Accidental Billionaire by Emily Evans

a tip and turned her back on the guy, carrying the glasses over to the table in a tight triangle. She set them down with a lack of finesse that said she’d never been a bartender and nudged one toward Tate. He mumbled, “Thanks,” and chugged it.
    “What was that guy saying to you?” Logan asked.
    “That the band was good,” she lied.
    Tate narrowed his eyes. So did Logan, and they really resembled each other in that moment. It made her smile.
    “Looked like he was dogging you,” Tate said.
    “Not sure what that means, but nope, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t that.”
    The band was returning, and Tate looked between them and Logan. “Gotta go.” He turned back. “Don’t let her go over there by herself. You never know who’s in these crowds.”
    Awww. That was cute; he was younger than her and looking out for her.
    Logan nodded. “Yeah.”
    Tate put one hand on the stage and jumped back up. He got into position and the lead said, “We’ve got one more set for you. Then the Kay Town Band will take over.” The audience cheered, hearing the name of the headliner. She’d never heard of them.
    Baylee opened her palms when Logan didn’t volunteer the obvious. “Well? What’d you say to Tate?”
    “We didn’t really talk.”
    “What do you mean you didn’t talk?”
    “I asked where Cleo was, he said, ‘at home’ and just sort of shut down. Then we talked about nothing, and then the guy hitting on you, and you returned with the water.”
    “Oh.”
    His shoulders tensed, and he stared straight out. “He probably wants an answer, but I don’t have it.”
    “What do you think of his band?
    “Tate’s better than they are. But he’s not ready. He needs practice, more vocal control, more stage presence.” They listened to the last set, and Tate left without coming back over to them. Logan stared at his phone. “Cleo picks him up.” He checked the clock. Eleven pm. “At least it’s early.”
    “My curfew was nine when I was fourteen.”
    “Midnight at the boarding school.” Logan’s gaze was on the stage. “Tate should reform the band as lead, get more rehearsal time, more coaching.”
    “So maybe he’s in a good spot, hanging back, getting experience.”
    “Maybe. But it can get hard to break up a band when things get going.”
    The other band came on. They started with a slow duet, romantic, whiny. The dancing, fist waving, body slammers left the floor for the bar. A few couples strolled out to take their place. Logan curled his hand over hers. He rose.
    Baylee let him pull her up. “You want to dance?”
    He grinned and took her in his arms.
    Baylee’s eyes drifted closed. She breathed in his cologne, sensing his energy. He led, his hand at her waist, her hand wrapped in his. They traced across the hardwood dance floor. His arms slipped around her waist and she put her own around his shoulders. He tugged her closer. The music met their movements, flowing them together, and apart, and spin and together. Logan could dance. The song shifted to a faster number and more people crowded onto the dance floor. Baylee opened her eyes as the drum picked up the rhythm, taking the song from slow to fast. She forced herself into the moves, her eyes on Logan, his on hers.
    She didn’t have a ton of dancing to compare it to, the venue wasn’t the best, the music wasn’t the best, but the guy…. Logan made her feel…warm inside, happy to be with him, wanting to be closer. She didn’t want the date to end. The thoughts jarred her. She’d never felt that way during a date. And, she didn’t even know if this qualified as a real date. She’d asked him out. Did he consider this a date?
    The music slowed, and Logan pulled her closer again. She felt floaty, dreamy. She threw her arms around his neck and snuggled closer. Logan’s arms tightened.
    “Tate said you were here.” Cleo’s strident voice came from her right. “Are you checking up on me? I’m picking him up. I’ve really been