Page 34 of One More Made Up Love Song (Midnight Rush #2)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ivy

At least one good thing about the Voltage party is that with more than half their artist roster in attendance, the room is so full of famous people that Freddie doesn’t really stand out.

After stopping on our way in for photographs, Freddie makes the rounds, shaking hands and networking with the label’s executives, meeting the teenage daughter of one investor and the daughter-in-law of another.

Since this is the first album he’s done with the label, the faces are all mostly new to me, people whose names I’ve heard and seen copied in emails but I’ve never actually met in person.

Freddie makes a point of introducing me by name to every single executive, talking me up, mentioning the many ways in which I keep his career running smoothly.

Eventually, we run into the artist relations manager who’s been working with Freddie, a woman named Danica Smith.

She’s someone I have met in person, when Freddie first signed his contract, but we haven’t had much interaction since then.

With Danica, Freddie lays it on thick, even going so far as to mention my music business degree from Belmont. Danica ends up offering me her card and tells me she’s always looking to expand her team if I’d ever be interested in working for Voltage Records.

“See?” Freddie says as I tuck her card into my clutch. “Easy as that.”

“Easy when I have you talking me up,” I say. “You’re a very convincing salesman.”

“You’re the one who makes it easy,” he says. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

My heart squeezes, and I second-guess—for about the billionth time—my decision to work somewhere else. When Freddie looks at me like he is now, I don’t want to be anywhere but right here. Right beside him. Even if he never loves me back.

Okay, fine. That last part is probably just my hormones talking. But gah, the man is not making it easy to keep my head on straight.

After Freddie and I have talked and smiled and posed for at least two dozen photographs, we finally sync up with Leo, Jace, Adam, and Laney. We find a couple of couches arranged around a low coffee table near the back of the event space and mostly keep to ourselves.

Freddie lifts his arm and puts it around my shoulders, pulling me close enough for him to ask, “Do you think Jace has a new girlfriend?”

I ignore the goosebumps triggered by his touch and force my attention across the small space to Jace, who is typing out a text. “I doubt it,” I say. “I bet he’s just texting his mom about his kids.”

“Nah,” Freddie says. “With that level of focus?”

I shoot him a look. “Have you seen the way he dotes on those kids?” I put a hand on Freddie’s knee and use it to push myself up, then move around the coffee table and sit down next to Jace.

“Are the kids okay?” I ask.

Jace looks over, expression sheepish as he pockets his phone. “They are. Mom says your sister is hanging out with them and just made everyone homemade hot chocolate. Now she’s watching a movie with Annie while my mom gets Eli to bed.”

“Hot chocolate is one of our mother’s specialties,” I say. “And I’m sure Carina is happy to be spending time with Annie.”

He nods. “I’m sure Mom appreciates the help.”

I glance back at Freddie, giving him a look that says I was absolutely right, and he smiles and shakes his head. But then Sloane shows up, pulling him into a conversation, so I sit back, content to talk to Jace as long as Freddie is occupied.

“Freddie thought you might have a girlfriend,” I say, and Jace chuckles.

“Nooo, absolutely not. I’m nowhere near ready for that.”

“Do your kids always travel with you?” I ask.

“This is the first time I’ve gone anywhere since Eli was born. Mom would have just stayed with them. But Annie has had such a hard time since her mom left. She doesn’t do well when we’re apart—even for a couple of nights. So they go where I go, at least for now.”

“You’re a good dad, Jace.”

He runs a hand through his wavy blond hair. “I don’t know about that,” he says, vulnerability flashing in his blue eyes. “But thank you anyway.” He looks up, and his gaze narrows. “Hey, who do you think Leo is staring at?”

I look to the couch opposite us to see Leo staring across the room, brow furrowed. I follow his gaze to a cluster of women standing near the entrance and let out a little gasp. “Is that Dolly Parton?”

“Hey,” Jace says, calling to Leo. “Respect the legend, man. Stop staring at Dolly.”

Leo gives his head a little shake. “I’m not staring at her. I’m trying to figure out who’s standing beside her. Why do I feel like I know her? Is she an artist?”

I look back at the group of women. “The blond one?”

Leo nods.

“That’s Claire McKenzie,” I say. “She’s an actress.”

“An actress?” Without another word, Leo stands and strides across the room directly toward the woman.

“Wow,” Jace says. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him look so intense.”

