14. Rory
RORY
I can admit when I’ve been a jerk.
The expression on Jace’s face when I said I didn’t want to go to one of his shows made me feel like a giant asshole. Cooper had made me feel stupid, like I was some clinger Jace couldn’t shake, so he finally gave in and married me. I don’t know why I let him get to me.
I’ve been agonizing over an apology, running it over and over again in my head, but Jace has kept himself busy. He’s hunkered down in the kitchen area with his guitar and a notebook. Apparently, the band has to write more songs if they want to get signed once the tour is over.
Part of me suspects he’s trying to get some space from me and the other part wonders if I’m an egomaniac and this has nothing to do with me.
“Am I crazy? I think I might be,” I whisper to Layla, who’s playing on a blanket on the floor of the master bedroom.
“Ba da ba.”
“You don’t say.”
She blows spit bubbles and tries to eat her fist. “Baa!”
“You’re right. Even if I didn’t hurt his feelings, I’m going to apologize.”
“Apologize for what?” Jace asks from the doorway.
I rest my hand over my chest. “You scared me. I didn’t hear the door open.”
That gets me a crooked grin. “I’m stealthy like that.” He motions over his shoulder. “We’re figuring out dinner. Wanna join us?”
“Oh, um, you guys can decide. I don’t want to impose.” I chew the inside of my cheek. “But could I talk to you for a sec?”
“Sure. What’s up?” He kneels next to me and picks up his daughter, smothering her in kisses that make her giggle.
“I feel bad about what I said. I didn’t mean to be rude.
I’d… I’d like to see one of your shows. I mean, if you want me there.
I just figured that I’ll always need to watch Layla, and loud music isn’t good for her.
Unless we have noise-canceling headphones.
I read a terrifying study about hearing loss and children. ”
Jace watches me so intently, I squirm, but he gives me another good-natured grin. “I’ll get Layla some headphones. And you don’t need to apologize. Cooper deserved your irritation. I’m not offended. I am surprised you haven’t heard our music, but God knows you’ve had better things to do.”
Is he really that humble? If he is, I feel like a bigger jerk. “I don’t know about that. I’d venture that writing original music is more important to humanity than filing books by the Dewey Decimal System.”
His green eyes go soft. “Did you always want to be a librarian?”
“When I was little, I wanted to own a bookstore, but that requires a lot of overhead. My stepmother told me I should be more practical. Since I’ll never have the money to open one, I thought being a librarian is probably the next best thing.”
He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Don’t count yourself out.
You never know what you can do until you try.
Being a librarian is really cool. I’m sure you’ll inspire a lot of kids to get into reading books because of your passion for them.
But that doesn’t mean you can’t also have a bookstore. ” He winks. “Just a thought.”
My heart races for some reason, and I smile. “So maybe my bookstore will have a section about Texas musicians and songwriters.”
His expression turns hopeful. “Think my band can get a spot? You know, if someone writes a book about us?”
“Not sure. I’ll have to hear you play before I make a decision,” I tease.
“Are you actually making a joke right now?”
I try to hold back a smile but fail. “It’s been known to happen from time to time.”
He chuckles. “Good to know I can put a smile on your face. And about the concert, we’ll have to make it happen on a night that works for you.”
Just like that, I know he’s not mad at me for what I said earlier, and I’m flooded with relief. “Can I ask a question? Is the name of your band a reference to that old Kansas song?”
His grin widens. “Shoulda known my classic rock girl would see the connection.”
Tilting my head, I study him. “I’m surprised you front a country band. With your love of classic rock, I mean.”
He shrugs. “We’re a little country and a little rock. But the truth is, I can’t be all rock ’cause it’s too hard to hide my twang.”
This time, I chuckle. “I see your point.”
Layla flaps her hands and shouts, “BA DA BA!”
“Listen to you.” He turns her in his arms. “Can you say Dada?”
Layla tilts her head. Purses her lips. Thinks about it before she mutters, “Mama.”
His smile falters as I smooth my hand over the back of her head where little curls sit up. “She’ll say ‘Daddy’ soon. She probably misses her mom.”
“I’m just gonna have to love her enough for two,” he says quietly.
His words make my throat tight. “You’re going to be a great father. I know she feels how much you adore her.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely.” When that smile returns, for some stupid reason, I feel like I’ve accomplished something significant. But I know Jace is affable. He can turn on the charm when he wants to. And yet he seems sincere around his daughter.
