As if he suddenly remembered something, Rex turned toward Daisy, his expression carrying that faintly mischievous glint of his.
"I finished the song," he said casually, as though he were talking about a homework assignment.
For a heartbeat Daisy froze, her mind lagging behind his words. Then, like a rush of lightning, the memory came back, the encounter in the car, his smooth voice weaving a beautiful melody, only to stop halfway. And then, the mortifying realization of why he had done it: to keep her from catching herself sneaking glances where she shouldn't have. He'd done it deliberately, she realized back then, to keep her distracted… and to stop her from noticing where her gaze had wandered.
Her cheeks heated before she could stop them, the blush blooming across her face like a guilty confession. She could still see that moment, feel the closeness of the car, hear the unfinished notes hanging in the air. The memory was both infuriating and… embarrassingly sweet.
