And damn, she was pretty. “Forget it.” Thinking about her in the shower was a bad idea. He pulled off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. “Something keeping you up?”
She nodded, looked like she was going to say something more, then thought better of it.
“Music help?” he asked. “I do that. Work through it. Over and over?”
She pressed her eyes shut.
He started humming her song and was instantly rewarded with a smile. She kept her eyes closed, but she was definitely smiling.
“No,” she interrupted. “Like this.” She took it down a note, softened the tempo a beat, leaning closer to him. “Don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” He stared into those green, green eyes. “Better.”
Her gaze fell to his lips. “You think you’re charming, humming my song, being polite, and looking…like you do.” Her brow rose high, and she stared at him for a long time before adding, “But you’re up to something.”
She thought he was charming? And what the hell did that mean: Looking like you do? Was that a good thing? It didn’t sound like it, even though he was pretty sure it could be a very good thing. If she trusted him. Why would she? She was wary of people, men—especially those looking to use her as their ticket to fame—most of all. Maybe, when they’d known each other for more than a week, she’d start to believe that, with him, what you saw was what you got. That didn’t mean he wasn’t curious to know what sort of diabolical plans she thought he had. “Like what?”
“I’m still working that part out.” She yawned, her eyes drifting shut. “Just know I’m watching you.”
He smiled, watching her features soften in sleep. Try as he might, sleep eluded him. With his legs stretched out in front of him and his head propped on his jacket, he was comfortable enough. His brain wasn’t cooperating.
Might be because tonight’s concert was important. It was the first time Krystal’s new song was being performed. Also, they’d be singing it together.
In one week, he’d be the Three Kings opening act. His own show. His own band. His own music. Shit. Was he ready for this?
He blew a slow breath out, staring out the small window at the lightening sky. The black was giving way to a deep blue, shot through with deep purples and the hint of pink. A new day. A new world. All good. It was up to him now. And he wouldn’t let Heather or Luke or Krystal or Hank or Emmy Lou or any of the people counting on him down.
Chapter 6
“You were basically sleeping in his lap.” Travis scratched the back of his head. “Cuddled close and all.”
She scowled at him. Had she fallen asleep on Jace? Yes. Had she woken up with her head on his chest? Again, yes. How he’d gotten his arm around her was a mystery… But she had not, absolutely not, been all over him. Had that stopped Travis from teasing her the entire time they’d been rehearsing for tonight’s show? Not in the slightest.
“All over him.” Travis clucked, shaking his head.
Unintentional or not, she had sort of bee
n all over him. Legs in his lap. Head buried against his chest. Arms around his waist. And he’d been holding on, keeping her wrapped up tight in his big, strong, tattooed arms. He’d smelled like heaven and felt twice as good. It had been a hell of a way to wake up.
But it would have been better without an audience.
“Uh-huh.” Travis picked up his guitar.
Don’t ask. Don’t acknowledge. Don’t even respond. But the look on his face had her asking, “Uh-huh, what?”
He plucked a few notes. “Nothing.” But his grin said otherwise.
“Travis.” Emmy Lou was doing her best to keep them both on task. Poor thing. Didn’t she know that was impossible? By now, she should trust that, solid rehearsal or not, they’d manage to put on a great show. Once the lights were on and people were screaming their names, they all understood the responsibility they had to their fans. “We were all tired. They fell asleep. That’s all. Leave it alone.” The look she shot him was intended to be firm—maybe even intimidating.
“Sure. Sure.” He winked at Emmy. Still, his tone said something entirely different.
That was all. Neither one of them had made the conscious decision to become a sleeping pretzel. She had tried to extricate herself from their tangle of limbs without waking him. And failed. One second, he’d been all dead weight and deep sleep. The next, he’d pulled her close, smiling at her with his bedroom eyes.
“I’m just making an observation. Krystal might not hate him after all.” He chuckled. “And he didn’t seem too put out to wake up with her all up in his personal space.”
No, he hadn’t. He’d seemed happy to see her. Until the sleep had cleared from his eyes and he’d sat bolt upright, knocking their heads together and drawing every eye on the plane their way—those that weren’t already staring at them, that is—before mumbling an apology and disappearing into the bathroom.
Emmy Lou looked back and forth between them. “I’m not sure what you’re hoping to accomplish, Trav. I think it’s best if we all get along—since we’re going to finish out the rest of the tour together.”