Krystal nodded.
“They look a little dry,” CiCi went on, passing the basket on to him, her fingers brushing along the back of his hands.
He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: her maybe-accidental-maybe-not touch or how easily the woman belittled her daughter.
Jace nodded, grabbed two biscuits, and passed along the basket. “We sound good, if I do say so myself.” Hank had played back some of their recording and it had set the hairs on the back of his neck straight up.
“You should.” Hank nodded. “Good to recognize talent when you hear it. You two were meant to sing that song together. Sent a cut to Wheelhouse already. Ethan heard it, loved it, can’t wait to get it out.”
Krystal looked up then, the sweetest smile on her face.
“See, Krissy?” CiCi nodded, cutting her chicken into tiny pieces. “I know you were upset over the way things worked out, but if Ethan loved it, then it’s a surefire hit. I may never have been on that stage, but I do know this business. Wouldn’t hurt you to listen to me every once in a while.”
Krystal’s smile faded. Her gaze bounced his way before returning to her father.
“I made a call, CiCi.” Hank’s voice dipped, drawing all eyes his way. “Krystal is singing with Jace. It was the right call. They sound…well, it was radio gold. And Ethan was smiling like the cat that ate the canary.”
CiCi carefully laid her silverware on her plate, her gaze locked with her husband. “I’m so glad everything went so smoothly. I’d hate for Jace or his agent to be upset, since we agreed he’d sing with Emmy Lou.”
Jace opened his mouth, but Krystal landed another solid kick to the shins under the table. A warning. That much he got. Clearly, there was some tension between the mother and daughter. Or maybe CiCi was used to getting her way. But the idea of letting CiCi King chip away at Krystal’s high—his high—was just plain wrong. “I guarantee you Luke will be happy. If I’m happy, he’s happy.” He sliced the biscuit open and spread on the butter, ignoring the narrow-eyed look the older woman shot his way.
“You should have heard them, Momma.” Emmy Lou smiled. “They had me in tears.”
CiCi shoved her plate away. “I hope our fans aren’t too disappointed. Hard to sing along to a song if you’re crying. And you know how our fans love to sing along.” Her smile was strained.
Jace considered himself a pretty easygoing guy. He wasn’t quick to make assumptions or judgments because it bothered the shit out of him when people did it to him. But sitting here, watching CiCi King at work, was a challenge. He didn’t know what to make of her. This woman was Krystal’s mother, wasn’t she? She should be proud of her daughter—both her daughters—and support them. He didn’t know what the hell she was doing, but he didn’t like it.
“I’m a fan,” Jace said, smiling. “I have every CD. Listened to them all so many times I’ve got them all memorized.” He shrugged. “As a fan, I’ll say this song? The one I—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—I got to sing with Krystal King? The fans will love it.” He kept staring at Krystal, willing her to look at him. She didn’t.
“Damn right.” Travis held up his green-cut glass. “Cheers to Krystal and Jace and their new song.”
CiCi was the last to toast, but she did it—reluctant or not. Once that was done, conversation turned back to neutral topics like football, the latest top-ten chart, and the possibility of bringing on a new costume designer. Jace did his best to engage, but he couldn’t shake off the bitter taste in his mouth. His mother had been gone so long she was more a faded angel than anything else. But he treasured what he remembered: her soft voice and gentle smile. To have her slight Heather like that was beyond imagining.
He was offended on Krystal’s behalf—so much so that he ended up eating five of her biscuits. They weren’t the least bit dry. They were delicious. If there’d been any more in the basket, he’d have probably eaten those, too.
“What time is our flight in the morning?” Krystal asked, standing to clear dishes.
“Travis, get up and help.” Hank pointed at his son. “You better not start breaking dishes to get out of it, either.”
Travis shrugged and started to stand, but Jace cut in. “Let me. It’s the least I can do after your hospitality.”
“He’s right.” Travis smiled and leaned back in his chair.
“Everyone want pie?” Krystal asked.
“You made pie, too?” Her father patted his stomach. “You know I do.”
“A small piece for him,” CiCi said. “None for me.”
Because you’re hard-hearted.
Jace kept his smile in place, balancing plates and his temper all the way to the kitchen. But once the door swung shut behind them, all bets were off. Still, this was her family and, after that, the last thing he wanted to do was upset her. “It’s been a while since I’ve done the whole family-dinner thing, but I don’t remember it being so…”
Krystal put her plates on the counter and faced him, brows high and arms crossed. “Warm? Supportive? Full of love and laughter? Welcome to my world.”
He wasn’t sure what to say, but after that, he had a whole new respect for her.
A ball of wispy white hair hobble-ran through the dog door, emitting a few yipping barks and whines, weaving between Krystal’s legs until she crouched to give the animal her full attention. “Hey, baby. I’m sorry I have to keep you locked up in here.” She knelt, cradling the dog’s head in her hands. “Don’t want you upsetting Gramma CiCi any more than usual.”