“Nah. Too corny.”
“Okay,rude. What about ‘Senorita’?”
“Nuh-uh.” She shakes her head sharply. “I’m still bitter about their breakup.”
“How about you go stand over there and let me surprise you?”
“No way. You’ll pick something cheesy.”
“Gasp.” A laugh bubbles out of me. “I will not. C’mon, it’s my birthday.” I flip my bottom lip into a frown, determined not to let Millie be the dramatic one all the time.
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes playfully. “I have a feeling I’m gonna need another shot for whatever you have up your sleeve.”
After settling on a song I’m sure she’ll hate, I meet her at the bar and toss back a shot of tequila. Then I lead her onto the dance floor while we wait to be called up on stage.
When I pull her in tight and sway to the beat, she arches back, eyes wide. “Um, excuse me, sir. How did I not know you could dance?”
“You never asked.”
I’m certain a breathy “fuck” escapes her lip as she tucks in close so I can no longer see her face.
I grin into her hair. She smells soft and peachy, like theplumeria flowers on the island. I slip a hand to her lower back, relishing the warmth of her against my palm. At first, she tenses, but before I can pull away, she presses in closer to me, her hard nipples glued to my chest. Soon enough, she relaxes, and I get a flash of the uninhibited Millie I met in Greece. When I spin and dip her, causing her hair to whip me in my face, her smile is brighter than the disco ball above us.
The song ends, and the DJ comes through the speaker. “Next up, we have a pair of newlyweds. Mr. and Mrs. Greer, come on down.”
My heart stutters.Mr. and Mrs. Greer. Why do I like the sound of that?
Millie eyes me suspiciously as we take our places on stage, then forces her attention to the blank screen, bouncing on her toes in anticipation.
As “What Makes You Beautiful” by One Direction pops up, I prepare for impact.
I should know better, though; Millie’s a professional. And she’s the kind of woman who once dragged her brother to an improv class as an April Fools’ joke.
“I’ll take Harry’s solo parts,” I say, “and we’ll split the rest, yeah? And don’t forget…” I angle in close, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “We’re supposed to be newlyweds. Let’s give the crowd a show.”
Nodding, she brings her mic up in preparation.
I thought it was thrilling singingtoMillie, but singingwithher is one thousand times better. Being in such proximity to her talent does something to me I can’t quite put a finger on.
The woman is captivating and magical.
Despite the heat from the overhead lights, her stunning voice sends chills through me. If Idina Menzel and Pink had a baby, she’d sound like Millie.
I picked this song because every lyric rings true. She doesn’t know how beautiful she is. She’s completely oblivious to the way people stare everywhere she goes. This song is an excuse to tell her she doesn’t need to be so insecure.
Not with me.
As the music ends, the crowd goes wild. Who can blame them? We can fucking sing.
“Everyone’s watching.” I slide my hand to her nape, my fingers slick with her sweat.
Licking her bright red lips, she assesses me.
Fuck, I want to do indecent things to her. Stepping forward, I squeeze her neck, and without a second thought, I press my lips against hers.
When I pull away, her eyes widen in panic. “What was that for?”
“For the show.” I jut my chin toward the sea of people hollering and chanting.
