Steal(Seaside Pictures Book 3)(44)

Hair stood on the back of my arms as someone sat behind me and said, “You guys forgot the last verse.”

“It’s yours,” I croaked heart racing.

And for the first time since we’d broken up, I heard perfection, also known as Will Sutherland’s voice, the Sutherland Sunset, the voice that had once set a million teenage hearts on fire.

“I’ll let you go, if I can go too, I’ll let you fly if I can carry you.” I shuddered as his voice wrapped around me, as Zane harmonized with him. “I always wanted the fire in your eyes, promise me it will never die, forever you said, forever we stay, forever will always lead the way.”

The guys ended with the chorus.

And a stunned silence fell over the group.

“That’s it.” Zane tilted his head. “The theme song to the movie, why not?”

Will went immobile behind me, I was afraid he wasn’t even breathing. “I don’t know if Jay’s going to want to go for that.”

“He said yes.” Linc grinned. “I just sent him the video. Oh, and Will, he says if you ever threaten to kick his ass again he’s going to knock your pretty—”

“—my pretty capped teeth out. Yeah, got it” Will finished with a rasp. “And I don’t have capped teeth.”

“It would be okay if you do.” Demetri patted him on the arm. “I mean I’m not even sure Alec has a real penis at this point.”

Alec didn’t even flinch just said, “At least mine works.”

Demetri burst out laughing, but I was frozen in place. Will was almost behind me, I wasn’t exactly sitting between his legs, but it was close.

I tried not to feel so awkward, but I could barely move, barely breathe.

And then the awkwardness got worse when every guy straightened as Jay walked up to the group and announced that our break was over since the rain had stopped, and he wanted me and Will to do our scene.

I was okay with a scene.

But I wasn’t okay with the fact that he thrust a script in my face as well as Will’s and said, “I think you’ll be happy with the re-write. After all, you’re professionals, right, Will?”





I WAS SURROUNDED by clothes, costumes, makeup, and basically another version of Hell and yet I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face.

She’d always had a beautiful voice, angelic, and it always pissed me off that she never shared it with the world, that acting was more important when she could have made a killing on Broadway. The only song she ever agreed to sing was Lighthouse the one song that when I recorded it for my own solo release…

She had been too busy getting high to lay down the tracks.

It had become a thing.

The tardiness.

Losing weight.

Losing interest.

Losing the light behind her eyes.

And I hated that she refused help as if nothing was wrong with what she was doing.

And I still didn’t know why.

I knew there was pain there, I knew there was misery, but why self-destruct? Why not let the people you love help you?

I shook away the morose thoughts as I put on a way-too-tight white T-shirt that should be illegal in most states, right along with skinny jeans and boots.

I looked like I had just gone into Demetri Daniels’ closet and then just for grins stolen Zane’s shoes.

God, I was too old for these kinds of clothes.

Couldn’t they at least get me relaxed jeans?

Ones that didn’t show off an erection if my zipper hit me just right?

I scowled as Gem, the makeup artist, styled my hair, and nearly had an actual heart attack when she grabbed gel and mussed it up so much that I looked like a teenager all over again.

I narrowed my eyes at her in the mirror. “That’s not how I style my hair anymore.”

“Well…” She grinned innocently. “This is the direction Mr. Jaymeson would like to go.”

“Direction?” I repeated. “I look seventeen.”

She snorted. “Aw honey, you’re too muscular to look seventeen, but I’d say you could pass for twenty-three.” A knowing wink.

I crossed my arms and damn near ripped my T-shirt in half.

“You must lift.”

I gritted my teeth. “You done yet?”

“I never imagined that the great Will Sutherland would be more difficult to work with than Angelica Greene, and yet…” She trailed off meeting my gaze in the mirror with a pointed look that had me ready to hide behind something.

And I stopped sulking. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to all of this—” I waved my hand in the air.

“You mean attention? Oh honey you’ve had attention since the day you opened that mouth of yours and let the world hear you sing, did you think that styling your hair different, wearing other trends, and glasses would make you Clark Kent?” She chuckled again. “Men.”