1

Cash

Then…

There’s nothing quite like a concert full of screaming tween girls to make a grown man question the choices that led him there. And to make matters worse, I’m a full head and shoulders taller than anyone within a ten-foot radius. The term sticking out like a sore thumb doesn’t even come close to how ridiculous I must look right now.

If it wasn’t for the dark-haired, freckled-faced kid at my side who’s beaming at me like I hung the moon just for her, I’d have bailed an hour ago.

“Isn’t this so fun?!” Elyse yells loud enough to be heard over the techno music pumping through the speakers surrounding the stage, her braces gleaming under the neon lights.

“Sure.” I all but growl my response as I cross my arms and glare over Elyse’s head at my sister.

Jules just laughs and wraps an arm around her daughter. “Uncle Cash did a good job for your birthday, didn’t he?”

“So good!” Elyse goes back to screaming like she just won a million dollars. A mom turns our way with a disapproving frown. I suppress a grimace.

Despite how badly I want to disappear right now, I wouldn’t trade the opportunity to see my niece’s face light up like this for anything. Especially after the year she and Jules have had.

My brother-in-law was a stellar dad and husband who spent countless weekends doing embarrassing, girly things with the two of them. I could never replace John, nor would I want to, but at least I can do something . Paying for this concert and backstage passes feels like a paltry offering in light of them losing John.

As if Jules can sense where my thoughts have run, she reaches behind Elyse and gives my bicep a squeeze.

I meet her misty eyes with a slight dip of my chin. Her expression tells me she knows—knows how much I love her, how sorry I am for all they’ve had to go through, and that I’d do anything within my power to make it better for them.

I break the connection first, facing the teenybopper band on the stage. Jules lets her hand drop, and I swear I hear her snicker over the din. I’m not a lovey dovey, sensitive type of guy who uses words to express himself and she knows it. Thankfully, she rarely calls me out on it, instead letting me do things for her and Elyse as a way to show that I care. She’s pretty great like that.

Elyse screams something unintelligible at the gyrating guys on stage, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. There’s just something incredibly grating about four twenty-something guys singing the same lyrics over and over while an entire pavilion full of tween girls scream their names. By far, the best part of the performance has been the talented backup dancers. Their routines are clearly well choreographed, and their skills are obviously above this band’s pay grade. It’s too bad the backstage passes I bought don’t include meeting them instead. Can’t say I’d mind getting one of their numbers.

A tween on the other side of me elbows me in the hip, and I resist the urge to growl a complaint. Ah, well. This night will be over soon. I can continue to be a doting uncle for a couple more hours while Elyse has the time of her life.

***

Britta

“That was exhausting,” Kelly sighs, dropping into the cushy red velvet seat in our shared dressing room. “I’m starting to think you’re onto something with this whole retirement thing.”

Standing beside me at the counter, removing her makeup with a face wipe, Faith huffs. “For real. I’m only twenty-two, but my feet are always screaming by the end of the night.”

I smile at her reflection as I start to pull the pins from my hair. The updo Tina from hair and makeup gave me tonight was so tight it felt like a gazillion little hair pins jabbed me in the skull each time I moved. “I just feel like I’m pushing it at thirty, ya know?” My smile falters a bit at the half-truth.

It is true that my body isn’t as resilient as it used to be. Especially after a night like tonight. Some of those moves were challenging, even with years of training under my belt. And yeah, I may have to pop a few pain meds tomorrow when the soreness in my muscles refuses to be ignored. I still dance as well as I always have—maybe even better. Time and experience have only served to hone my skills as a backup dancer.

Yet I am retiring.

The real reason has less to do with my abilities and more to do with the fact that my body doesn’t look the same as it used to. My agent, Shane, essentially gave me an ultimatum: continue to face rejections due to my size or consider retirement on my own terms. It’s no secret that it’s been harder and harder for me to land gigs in the last year. Shane not-so-subtly told me that I only got this job because one of their first-choice dancers backed out at the last minute.

But Kelly and Faith don’t need to know that.

They think I’m a woman who’s choosing to follow her new dream of starting her own interior design firm. After tonight, I’ll officially be self-employed. The reality of that scares the living daylights out of me, but it is what it is.

“At least I’ll never age out of a career in interior design,” I say, not brave enough to add, or gain too much weight .

“Bruce doesn’t care that you're thirty,” Kelly says with a suggestive tilt to her blonde eyebrows.

I breathe a laugh and tug on the last hair pin, letting my dark hair tumble to my shoulders. The neon pink and glitter-streaked extensions running through it will take too much time to remove, so I’ll leave them in until tomorrow. I pull my hair into a quick messy bun and remove the bright lipstick, replacing it with some shiny gloss, but leave the heavy smoked-out eye makeup.

