“I’m not being ridiculous, I’m being serious,” she corrected.
“If I agree to listen to your ideas, you’llseriouslygo forth and tell the world how much you love my terrible album,” Juliet summarized, seeming both amused and possibly even concerned for Darcy’s sanity.
“Yes. Also, it’s not terrible.”
People might judge Darcy for lovingEchoes, that was true. But she hadn’t been lying, and she didn’t think she needed to hide something as inconsequential as her favorite album.
“I’m not agreeing to your ideas, for the record,” Juliet stipulated, firmly. “That’s not what this is. I’m literally only agreeing to hear you out.”
“Andto give me an actual open mind.”
Juliet’s lips curled into a small smile as her eyes narrowed slightly, and the look was almost… dangerous? Something about it made Darcy’s stomach dip low, especially when Juliet offered her hand. This time for a formal shake.
“Fine. Deal.”
Darcy eyed that offered hand, narrowing her own eyes back as she slid her palm against Juliet’s. “You have toreallybe open to my ideas, though.” She tightened her grasp, leaning in a little over the small table, because she’d noticed how Juliet seemed taken aback when Darcy entered her personal space. She liked when Juliet wasn’t perfectly on her game. “And Iwillbe able to tell,” she whispered.
Juliet’s lips parted slightly, audibly inhaling. But she didn’t lean back, didn’t put more space between them.
Instead, she angled her chin up, taking another inch of space from the air between them. “Okay, Darcy Kincaid. Time to get your notebook out and impress me.”
Chapter Ten
The mostterriblething,Juliet learned the following evening, was that Darcy did impress her.
It was the strongest feeling she was left with the following afternoon, as she listened – again – to the final version of “Porchlight.”
They’d spent two hours on Darcy’s balcony last night going over three different variations of “Porchlight” that they’d agreed to try out today in the studio.
She’d already known that Darcy was a talented singer. But now Juliet had to admit it: the way Darcy experienced music, the way she could put together arrangements, was really fucking amazing.
When she closed her eyes, though, listening to their duet… it gave her thatfeelinginside. The one that burned through her veins, settling in her core, smoldering there.
They’d broken up the verses and made some small – approved – changes to a few of the lyrics to frame the story of “Porchlight” into the points of view of both women, who were both being wronged by the same party. And it was good.
No, it was better than good.
They sounded… perfect. So very different from Shelby’s version, but not inferior. At least, not to her ear.
The way her own softer voice melded into Darcy’s throatier, more powerful tone at the end of the bridge – Juliet had fucking goosebumps.
She couldn’t stand it. And she was utterly enthralled by it.
Very much the way she felt about Darcy herself, as Robbie loved to point out.
“I think we really did something here,” Darcy’s voice came from just over her shoulder, startling her.
Juliet spun around, her heart beating faster, at Darcy’s reappearance from the bathroom. And, apparently, had decided to walk right up behind Juliet, so now they were only a few inches apart.
One of the only concessions Juliet hadn’t made was agreeing to share a booth with Darcy. They didn’t need to be so damn close to one another while they sang, she wassureabout that.
Darcy’s full lips were curved up in an infuriatingly attractive smug smile. “Admit it.”
“Admit that you should wear some sort of bell to warn me of your arrival?”
The smirk didn’t fade at all as Darcy goaded in a sing-song tone, “Come on, Juliet.”
The way they were standing, the lack of personal space between them, mirrored their stand-off in the booths yesterday, but without the anger. No, this time they were just… close.
