Sinful Ella (Seven Ways to Sin 6)

“It goes with the dress,” I’d explained. “Just something I’m trying out.”

Now, I sent up a silent prayer that I wouldn’t embarrass myself too much.

“This way, this way,” Valentina said, waving us along. She led us backstage, to a small room. Martine went off in the opposite direction, mumbling something about finding the bar. “The main act has dibs on the larger green room, I’m afraid,” Valentina said. “But it looks like two thirds of you are basically ready, anyway.” Her gaze fell on me. “Do you have any questions?”

Before I could answer, a voice interrupted us. “Valentina! Have you seen—” the owner of the voice stopped short as he saw us. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, a thick Scottish accent giving his voice a pleasant burr. Behind me, Susanna and Liz giggled shrilly and nudging each other. Even I found myself staring. He just looked so familiar. I studied him, trying to place where I’d seen him before. He was an average height, a little taller than me, with messy brown hair that gave him the appearance of having just rolled out of bed. Effortlessly cute. And, of course, the Scottish accent didn’t hurt.

“Not at all, Howie,” Valentina purred. “I was just showing the girls around. These are the Sinful Sisters, they’ll be opening for you tonight.”

Susanna elbowed past me. “I’m Susanna,” she said, preening. “This is my sister, Liz. Where are you from? Your accent is so exotic . . .”

“Thank you,” Howie said, hardly sparing her a glance. “And your name is?” he asked me, smiling to reveal an impressive set of dimples.

“Ella,” I said. Suddenly, I realized why he looked so familiar. I turned to Valentina. “Are we opening for the Prince Charmings?” I asked.

Valentina beamed. “You’ve heard of them!” she said. “We’re so lucky to have them with us every week.” She pinched Howie’s dimpled cheek affectionately, and he ducked his head, smiling. “I’ll leave you four to get acquainted.”

“I’m confused,” Liz said, wrinkling her nose as she looked between me and Howie. “Do you two know each other?”

“Howie’s the bass player for the Prince Charmings,” I explained. Howie gave me an amused look, and I blushed. “I’m, um . . . I’m a fan,” I mumbled.

“I’m flattered,” Howie said.

Susanna sighed noisily, but Howie didn’t so much as glance at her. She huffed. “Come on,” she said to her sister. “Let’s go finish getting ready.”

“Oh, but—” Liz began to protest, and Susanna silenced her with a look.

“I said come on,” Susanna repeated, taking Liz by the arm and marching her into the dressing room. Howie watched them, bemused.

“They seem . . . nice,” he said, as the door slammed behind them.

“They’re not so bad,” I said half-heartedly. “They’re just . . . nervous.”

“And you?” Howie asked, and I shifted under his gaze.

“What about me?”

“Are you nervous?”

“A little,” I admitted.

“Here.” To my surprise, Howie took me by the hand, and I felt his touch like a shock. “Let me show you around a little, calm your nerves.”

“You don’t have to—” I began, but he was already pulling me along.

“I’ll have to introduce you to the rest of the guys after the show,” he said as he led me through a winding backstage area. “We’ve all got our own preshow rituals, so now’s probably not the best time.” He said the last part apologetically.

“That’s okay,” I said automatically, heart pounding at the idea of meeting my favorite band. We were opening for the Prince Charmings! I tried to wrap my head around this, but it still didn’t feel real. Howie probably already thought I was a silly, anxious mess. I could barely look at him, let alone think of anything interesting or worthwhile to say. I cast around desperately for something to ask to fill the silence.

“How long have you been in the US?” I asked finally. In all the videos and interviews I had watched of the Prince Charmings, I didn’t know if any of them had ever touched on what had brought Howie over from Scotland.

“Two years,” he said, his dimples growing deeper. “When I was eighteen, I saw an ad online: a band in New York looking for a bass player. I had taught myself to play the bass when I was in secondary school—I mean, middle school—so I sent in a video audition. It was just a whim, but I guess Grant, Saul, and Darren liked it. I moved over here, joined the band, and the rest is history.”

“So you’re . . . twenty now?” I asked. Howie nodded. “So we’re the same age.”

“Yeah?” Howie flashed that charming smile again. “I wonder what else we have in common.”

“Well, I definitely haven’t traveled as much as you,” I said, a little wistfully. “I’ve barely been out of West Virginia.”

“Plenty of time for that,” Howie assured me.