“Probably starving,” Travis said, smiling up at her.
“I am.” Krystal took a sausage roll. “Here, Daddy. Jace and I wrote this.”
“Don’t believe her,” Jace interrupted. “She had it all figured out—”
“You fixed the tempo,” she interrupted.
“That’s nothing.” He was grinning and staring at her.
Her cheeks felt hot. “It’s something.” She spun away from them and made herself a cup of coffee, humming softly while the little coffee maker filled her favorite “The best breed is a rescue” coffee mug. But when she turned back, they were all watching her.
Except her father—he was poring over the sheet music.
Travis appeared to be in shock.
Emmy was a little happy and a little worried.
And Jace… She wasn’t ready to interpret what that expression meant. All she knew was that it made her feel good. Special. Worthy.
What am I doing? She took a sip of her coffee and prayed the last leg of the trip went fast.
But when the bus pulled down the long Spanish-oak- lined drive, Krystal’s panic returned—like a sledgehammer to the chest.
“Luke says it’s close to the studio,” Jace was saying. “I can’t keep taking advantage of your generosity.”
It was no big deal. Jace should have his own place, some privacy. She just wished she’d had a little heads-up to get used to the idea of not having him around all the time.
“I wish Luke had said something.” Her father was shaking his head. “We’ve got plenty of room. Hate to see you throwing money away.”
“Wheelhouse is paying for it.” Jace shrugged, the fabric of his T-shirt pulling tight across his shoulders.
She’d miss those shoulders.
Her father nodded. “Of course they are.” He glanced her way. “Probably best. You two keep spending too much time together, you might start to believe you’re a couple. And that would be terrible.” He chuckled.
Her daddy was teasing her about Jace? “I can give that song to someone else.” She held her hand out.
Hank shook his head, reaching out to tuck a curl behind her ear. “I’m not giving it up. Sometimes I marvel at the things you put to music. You did good, baby girl.”
Her daddy’s praise had always mattered. She held on to it as the bus doors opened and they climbed down the steps to a world far removed from their life on the road. Probably for the best. Real life always caught up in the end. Better to let things cool down between them before they headed out on the next leg of the tour.
Luke was waiting, leaning against the same four-door diesel pickup truck Jace had driven before.
“Looks like you’ve got a ride,” Hank said, holding out his hand. “I’ll see you at the studio in the morning, son.”
Jace shook his hand. “Yes, sir.”
By the time the bus was unpacked and they were the only two hedging their goodbyes, Krystal’s panic was barely under control. She had no reason to go to the studio in the morning. No reason to spend time with him between now and their first ACMF rehearsal. And it felt…wrong. For the last few weeks, she’d come to rely on him. His presence, his voice, and his touch had become a necessary part of her day. Now she was supposed to be okay without him?
He stared down at her, his light brown gaze wandering over her face. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
She didn’t know what that meant. Or what she was supposed to say. If she could manage to say a damn thing.
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I don’t want to go.”
She could breathe a little easier. “You don’t?”
He shook his head.