didn’t. His eyes were light, and his smile friendly.
I couldn’t help but smile back, focusing all of my attention on him instead of the boy who stood slightly behind him, instead of meeting the eyes I could actually feel on me.
“I don’t think I’ve got any reality shows in my future,” I replied brightly, swallowing my unease and my sick excitement that came with Killian’s presence. “I’m happy to be in a garage with my guitar and my band.”
“Band?” a raspy voice repeated before Lucky could answer.
Killian stepped around him, right in front of me, right in my bubble. I didn’t have any choice but to look at him.
“I didn’t even know you could sing like that, Freckles,” he continued softly.
Lucky glanced at him and grinned even bigger.
I had told Killian about my love of music in our cafeteria conversations, but I didn’t tell him the extent of it, nor how I sang or played guitar. I always felt it would be kind of pretentious to tell people I was “good” at singing. It wasn’t something to boast about, to tell everyone about. It was me. A part of me just like my hands were a part of me. I didn’t exactly go around telling everyone I had hands.
I nervously glanced at him. “It’s new. Not the singing part, I’ve been doing that forever. The band part,” I babbled.
Lucky slapped Killian on the shoulder. “Well, I can’t wait to see this band. Anyone with a singer as pretty as you is bound for superstardom. Promise you’ll get me Gwen Stefani’s number when you hit the big time?” he asked seriously.
I couldn’t help but giggle. “I’ll do my best,” I replied solemnly.
He rubbed his hands together. “Excellent.”
Killian didn’t seem to find Lucky as amusing as I did. He was too busy churning my stomach with the intensity of his stare.
Okay, it was safe to say I hadn’t imagined it, whatever it was between us.
My stomach did a little flip at this realization.
“Sorry,” Mom apologized as she rushed back into the garage, her eyes on us. Or more aptly, Killian. She quickly moved her attention to Lucky. “They were hiding from me.” She handed two keys to him, the keys to the loaner car we had been driving since ours was getting repaired.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and reluctantly moved my attention from Killian. I had to. Mom had crazy spidey senses; she would spot the way I was looking at him.
“We need a key rack,” I informed her. Mom was forever losing our keys. I didn’t like to think how many parties, movies, and dinners we had been late to because Mom had inexplicably left the keys in the microwave or some equally obscure place.
I watched her eyes narrow at the space between Killian and me, or more accurately, the lack of it before she focused on me. “We do not need a key rack.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Where were said keys then?”
Her face lost a bit of its bravado. “They may have been in the freezer,” she muttered.
Lucky laughed at this. I was not surprised, so I only gave Mom a triumphant look.
She glared at me and turned to Lucky. “Thanks for everything. I assume your company will send an invoice?”
Now that her attention was diverted, I snuck a glance at Killian again. He was still staring at me. He stepped a hair closer and I held my breath.
“Tonight,” was all he rasped before Lucky’s voice broke the spell one word and one look had weaved.
“We’re off, Kill,” he declared, jerking his head to the car at the curb.
Killian’s gaze stayed on me for a split second longer. Then he lifted his chin in farewell to Mom, who was frowning at him.
Mom and I watched them go in silence.
“That anything I need to worry about?” Mom asked finally.
I jerked, escaping from the thoughts I had about whatever “tonight” meant, struggling against the butterflies for tonight.
“What?” I asked, feigning innocence.
She put a hand on her hip. “The mini hot guy who could teach college classes on smoldering looks,” she
I couldn’t help but smile back, focusing all of my attention on him instead of the boy who stood slightly behind him, instead of meeting the eyes I could actually feel on me.
“I don’t think I’ve got any reality shows in my future,” I replied brightly, swallowing my unease and my sick excitement that came with Killian’s presence. “I’m happy to be in a garage with my guitar and my band.”
“Band?” a raspy voice repeated before Lucky could answer.
Killian stepped around him, right in front of me, right in my bubble. I didn’t have any choice but to look at him.
“I didn’t even know you could sing like that, Freckles,” he continued softly.
Lucky glanced at him and grinned even bigger.
I had told Killian about my love of music in our cafeteria conversations, but I didn’t tell him the extent of it, nor how I sang or played guitar. I always felt it would be kind of pretentious to tell people I was “good” at singing. It wasn’t something to boast about, to tell everyone about. It was me. A part of me just like my hands were a part of me. I didn’t exactly go around telling everyone I had hands.
I nervously glanced at him. “It’s new. Not the singing part, I’ve been doing that forever. The band part,” I babbled.
Lucky slapped Killian on the shoulder. “Well, I can’t wait to see this band. Anyone with a singer as pretty as you is bound for superstardom. Promise you’ll get me Gwen Stefani’s number when you hit the big time?” he asked seriously.
I couldn’t help but giggle. “I’ll do my best,” I replied solemnly.
He rubbed his hands together. “Excellent.”
Killian didn’t seem to find Lucky as amusing as I did. He was too busy churning my stomach with the intensity of his stare.
Okay, it was safe to say I hadn’t imagined it, whatever it was between us.
My stomach did a little flip at this realization.
“Sorry,” Mom apologized as she rushed back into the garage, her eyes on us. Or more aptly, Killian. She quickly moved her attention to Lucky. “They were hiding from me.” She handed two keys to him, the keys to the loaner car we had been driving since ours was getting repaired.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and reluctantly moved my attention from Killian. I had to. Mom had crazy spidey senses; she would spot the way I was looking at him.
“We need a key rack,” I informed her. Mom was forever losing our keys. I didn’t like to think how many parties, movies, and dinners we had been late to because Mom had inexplicably left the keys in the microwave or some equally obscure place.
I watched her eyes narrow at the space between Killian and me, or more accurately, the lack of it before she focused on me. “We do not need a key rack.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Where were said keys then?”
Her face lost a bit of its bravado. “They may have been in the freezer,” she muttered.
Lucky laughed at this. I was not surprised, so I only gave Mom a triumphant look.
She glared at me and turned to Lucky. “Thanks for everything. I assume your company will send an invoice?”
Now that her attention was diverted, I snuck a glance at Killian again. He was still staring at me. He stepped a hair closer and I held my breath.
“Tonight,” was all he rasped before Lucky’s voice broke the spell one word and one look had weaved.
“We’re off, Kill,” he declared, jerking his head to the car at the curb.
Killian’s gaze stayed on me for a split second longer. Then he lifted his chin in farewell to Mom, who was frowning at him.
Mom and I watched them go in silence.
“That anything I need to worry about?” Mom asked finally.
I jerked, escaping from the thoughts I had about whatever “tonight” meant, struggling against the butterflies for tonight.
“What?” I asked, feigning innocence.
She put a hand on her hip. “The mini hot guy who could teach college classes on smoldering looks,” she
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