I twist my wedding band as I watch him with Layla, and then I realize I’m staring. “So, um, what are you feeding me tonight? Nothing with anchovies. Unless you want me to yak in your favorite pair of cowboy boots.”
“Harsh.” He laughs, and it lights up his whole face. “How about Hawaiian pizza?”
“We’ll never be friends if you try to get me to eat pineapple and ham on pizza.”
“See, you wouldn’t expect that to taste good, but the salty offsets the sweet. So you have balance. That’s the magic.”
“Jace!” someone shouts from the front of the bus. “Get up here!”
I hold out my arms. “I can take her.”
“Why don’t you take a break? I can watch her for a bit.” After he gets up, he holds out his hand and helps me stand. “Oh, don’t forget. We’re supposed to figure out our rules.”
Right. Rules. I’m starting to realize how much I’m going to need them.
During dinner, I sit next to Jace and try not to act as out of place as I feel. I got off to a bad start with his bandmates, and I’m not sure how to turn that around, so I keep my mouth shut.
Jace keeps Layla on his lap, somehow chatting with his buddies while he eats and serves her up little bites of mashed potatoes. I’m honestly shocked by how good he is with her. The rest of us have pizza. There’s no pineapple-ham combo in sight.
“So Rory, how did you and Jace meet?” Shane, the Sheldon lookalike/bassist, asks as he shoves half a slice in his mouth. “We’re all dying to know the story.”
Relieved he doesn’t hate me for making that “slappin’ da bass” joke, I nod to buy myself time.
Jace and I haven’t discussed this, so I go with the truth.
“I… We were in his brother’s wedding together, and I guess we formally met at a family dinner.
” Jace barely spoke to me that night because he was preoccupied with his phone.
Jace leans back and tosses his arm around my shoulders, pulls me close and kisses my temple, sending my heart into an arrhythmia, especially when I get a whiff of his citrusy cologne.
Has he always smelled this good? “I was kind of an ass that night. Was busy scheduling a show and going back and forth with the bar owner. Felt bad about it, so I asked her out afterward, and the rest is history.”
Good save. “I can vouch for his assholery.”
The guys all chuckle, even Jace.
By the time dinner is over, I’m wiped out, and so is the baby.
I get her changed into her jammies and rock her in my arms until she falls asleep.
Then I set her down in the crib, which Frank secured in a small closet, so it won’t move around.
There’s a small curtain we can pull across the opening if there’s too much light for her.
And it gets good ventilation. I checked.
I glance at my phone. It’s only eight o’clock. That seems too early to go to bed, but today has been stressful. I keep waiting for Jace, so we can talk about the rules, but he’s obviously busy.
After I clean up in the bathroom and change into my pajamas, I curl up on the bed and pull the covers over me.
I guess the rules will have to wait.
At some point, Jace tiptoes in. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”
“It’s okay,” I slur as I burrow deeper into the blankets.
“I meant to tuck in Layla.”
“It was no trouble.” I crack open my eyes and find him peering over her crib. He loves his daughter. That much is obvious. “I think the excitement of today got to her because she knocked out right away.”
When he turns to me, he smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “We never discussed sleeping arrangements if we had to share a bedroom. That’s on me. Rhett told me to be prepared, and I got swept up with packing.”
“How about you sleep on your side of the bed, by the baby, and I sleep on mine?”
“You sure? ’Cause I can crash on the couch in the lounge.”
“I don’t want to be responsible for you throwing out your back because I won’t let you sleep in here. It’s fine.” Because as we’ve all established, I’m not his type. I have zero worries about him making a move on me.
That puts a crooked grin on his stupidly handsome face. He heads to the bathroom and returns a few minutes later. After he whips off his t-shirt, sending his thick hair all over the place, he pauses. “Is it okay if I sleep in my boxers? I get hot.”
Holy Adonis-like six-pack. I toss my arm over my face so I don’t linger on his muscular chest or the way his jeans hang low on his hips.
“Whatever you have to do.” I’m starting to think I’m being punished for something I did in a previous life.
My ex had a nice body, but he can’t compare to what Jace has going on.
When he slides between the sheets, I get a whiff of toothpaste and the fading citrus notes of his cologne. It’s a nice smell. Too nice.
“How was your first day on the bus?” he whispers.
“Chaotic. Stressful. Unnerving. And you?”
He blows out a breath. “Honestly? It was one of the best days of my life. But I’m sorry it put you through the wringer. Don’t let the guys bring you down. They’re a tough crowd, but they’ll warm up.”