“That’s not going to happen.” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. For one thing, she didn’t want Jace to know how talented she thought he was. She didn’t want him to know she thought about him at all. For another, she didn’t want her brother to get all wide-eyed and suspicious—like he was now. “Between Wheelhouse and my daddy, you’ve got everything you need to make it in this industry.”
“And you,” he added, his voice thick. He cleared his throat, his gaze falling from hers. “Your song, I mean. I’m not sure what I did to wind up here, but I’m grateful.”
Either he meant it, or he was really good at lying. After Mickey, she wasn’t sure she was the most reliable judge of character. He did look like he meant it, that he was thankful and aware of how damn lucky he was. The thing was, she was thankful, too. And when he’d sung her words, they’d come to life. A person couldn’t fake that, could they? The look in his eyes. The yearning in his voice. It had been real. And whatever he’d suffered transformed her melody into something beautiful and haunting.
“Which reminds me,” Travis said, pointing at her with his fork. “Your song. The new one you were humming in here?”
She sighed, scooping up Clementine and pressing a kiss on the tip of her downy soft head.
“We know the drill, Krystal. You bake, we get new songs.” Travis served himself another slice.
“You do realize you’re a pain in the ass?”
“And you love me.” He tugged her into a hug. “Don’t try to deny it.”
“I won’t.” She sighed, smiling up at her brother.
“The more you avoid talking about it, the more likely it is I’ll make your life hell until I get answers.” He smiled. “And when I say hell, I mean tickling you.”
She tried to pull away, but he was too strong and she didn’t want to jostle Clementine.
“Come on, now.” Travis used a baby voice. “Emmy Lou already hummed some of it.”
She groaned as her brother started humming her song. Emmy hadn’t held anything back because he hummed through most of what she’d worked out.
“Nice.” Jace nodded. “A lot of soul.”
“Krystal can’t write any other way.” Travis released her. “She might have a bad attitude most of the time, and a short temper, and no patience, and a hell of a lot of opinions—”
“Really?” She elbowed him.
“But deep, deep, deep down inside, she’s a world-weary, fragile, and emotional soul.” Travis winked.
“Did you just quote our review from Entertainment Monthly?” She was laughing.
“Did you just admit that you read the review in Entertainment Monthly?” Her brother shook his head.
“Wait a sec.” Jace was frowning. “Entertainment Monthly said all that? What the hell sort of review is that?”
“They just said the deeply fragile and emotional soul part. Went on about how Krystal was underrated and truly gifted as a songwriter. Blah blah blah.” Travis grinned. “The bad attitude stuff is all me.”
“The song you’re working on.” Jace’s fingers were tapping a beat on the marble island. “It’s got a little bit of your dad’s song ‘Bring Her Home.’”
She shook her head. “Not really. Beat’s close but I’m thinking slower.” She closed her eyes and hummed it through, pausing now and then to adjust the pitch.
“Damn.” Travis was shaking his head when she was done. “Nice.”
“You had doubts?” She teased, setting Clementine on the floor and refilling the dog’s water bowl. “You hear that, baby? First, they want to hear what I’m working on, then seem surprised it’s any good.”
“Lyrics?” Travis asked.
She glared up at her brother. “Don’t push it.”
“Fine. I’ll get it out of you before long.” He yawned. “We’re heading to the airport in, what, four hours?”
“Yup.” She glanced at Jace. “You ready for tomorrow?”
Jace shook his head. “You mean flying to Charleston to sing, onstage, with Krystal King?” He kept shaking his head.