“So, where’s the hot bodyguard taking you?” Faith asks, starting on her own pins.

I stuff all the loose hair pins into my makeup bag with a shrug. “He didn’t say. Just told me to meet him at my car when I got done changing. He finished early, so he’s probably already waiting for me.”

“You’d better hurry, Britt. Don’t keep that fine man waiting.” Kelly swats me on the butt with her sweater.

I laugh her off and pick up my bag, then sling it over my shoulder. “I’m really gonna miss you guys.”

The women I’ve come to call friends on this tour wrap me in a hug. “Hey, you can’t get rid of us that easy,” Faith says, giving me a squeeze. “We’re still going to hang out. But now we won’t have to wear super uncomfortable costumes and painfully high heels when we do it.”

We all share a laugh as we step back from the group hug. “Thanks, guys. I’ll text you next weekend, okay?”

Both Faith and Kelly wave me out the door with well wishes, promising that we’ll keep in touch. Tears threaten to unleash, but I manage to keep them at bay as I walk out of the dressing room and down the hall. I’m doing my best to get excited about taking this next step in my life, but leaving behind the thing that I’ve loved for so long—the thing I went to school for, worked grueling hours for, and even prayed for—isn’t easy. My entire life up until now has been consumed with my dancing career.

Will I still be me without it?

Sure, I’ll still be putting my creative skills to good use, but not even that has the same allure dancing had for me. In a way, tonight feels like the death of my lifelong dream. Again, tears sting my eyes, but I force them away. I can’t very well go out and celebrate with Bruce if I’ve got mascara running down my face.

When I round the corner and spot him waiting at the backstage elevators with his back to me, my heartbeat picks up its pace. We’ve only been on six dates, so things are still new and exciting. I have no doubt he caught on to the massive crush I had on him throughout the entire tour since subtlety has never been a skill I possessed, but it wasn’t until a month ago that he finally asked me out. I guess if my dance career had to end this way, I can at least feel good about nabbing a muscled hottie like Bruce on my way out. Resisting the urge to call to him, I decide to surprise him.

I sneak on silent feet until I’m right at his back, then reach up on my tiptoes and place my hands over his eyes. “Guess who?”

The second the words leave my lips, I realize two things. First, the man whose face my hands are covering has a beard. Bruce does not. Second, I’m pretty sure this guy has an inch or two on Bruce, and he most certainly smells different than Bruce does after a long night of working security.

“Umm,” the man says, his low, rumbling voice ricocheting through my hands—the ones still covering his eyes. “No idea.”

My eyes widen and I freeze . Definitely not Bruce .

Why is this guy not pulling away from me? Why isn’t he shoving me off him like I’m the deranged woman I am? Instead, he’s just standing here, totally still, while I touch and press against him like we’re well acquainted. I have no idea what to do, nor how I mistook him for Bruce—my actual boyfriend.

I swallow my mortification and slowly ease my hands away from his face. “Um,” I say at the man’s back, “I am so incredibly sorry for touching you. I thought you were someone else.”

Like he doesn’t have a care in the world, the man shifts to face me with one pierced eyebrow raised. “Who’d you think I was?”

I blink at one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen as I try to formulate a response. “Uh, Bruce.” I swallow. “I mean, my boyfriend Bruce.” Now that I see him from the front, this guy doesn’t really look like Bruce at all. Yeah, they have the same broad build and nearly identical man buns, but where Bruce’s jaw is silky smooth, this guy’s is full of coarse, neatly trimmed hair. His deep brown eyes are a stark contrast to Bruce’s light blue, and apparently, this guy’s got a thing for metal because his nose and ears are pierced as well.

“Boyfriend?” The guy’s dark gaze flits over me for less than a second, just long enough to sense the barest hint of his attraction.

“Yeah,” I say, stepping back from the strange man I was just fondling. Okay, maybe not fondling , but there was still too much touching between strangers. “He works in security.”

The man gives me the slowest nod in existence as the elevator dings. When the doors open, I see my chance at escape and begin to back away.

“Aren’t you going down?” His bold gaze holds mine without a hint of hesitation.

“Uh, well,” I sputter. “N-no. I mean, I was, but—”

“After you, then.” He holds one arm against the side of the elevator, keeping the doors open for me.

“Oh.” I laugh, way too loud and obnoxious. “I can just take the stairs. I don’t want to impose. You’re just so—” I bite my lip and clutch the strap of my bag so tight it feels like the fabric could fray under the pressure. What was I even going to say? He’s so…what?

The guy’s lips twitch into the workings of a smile, and once again, that pierced eyebrow of his lifts. “I’m not sure what or who you think I am, but I can assure you that you’re not imposing. This is a public elevator, is it not?” He raises his gaze to the walls around it like maybe he missed a sign somewhere.

