Take It On The Run

Chapter 19

POV: Sloan

"Please tell me you still sing, sunshine."

Sumner's nickname for me always brought a smile to my face. For one, it reminded me of my mother's favorite song, You Are My Sunshine. It also made me feel like I was this bright, shiny source of joy for him.

"Not really," I admitted, taking a healthy swig of my french 75. The bubbly citrus concoction soothed my nerves as I scanned everyone in the restaurant for the fifth time.

Sumner leaned in close, slinging his arm around my shoulders. I loved that he'd chosen to sit next to me instead of across the booth.

"Why not?" His thick brows furrowed. "You used to have such a beautiful singing voice—alto, if I'm not mistaken."

I averted my gaze, stirring the last few bites of food around my bowl. Sumner had brought me to this quaint little hole-in-the-wall with the best shrimp and grits I'd ever tasted. My food seemed to turn to ash on my tongue then, the bright paintings and colorful mixed-medium works of art that covered every inch of wall space dimming to a dull gray.

"I appreciate the compliment, Sum, but singing in front of people is one of the fastest ways to garner unwanted attention." The kind with the potential to be filmed and uploaded onto the internet.

I didn't think I was good enough to go viral or anything, but I was sure The Collectors had invested in facial recognition software. All it would take is one moment of weakness, one Instagram or Facebook post from a stranger at a karaoke bar, to telegraph my precise location.

"Don't you ever just sing for yourself?" he asked, head cocking to one side as he studied my face.

As a rule, I tried not to dwell on the things I'd lost the day The Collectors came for me—things that once gave me joy or things I couldn't change. It was the only way I could emotionally survive. But singing was something Sumner and I had shared an affinity for as kids.

I shrugged and smiled, attempting to appear more unaffected than I truly was. "Does the shower count?"

"Oh, for sure." He lifted three fingers into the air, signaling our waitress to bring us the check. "Now the question is, do I need to shower with you in order to hear that gorgeous voice of yours again? Or will I have to coax it out of you by naughtier means?"

I recalled his earlier threat to spank me and discovered that I didn't hate the prospect.

My cackle was genuine this time as I smacked his thigh. "You're so bad."

"Only when I'm with you."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure you are, Sum." I didn't believe for a single second that he didn't put the moves on groupies. Women had a tendency to throw themselves at musicians. On top of that, Sumner was drop dead gorgeous.

A long dreadlock fell into his face then, and I fought the urge to tuck it behind his ear. Most of his hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, revealing a chic undercut.

He looked so stylish with his gold nose ring, black skinny jeans, and a floral, geometric patterned Hawaiian shirt. Normally, I wasn't into beards, but his was trimmed short, giving him an artsy yet rugged aesthetic that made me weak in the knees.

His hazel eyes had always stood out starkly against his deep brown skin, which I now noticed was embossed with faint black and gold tattoos. His arms were covered in them, along with the backs of his hands and fingers. I wondered what they signified or if they were purely decorative.

The waitress strode up to us and dropped something in the center of the table, snapping me out of my lust-fueled perusal.

Before I could take the leather folder, Sumner snatched it, dropping enough cash inside to cover the check and provide an extremely generous tip.