Ivy bounces up. “I get to pick the song!”

She runs off, and Gray shoots out of his seat. “No chance in hell, Ivy Mac. Mac!”

Fi rolls her eyes. “She’s going to go all Beyoncé-Jay Z on him.”

I laugh hard at the thought of them singing “Drunk in Love.” “I’m filming the whole thing.” I pull out my phone and get it ready.

They don’t sing “Drunk in Love.” It’s worse. Much, much worse. Or maybe equally horrific.

“Oh. My. God.” Fi’s eyes go wide before she bursts out laughing.

Gray and Ivy have decided on “You’re the One That I Want” from Grease. Oh, they own it, belting out the lyrics just slightly off-key—well, completely off-key in Gray’s case—and totally working the crowd, who are all shouting and lifting their phones to film them. It’s clear Gray has been recognized.

But still, it’s terrible.

Fi and I howl with laughter until my sides hurt and I have to gulp down half my bottled water.

“I can’t believe she knew she sucked at dancing,” Fi mutters watching them, a smile still pulling at her lips.

“Well, when you think about it, she’d have to be blind not to know,” I counter. “I mean, the arm flailing alone…” I shudder dramatically, and Fi snickers, just as I’d hoped.

“Watch it,” she says, her gaze on the stage and a smile in her eyes. “That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

“Hey, I love her like a sister too. Does that count?”

Fi turns, and her green eyes hold me captive. “As long as that doesn’t make us like brother and sister.”

I lean in until my lips nearly brush hers. “Not even close, Cherry.” I steal a quick, soft kiss and have the satisfaction of hearing her breath hitch.

My satisfaction grows when I pull back and she gazes up at me with a slightly dazed expression. I run the pad of my thumb over the smooth curve of her lower lip. My groin tightens with heat and want.

“You gonna give me an answer soon?”

Her lashes sweep down, and she reaches for her drink. “We’re out now, right?” Green eyes peer up at me. “This is a double date, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

Her lips purse like she’s trying not to smile. “Slick.”

“Not really.” I lean closer, pressing my arm against hers. “Look, I know I’m asking you to go out of your comfort zone—”

“Yes, how about that?” Fi counters. “I mean, do you often do the same? Because, from where I sit, you seem to play it safe.”

My brows lift. “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing safe about going after you.”

She smiles, shaking her head. “But you know I’m attracted to you.”

Love hearing that. I sit back and watch Gray get on his knees in a sad John Travolta parody. Running my hand over my beard, I turn back to Fi. “Okay. How about this? I hate being the center of attention. If I get up there and sing my ass off, will you give us a go?”

She laughs. “You’re serious? Are you bribing me for sex?”

“First off, I’m not talking about sex. I’ll never withhold that from you.” I grin, touching my forehead to hers. “We can go home right now and fuck, Cherry, if that’s what you want.”

Hell, tell me that’s what you want. I can take it. I’m a big boy. Part of me is growing bigger by the second at the thought of finally having Fiona.

She goes so pink, I can see it in the dim of the club.

“I’m asking for a relationship,” I say. “Or at least taking a leap of faith.”

Fi looks me over as if she’s trying to figure out if I’m crazy or not.

I let her look, sitting back, my hips low in the seat. Her slow inspection has my skin tingling. I have the mad urge to haul her on my lap and kiss her into compliance, lose myself in that sweet, plump mouth of hers. But I stay still.

“You’re really going to go up there?” She nods toward the stage where Ivy and Gray are now bowing—the hams.

“And sing my ass off,” I add. My gut rolls at the idea of performing in front of all these people. It’s not something I want to do. But I will.

I ignore the small twinge of guilt that follows when she gives me an evil grin. I know she’s looking forward to seeing me make an ass of myself, just as we laughed at Ivy and Gray.

“Before you answer,” I say above the applause that follows our friends’ performance, “I’ll warn you now. I will never lie to you, Fiona. But I don’t intend to fight fair either.”

Her cheeky grin just grows. “Playing me again, are you, Slick?”

“Maybe.”

She cups the back of my neck and gives me a quick, hard kiss. “Bring it, Dexter.”

Chapter Twelve

Fiona

Ho-boy, I’m in trouble with this man. He gives me a quick, impish grin as he rises from his seat, that big, bold body flexing and stretching beneath his worn jeans and tight gray t-shirt. He’s completely unaware of how sexy he is, which only makes him hotter.

But he isn’t stupid. He knows his boldness is irresistible to me. His fist raps once against the table top. “Game on, Cherry.”

Gray and Ivy are sauntering back, their faces aglow with sweat and happiness. “We were fucking awesome,” Gray announces just as Dex walks off.

My attention is on Dex’s taut ass. I kind of want to follow him and smack it. Seriously, his ass is a work of art. I’m pretty sure if I ever see it bare I’ll spontaneously combust.

Heat rises up my thighs. I want to see it bare. I want him. Badly enough to risk a reckless, long distance relationship?

Gray finally notices Dex by the stage. “No fucking way!” He glances at me, his eyes wide. “He’s not, is he?”

My cheeks hurt from the stretch of my smile. “He is.”

Ivy plops down next to me and takes a long drink of her beer. “Someone should check outside and see if pigs are flying.”

Gray is still wide-eyed and gaping as he sits next to her. “No shit. What gives, Fi-Fi?”

“Why are you looking at me?” I blink with all the innocence I can muster.

“It has to be about you when it comes to Dex.”

I’m not going to acknowledge how that sentiment warms me. Instead I watch Dex make his selection and say a few words to the karaoke operator. A flutter of nerves goes through my middle. He looks relaxed enough, but his shoulders are definitely tight.

Shit. I made him go up there.

Well, not made. It was his idea.

To impress you.

Color me impressed. He has more guts than I do. No way would I sing in public. Cats fighting under a full moon sound better than me.

I shift in my seat, leaning forward, then plopping back, as Gray pulls out his phone and gets ready to film, all the while going on about hell freezing over and Dex leaping into the deep end of the crazy pool.

Maybe I should put a stop to this?

Dex takes the mic and slowly walks up the stairs to the stage.

There’s a ripple running through the audience. They’ve recognized him too.

Shit on a popsicle stick. He’s going to hate this.

My fists clench as he takes center stage, his head bent, his hand clutching the mic tight.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I’m halfway out of my chair to stop him when the music starts. I recognize the opening notes. He’s picked “Gold on the Ceiling” by The Black Keys.

“Bold choice,” Gray mutters.

My heart is pounding so hard, I can barely breathe.

Then Dex starts to sing. And I swear my jaw hits the table.

Gray’s and Ivy’s do too.

“Holy shit,” Gray says before he leaps to his feet, his fists punching in the air with a loud whoop. “Dex!” He shouts, jumping up and down as the music thrums.

Because Ethan Dexter is bringing the house down, singing the song like he fucking owns it.

His deep, raw voice rolls over me, and my nipples go so tight they hurt. I get on top of my chair and holler my approval, dancing along to the music, singing the refrain with the rest of the crowd.