“Yeah, no. I-it is.”

Meeting my eyes, he jerks his chin toward the inside of the elevator. “Well, come on. I don’t bite. Or touch people I don’t know.” A smirk laced with humor tugs at his mouth.

I lick my lips, deciding to swallow my embarrassment. The sooner I get down to my car, the sooner I’ll be with Bruce and can forget all about my stupid screw up. My eyes then fall to the jacket in his other hand. It’s leather and small, like a woman’s. That small fact makes him a smidge more trustworthy than before, but still, I say, “I have mace in my bag. Just so you know.”

He holds his hands up and backs into a corner of the elevator, that smile never leaving his bearded face. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, promise.” Crossing his arms, he leans back, appearing completely at ease.

Giving him one last perusal, I step into the elevator and plant myself in the opposite corner.

As soon as it jerks to life, he says. “If it makes you feel any better, I was just here with my sister and niece. My sister left her jacket backstage and…” He holds up the leather jacket like it’s obvious he’s not some serial killer.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

He waves me off. “Don’t be sorry. Women need to be careful. Which is why I insisted on coming back to get my sister’s jacket for her.”

Some of my earlier panic mixed with embarrassment eases, and I smile. “That’s nice of you. And I don’t usually walk out alone, but I knew Bruce was waiting for me, so when I saw you, I just thought—”

“That I was him?”

“Yeah. From the back, you look just like him. Right down to the black jacket and hairstyle.”

He seems to think this over for a few seconds, then breaks the silence again. “Would you mind if I walked you to meet your boyfriend? It would make me feel better than leaving you alone in a dark parking lot this late at night.”

“That’s sweet of you, but it’s not necessary. I can take care of myself.”

His lips purse as if he’s fighting back a smile. “I have no doubt. Just thought I’d offer.”

Silence settles over us before the elevator dings again and the doors creak open. Like before, he gestures for me to go first. I mutter a thanks as I head out of the building toward the parking lot. Outside, the cool night air nips at my face and I tug my duster closed.

“You sure that guy is waiting out here for you?”

I stop and turn to see him eyeing me like he’s still not quite sure he should leave me to my own devices. I appreciate his concern, I really do. But it’s not necessary. Besides, he could be a potential threat to my safety, though my gut says he’s innocent.

“Yes, I’m sure. In fact,” I say, turning back toward the parking lot, “he’s probably already—”

The words stick in my throat as two figures in a parked car a couple rows up catch my attention. Bruce is in the passenger seat, and some woman…No. Wait . That’s… “Is that Tina from hair and makeup?!”

My observation comes tumbling out of me like an accusation. But of course it does. Because WHY is MY boyfriend sitting in a parked car with TINA FROM HAIR AND MAKEUP? And why does he have his hand on her face, leaning toward her like he’s about to kiss her?

He hasn’t even kissed me yet! Well, aside from the peck he bussed on my cheek after our last date. But he’s never put his hand on my face with the intent to… And there they go. Full-on making out in her car , right in front of me . I slap a hand over my eyes and stumble back, right into the chest of the man whose face I assaulted earlier.

“Whoa there. You okay?”

“No,” I squeak. “I am not okay. I just…I just saw…” I gulp in too much air, then wheeze like an idiot. “I think I just saw my boyfriend…kissing…” And now I’m hyperventilating.

My friendly chaperone pats my back like that’ll help. It won’t. I’m well and truly hurt by what I just witnessed. With my hands on my knees, I work to catch my breath and organize my thoughts.

Why would Bruce kiss another woman while we’re dating? Does he not realize we’re exclusive? Maybe I didn’t make it clear that he’s the only person I’m seeing. Did I miss something in the way he’s been treating me? I might’ve. I mean, I’ve been known to misconstrue situations before. There has to be some viable explanation for him making a move on someone else, something that doesn’t equal him being a careless womanizer. My boyfriend-material barometer can’t be that far off, can it?

Vaguely, I register the sound of a car door shutting and footsteps coming toward us.

“Babe?” Bruce’s voice is hard, wary. “Are you okay?”

I straighten and my companion’s hand falls from my back. Yet the heat from his body never leaves, almost as if he’s hovering close, just in case.

“Hey,” I say, breathless. “What, uh, what are you doing?” What should be a simple question comes out like a very pointed accusation. And Bruce must sense it because his whole body tenses.

“I’ve just been waiting for you,” he hedges, eyes darting between me and the guy next to me. “Like I said I would.” His slow smile immediately makes my stomach roll. “Ready to head out on our date?”

Gritting my teeth, I square my shoulders and prepare to tell Bruce he can forget about our date after he sucked Tina’s face off less than five minutes ago. But the moment I open my mouth to speak, the man behind me steps in.