re halfway there! Whoooa, livin’ on a prayer!”