9
Nora
True to his word, I barely saw Weston the rest of the week. He would come back in the evenings, guzzle water, and promptly pass out. He’d mentioned something about what he and Campbell were working on in the studio, but it was technical, and all these years with my rockstar brother hadn’t equipped me to understand. I’d thought the album was done. But there was a lot more that went into it when perfectionists like Campbell and West were working on it.
“Hey,” West said as he strode into the house, still holding his guitar.
“Hey, you got back early.”
“Blaire got irritated that Campbell’s home and spending every waking second on a new song even though the album is supposed to be done.”
I laughed. “That sounds right. Is the song good?”
“Yeah. Honestly, it’s absolutely necessary. We just didn’t know we were missing it.”
He tipped his head to the side, and I followed him into the bedroom between our two rooms. It had been converted into a music room with guitars, keyboards, an upright piano, and every other type of instrument I could name. Weston played all of them, including harmonica, saxophone, and trumpet. I had no idea how he could play them all.
He set the guitar into its position and sank down at the keyboard. I knew the piano would always be his favorite. He started to sketch out a melody. “What do you think of this?”
“Is this the new song?”
He shook his head. “Just something I’ve been working on.”
“I like it.” It was soft and lilting, strung together on a series of high notes. It drifted and spiraled and came back to the same tune again. “It’s beautiful. Doesn’t sound like Cosmere though.”
“No. Not for them.” His fingers continued as he stared up at me. My stomach flipped at that look. He was off in his own music dream world, and somehow, I’d been pulled into it like a tornado. My face heated at the connection. Then, abruptly, he stopped and looked away. “Something else.”
“Well, it’s good.”
“It was always my dream to play keys. I wanted to headline on them but realized quickly that it was impossible. Getting to do this with Campbell,” he said wistfully as he shook his head, “it’s a dream come true. Feels like everything is in my grasp finally.”
“You’ve earned it.”
He shrugged. “Just happy to be along for the ride.” He looked me up and down. “Are we still on for tonight?”
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m up for it if you are.”
“You bet, Snickers.”
My stomach fluttered at the ridiculous nickname. “I have no idea what to wear.”
“I can help.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Try on the options for me.”
“Okay,” I agreed. We’d decided on a cocktail bar, and I felt clueless.
“Last time was to get your feet wet. Practicing on frat bros and such in that bar was easy enough, but they’re not the kind of guy you want to date. You can use the same moves on people you would actually go on a date with.”
“Right. That makes sense.” I stared down at my sweats and laughed. “Probably not this then.”
“Probably not.”
“Give me a minute,” I told him.
I headed into my room. I had plenty of nice dresses. I wore a lot of them when I was working weddings, but I wanted something with a wow factor. Something that would make me get noticed. I’d spent so long in the shadows that I didn’t know how to look in my closet and pick something to get attention.
I grabbed a short black dress from the back and slid it over my curvy frame. I had more shoes than anything in the closet, and I settled on a pair of booties.
I strutted back down the hallway and found Weston still at the piano, notating the song onto sheet music. I cleared my throat. He turned around and went perfectly still. His eyes crawled down the length of my dress—from my exposed cleavage to my bare thighs.
He nearly choked. “You look great, but maybe something with color.”
My body heated from the way he’d seemed barely able to get the words out. So, maybe Weston Wright wasn’t completely impervious to me.
With that in mind, I returned to my closet and slid on a royal-blue dress that I’d worn out with Tamara once and promptly never wore again because it was way too short and tight. I had a feeling he was going to veto this one. I knew I looked hot and was interested to see if I got the same reaction.
“Well?” I asked, doing a small twirl for him.
His jaw clenched, and then he slowly released a breath. But I didn’t miss the way he took me in from top to bottom, as if he were about to devour me whole.
“Not that one,” he managed to get out.
A small smile of triumph rippled through me. Well, well, well, maybe I wasn’t just his best friend’s little sister.
I returned to my room, reached farther back in my closet, and grabbed a red dress with a flowy skirt that I’d never worn. I always felt like it was a little too showy for weddings, which was where I wore most of my cocktail attire, but it felt just right for this. I grabbed black heels with little buckles across the top that made my short legs look so much longer.
“That one,” Weston said as soon as I entered the music room. He coughed into his hand and then nodded. “Yep, that one.”
I did a twirl for him, the layers of the skirt floating upward as I did so. “You like it?”
“I love it,” he muttered.
“All right. I’ll do my hair and makeup, and then we can go.”