At some point, as we made our way through the park and for no reason at all, Braxton slipped her hand in mine. I wasn’t sure if she planned it or was just caught up in the moment, but I didn’t let go. If she noticed my tension, she didn’t comment on it. She was thoroughly enthralled by the guide’s boring facts about fucking flamingos. I glanced at Houston, who was currently hiding behind his black shades. I could tell by the set of his lips that he’d noticed, and he wasn’t thrilled. Braxton wasn’t only defying orders. She was risking it getting out that we were making more than just music
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