Faking Love

Chapter Eight: blurring the vine

"How on earth is karaoke conducive to bringing a couple together?" Daisy wondered aloud as Belle and Matthew took to the stage. What was next—playing Monopoly? A bloodbath would be more productive.

"Haven't you heard, Sugarplum?" Hunt draped his arm over the back of the booth, his fingertips grazing Daisy's shoulder through her dress before quickly disappearing. "Music is the food of love."

Music was the food of torture when a person was as tone-deaf as Daisy was.

And she wasn't the only one. She turned to survey the bar when Belle and Matthew finished the second chorus. She was pretty sure it was emptier than when they'd started.

"I feel like we're on school camp," she muttered as they voted for a winner.

"I don't know ..." Kenji held up a sheet of paper with Belle's name on it, his blinding grin contagious. "I'm living out my Cowell fantasy right now."

Laia made a humming sound, eyebrows waggling. "Always a pleasure discovering your kinks, baby."

Daisy tried not to gag.

Belle won the first round by a landslide, which was mostly because Matthew had bleeped himself during every sentence that sounded remotely like insinuation. The trend was continued by Honey during her face-off with Ruby, earning Belle and Ruby another point.

"You weren't kidding about the hardcore Christian thing," Hunt remarked, pushing the bowl of nachos he'd ordered toward Daisy. "Do you think Amira picked those songs for them on purpose?"

A little surprised by the gesture, Daisy looked between him and the food before taking a tortilla chip and loading it with dressings. "Why would she do that?"

"Maybe it's part of their program. To help loosen them up."

"Program?" Popping the salsa and avocado concoction in her mouth, Daisy smirked. "It's a retreat, Hunt, not rehab."

He raised a dark eyebrow, but she didn't get a chance to push him on it before Laia was poking her in the ribs. Daisy jolted, following the line of Lai's eye to the concierge.

Who was glaring at her.

"You're up," he said, flashing a smile from behind his clipboard that didn't make it to those cold, dead eyes.

Daisy matched it. "Pass."

"Pardon?"

Daisy repeated through a mouthful of cheese and sour cream, "I pass."

"You can't ..." The concierge looked between Daisy and Amira, exasperated. "You can't pass."

"Fine. I concede."

"Come on, Dais." Laia tugged on Daisy's dress. "You and me."

Daisy snorted a laugh that was wholly unbecoming. "I am not going up there. No way in hell." Because Daisy Collins didn't sing. Daisy Collins couldn't sing. Daisy Collins was doing everyone in that bar a huge ass favour by keeping her ass firmly planted on her seat.

"Oh, no. You're not losing this for us." Hunt reached across the booth to steal a shot from the batch Ruby had ordered. "Drink up, Collins."

She frowned. "I thought you said that you were opposed to alcohol?"

"No. I said that I don't drink." Her expression must have turned dubious, the memory of how she'd found him the night before surfacing in her mind, because Hunt smirked, and added, "Usually. But I never said I had a problem with boozing up my teammate to win a round of karaoke."

"Do you even know what the prize is?" It had to be good if it had Mr Cool acting so very uncool.

He beamed. "Glory."