Once Upon a Sure Thing (Heartbreakers #2)(16)

Except I didn’t realize we were that close when we sang.

Ally’s inches away from me, and the look on her face is seductive and sensual. Why the hell did I pick that tune to sing today? What was I thinking choosing a sexy song of desire?

I tug at my collar, my temperature ticking up a few degrees as I watch the small screen, wishing my brothers and Jackson were gone, wishing I was alone to enjoy this.

I mean, study this.

I want to study this video.

Understand it.

Because it’s like watching a foreign film without subtitles. I don’t know what’s going on, so I have to rely on the actions, and the actions make one thing clear—we’re setting the studio on fire. We’re giving off fumes of lust.

I blink, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing.

It must be the song. Must be that it’s a great sexy duet, and we were both getting into the meaning and the lyrics.

That’s the way it should be.

Jackson touches the screen with a satisfied flourish, an expectant look in his dark eyes. “What do you think? This might be a crazy idea, but as soon as you two started singing, I knew I was witnessing something I could use for my scholarship application.”

I crease my brow. “What? How?”

“My submission for the media scholarship.”

Awareness slams into me like a truck. He’s mentioned needing to submit a short documentary for the scholarship he’s applying for.

“This would be your submission? Hashtag ZimmerHart?”

“You don’t have to keep that name.”

“But it’s a fun one,” Miles jumps in. “Also, you’d be helping your little brother, and I don’t mean me, because I’m beyond help.”

I laugh at Miles’s goofball side. “True. You’re a lost cause,” I say, smacking his shoulder.

Jackson looks at me, all puppy dog eyes. “If you don’t want me to shoot it, that’s cool, but I stitched this together hoping it would convince you. I was looking at the requirements for the scholarship, and the main thing is to submit your own documentary. I thought this would be an awesome thing to show a behind-the-scenes look into how your duo comes together.”

Campbell meets my gaze, tilting his forehead toward Jackson. “That’s a smart idea for a scholarship app, Miller.”

I heave a sigh. “Let’s be honest here. What are the chances this is going to work out with Ally? I’m not close with anyone I’ve played with except you two dweebs, and you have to like me.”

Campbell crinkles his nose. “Wait. You think we like you?”

“Fuck off,” I say.

Miles raises his eyebrows. “Don’t swear in front of your little bro.”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “Guys.”

Miles taps his chest. “Hey, I meant me.”

Campbell rises from his chair and plants a hand on my shoulder. “It’s up to you, Miller. But I thought you were always the most optimistic. And now you’re worried it won’t work out if you sing with Ally when you haven’t even started? You and Ally are tight, and I can’t see anything splitting you up. Maybe do it temporarily?”

Miles snaps his fingers. “Try it for a month. Jam together, write some songs, make some videos. Do it DIY-style. Post them online. Let Jackson film it and see how it goes.” Miles claps his hands together like a coach. “And let’s get this dude the scholarship he deserves.”

The scales weigh heavily on one side. Jackson needs a scholarship. Ally needs a little extra money. I need . . . someone to sing with.

That someone isn’t going to be either of the guys I share blood with, so maybe they’re right. Maybe it needs to be Ally-turned-Honey.

Maybe a set time frame will keep this from exploding. As I noodle on the idea of a temporary arrangement, my heart rate slows to normal. Short-term is my middle name.

I mean, I’m excellent at striking temporary deals to sing with my best friend.

Miles smacks my knee. “Just talk to Ally. See if that would work for her.”

But the thing is, I don’t think I have to talk to Ally. She’s pretty much all in, and this is entirely up to me.

I just need to make sure I don’t fuck it up.

Taking a breath, I begin to formulate a plan.





Chapter 11





Ally



“The clock ticked ever closer to the day of reckoning, and she promised she’d be ready to reclaim her empire and to pounce on the enemy for daring to challenge her birthright.”

I take a breath and finish my work for the day on the Kiersten White–style historical epic, with a heroine so badass she doesn’t have a moment to wallow in dreams not coming true. Not when heads are rolling in the courts of yesteryear.

After I leave the in-house production studio, I find the audio manager waiting for me in a hallway lined with framed movie-poster-size images of the publishing house’s most popular titles. A gleam of pride flickers inside me—I narrated three of those ten. The last one is adjacent to a framed image of a new TV show the house’s sister network launched last year, with the rest of the TV pictures extending down the wall.

Angie waggles her fingers at me. “I heard a little bit of your work today. The battle scene was chilling.” She shudders as if recalling the multiple impalements suffered on the battlefield, Game of Thrones–style. Her blue eyes are big and sparkly behind her rhinestone-studded glasses.