“What did I miss?” Freddie asks, then he looks at me. “Sloane thinks we should dance. She says we have to stop hiding.”

“We think Leo has a crush,” Jace says, and Freddie turns and looks to where Leo is now hovering beside the group of women.

“Don’t we all?” Freddie says. “Dolly is amazing.”

“Not on Dolly,” I say. “On Claire McKenzie. The actress.”

“She was in a movie with Flint, wasn’t she?” Freddie asks. He holds out his hand. “What do you say? Dance with me?”

“We’ll dance too,” Laney says, standing and holding her hand out to Adam. “But not you, Jace. You’ll make the rest of us look bad. ”

We all laugh at Laney’s comment, but nobody disputes. Jace was the best dancer in Midnight Rush by far. He really would make the rest of the guys look bad.

He grins. “Your egos are safe. I’m going to step outside so I can say good night to Annie.”

Freddie and I follow Laney and Adam to the dance floor.

The music is louder and faster than I would like, and I’m not a particularly skilled dancer, but Freddie keeps his eyes on me, one hand resting gently on my hip, and I do my best to settle into the rhythm of the bass reverberating through my body.

Freddie pulls me closer, moving his mouth to my ear where he says, “You look really great tonight. Did I tell you that? I like your hair up.”

It took some convincing from the stylist Natasha brought along—I really like wearing my curls down—but I have to be grateful now. My hair would be a riotous mess were I dancing like this with it down.

It’s too loud and Freddie is too tall for me to just talk and trust that he’ll hear me, so I reach a hand up, looping it around the back of his neck and pulling him down so I can whisper back, “You aren’t so bad yourself.”

His green eyes dance as we continue to move, our bodies in sync, his smile wide, his focus wholly on me.

The party is packed with people, but the longer we dance, the more it starts to feel like Freddie and I are tuned into a frequency that’s only ours.

He guides my movements with gentle touches, pulling me close, then nudging me back again, eyes on me the whole time. I’ve never danced with Freddie, never had him look at me like this, and the effect is dizzying. I could do this all night. Stand here with him, stare at him all. night. long .

But then Freddie reaches up and tugs on his earlobe, and I’m jolted back into reality. This is what we talked about. The sign he would give me if he thought we should kiss. It’s a painful reminder that we aren’t just here to have fun.

We’re here to sell a story. And if he wants to kiss me, it must be because someone is watching.

My heart starts pounding.

I could shake my head no. Tell him I don’t want to, and I know he’d respect it.

But I do want to. That’s the trouble. I want it so much I don’t even care that every time I give in, I’m aiming an arrow at my future self. At the woman who’s going to have to get over being this close to something she wanted so badly when it was never truly hers to have.

I lean forward the slightest bit, tilting my head up so Freddie knows I’m game. We made a deal, and I’m willing if he is.

He lifts one hand to my jaw, sliding it back so his long fingers are wrapped around the back of my neck, then he tugs me forward and lowers his head.

His eyes are open, watching me, like he’s gauging my reaction as he brushes his nose against mine, then he pulls back and holds my gaze for a long moment.

He smiles the slightest bit, and I’m not sure what to make of it.

Is he acknowledging that we’re in on this together—like, ha-ha, look at how well we’re fooling everyone? Or is he just genuinely enjoying the moment?

I’m thinking too much, and the anticipation is practically killing me, so I take matters into my own hands and push up on my toes, finally pressing my lips against his.

The last time Freddie kissed me, I was so surprised, I didn’t have time to anticipate.

But now, I’m hyperaware, every sense tuned to every single place our bodies are touching.

The hand that wraps around my waist to the small of my back.

The heat of every single fingertip as it presses through the thin fabric of my dress.

My hands on his chest, the way I can feel his heart pounding through my palm.

The taste of him as his lips part and he deepens the kiss.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know we’re standing in a room full of people. That I’m kissing Freddie Ridgefield in a room full of people. But it doesn’t feel like it.

It feels like it’s just us. Like he’s the only person in the world who matters.

He has to feel this too. The electricity. The fire coursing through my veins. He has to know this matters so much more than a publicity stunt.

I push up on my toes, feeling a sudden need to be even closer. Freddie responds, his hands lifting to my face as the kiss shifts to something more intense. Lips parting. Hands grasping. Hearts pounding. The brush of his tongue. The graze of my teeth across his bottom lip.