“Pfft, you never have to worry about money.”
I flattened the palm of my hand against his chest.
“I work hard for my money.”
“You do. I’m only saying you can do whatever your heart desires.”
“So, if I wanted to go back and perform on street corners.”
“Hell, no. That is never happening.”
I threw my hands on my hips. “Is that so?”
“You are opening up for incredible artists, your name is getting out there in the music industry,” he said, his sharp eyes staring down at me, “and you want to sing on the streets?”
His tone was harsher than I expected.
“Many famous singers have been known to busk on the streets now and then.”
“That’s them, not you.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Scott would have my head. It’s challenging enough, keeping the paparazzi away from you.”
I grabbed his lapels and pulled him to me. “They are only interested in you.”
Ben lowered his head, brushing his lips against mine.
“Keep thinking that. You are a much better picture than I could ever be,” he said, planting a firm kiss on my lips.
It hadn’t been fun, getting my picture taken at the gym and being spread out on page six of the Post, but that was the life I had with Ben.
“Are you ready to go back in?” he asked.
“You know what I would love to do? Have a beignet.”
Having alone time was always a priority with us, even though there were many nights where it was hard to find the time. He was heading back to New York the following day, and all I wanted to do was enjoy the moment with him.
“I thought I was sweet enough for you,” he joked.
“You are the opposite of sweet—my ass is still hurting from last night.”
A devilish grin spread across his face. “Next time, I may need to place a sausage between those bagels.”
I rolled my eyes. Such a wise ass.
The End