She took a long swig off her water bottle and waited. As far as she was concerned, their set sounded good. They’d tweaked the amps, adjusted their sound reverb, and made accommodations for the outdoor acoustics. Since they were singing tried-and-true fan favorites, it wasn’t like they needed more practice.
“Y’all good?” Travis asked.
Emmy Lou nodded. “You?” she asked Krystal.
She gave a thumbs-up, her gaze sweeping the mostly empty audience. Her father was there, with Heather and Luke, waiting for her and Jace to do a quick run-through. As soon as that was over, they had a couple of hours before the show tonight. They were slated to perform and emcee Sunday’s awards and benefit, but it had been implied, meaning expected by the label, that they put in a rehearsal appearance.
While Emmy Lou and Travis packed up, Jace walked across the stage carrying his banged-up Martin Dreadnought acoustic guitar. His tractor brand T-shirt did all the right things for his broad chest and shoulders and showcased the network of inked designs on his arms. His faded jeans, well-polished boots, and a Roughnecks football cap made him one sexy country boy. Sweet, talented, and smiling at her. Damn, but he made her so, so happy. She should stop staring at him, she should, but it wasn’t going to happen.
“Anyone ever tell you that Jace guy is a lucky son of a bitch?” he asked when she was within earshot.
“Why is that?” She took a few steps closer, his smile reeling her in.
He tipped his cap back. “He gets to do this,” he murmured, snagging an arm around her waist and pulling her in for a kiss. “Right here.” His mouth brushed hers.
“If you think this makes him lucky, I’d love to know what last night made him.” She kissed him.
“Worn out. Sore.” He chuckled. “With no complaints.”
“You two going to sing?” Luke called from one of the wooden seats in the amphitheater. “Or is this a new act?”
The audience laughed.
“Is that why we’re here?” he asked, still nuzzling her.
She teased. “I guess we should sing then.”
“If you say so.” With a sigh and a kiss on the nose, they ran a quick sound check and Jace tuned his guitar.
Krystal turned, bending for her water bottle, when she saw Becca. The girl was standing in the shadows, watching. Krystal waved and she waved back.
“Who are you waving to?” Jace asked.
“Becca.” She took a sip. “She said you two met last night?”
He nodded, a crease forming between his brows.
But questions would have to wait until they were done here. They weren’t the only ones lined up for some rehearsal time. After tonight, the stage would be in constant use for the next seventy-two hours. Two smaller stages had been set up in the fields behind the Opry building. These weren’t the headliners, but they were the perfect place for new bands to get heard and seen. And ACMF was all about that. Nonstop, round-the-clock music with nonstop, round-the-clock food and beverages and a whole hell of a lot of merchandise tents set up.
“Ready?” he asked, his fingers strumming their song from his guitar.
She loved watching him play. Loved watching him sing. And loved Heather for entering him in the reality show that landed him right here, with her, singing their song. Each performance was different somehow, channeling their dynamics—fueling their hunger and sharing it with their audience. Singing with him was personal, intimate, and freeing.
Jace didn’t hold back. Whether he was singing or making sweet love, he did it with one hundred percent of his focus and energy. Which was why singing—or making love—made him unforgettable. The song ended and she and Jace wound up tangled up, breathless, so close it would be easy to wind her arms around him and—
“Get a room,” Travis yelled from the audience. “No one wants to see that.”
Jace laughed. “Everyone is a critic.”
“They’re jealous because of all the sex you’re getting,” she teased.
“How do they know?” His brow cocked. “It’s not like I posted a scorecard on that Insta-thing.”
She was laughing then. “That would be awesome.”
He took her hand as they walked offstage, to find Becca there, pacing, a mic in her hand. She wore what looked like an extra-long men’s western shirt. Her braided leather and silver belt was clasped with a massive belt buckle. Her boots had a fringe of silver running down the back. And the only makeup she wore was too-bright pink lipstick.
“You up?” Krystal asked.