I brush a hand down his forearm. “Listen…Jake—” “We’re fine, Rach,” he says over me, the heat in his eyes dimming as he remembers where we are and who surrounds us on all sides. His hand drops away from me, and he leans forward, snatching his beer off the table. “He’s pretty good, isn’t he?” I take the beer he hands me, the tips of our fingers brushing. “He’s amazing.” “Yep.” He takes a sip of his beer. “The ladies always love the look of Cay at the mic.” “Well, he’s sexy as sin,” I reply, feigning an indifferent shrug. “And that voice is smooth like butter. It’s enough to make anyone feel a
...more
