than a little dangerous.
“I want you to share the mic with me.” His lids lowering, he swept his gaze over me. “We should do a duet for this throwdown.”
“Huh-uh. You sing your song.” I pointed to where the mic was between my brother and Bryan, then flipped my hand around and pointed to myself. “And then I’ll sing mine right back here at my keyboard.”
“You’re not going to back out, are you?” War’s deep brown eyes narrowed as if he could read my thoughts.
“No.” Glancing past him, I frowned.
The crowd that had gathered for the show were mostly girls, older girls, ones he’d probably had sex with. The odds of my winning this singing contest and the accompanying bet weren’t good.
Determined, I lifted my chin. I might lose, but I wouldn’t give up before I’d even tried. “I don’t back down from any challenge.”
“Good. Respect that.” Something flashed in War’s eyes, making me feel like I’d passed a test. “But we’re still doing this my way. C’mon.”
Turning his back to me and affording me a distracting glimpse of his backside in his low-slung, well-fitting jeans, he crooked his ringed fingers over his wide shoulder. And for some reason, I stood without hesitating and followed him.
At the front of the garage, Dizzy stood on the right of the center mic, and Bryan stood on the left. His golden eyes shining excitedly like mine, Dizzy held his favorite acoustic, a secondhand Martin with a natural finish that was scarred to hell but played well. The analogy could be made to my brother and me, in that life had left its marks on us, but we weren’t damaged beyond repair.
Or at least I hoped we weren’t.
“Hey, Lace,” Bryan said, turning his gray-green gaze on me.
“Hey.” I lifted my chin in response after I recovered from the fact that he was back to acknowledging my existence again.
Bryan lovingly cradled an acoustic, a sweet used ebony Fender that was mine. My brother had given it to me. The diamond strap lay over his muscular shoulder, and it looked good there. Ditto on the body of the black instrument where it rested low in front of his narrow hips.
Oh, to be that guitar.
“Like old times, the three of us playing in front of an audience.” Bryan included Dizzy in a sweeping glance before looking back at me, his lips curled. “Only you without your feather boa.”
“And you without your top hat,” I said, teasing. “How can you possibly manage to play without it?”
“I manage just fine,” he said low, his voice inducing a shiver.
I knew he was no longer merely referencing his guitar-playing abilities, and further, I believed him. His hair in his eyes, the way he looked at me through his lashes, Bryan was the epitome of dark and sexy, in his casual but ready-to-play stance. His feet were planted apart on the concrete, his weight on his back foot. An accomplished guitarist now, I had no doubt. Head to boots, Bryan Jackson was totally swoon-worthy.
“What song needs two acoustics and no keyboards?” I asked, my voice tellingly rough as I turned to War.
“Nothing Compares 2 U.” His eyes heated as he stared back at me, his full lips curling up at the corners making me lightheaded.
“Unexpected,” I managed to say.
“Think you can handle it?” War ran his gaze over me. If his gaze were rubber tires, I’d have marks on me from the tread. His interest lingered again in the usual places for guys.
What wasn’t usual was the way I reacted to it. Warmth pooled between my legs. My nipples tingled. My heart raced.
“I can handle whatever you throw at me, Warren.” I stamped my hands on my hips.
“War,” he said, correcting me.
“We’ll see.”
“Yes, we most definitely will.” The curve of his lips deepened, carving arrogant grooves into his lean cheeks.
“Diz,” War called, turning from me to my brother. “You ready?”
“Ready,” Dizzy said.
“Bry?” War asked, shifting to look at his friend.
“Always ready to play, brother.”
“Thought so. Come here, Lacey.” War grabbed me, one of his arms sliding around my waist as both of mine fell to my sides in surrender. He might not be as muscular as Bryan, but there was no mistaking the unbreakable strength of his hold.
“Let go of me,” I said without enough volume to be believed. My protest was weak, maybe because I didn’t really want him to release me. I might not feel entirely safe in his embrace, but I felt something, for sure.
“Never,” he said quietly.
“What?” I asked,