Chapter 4
“Ican’t believe Midnight Storm flies commercial,” Jo said as she stepped out of the town car Derek had hired. It was the swanky kind with little bottles of water in the back and a driver who called her ma’am.
They’d had just enough time to stop by Derek’s hotel to grab his bags before they headed to the airport.
For most of the drive, Derek was focused on his phone, no doubt texting and emailing with other important people who wore dress pants on the weekend and didn’t think twice about dropping four grand on a nanny for a few days.
Jo didn’t have fancy people to text, but she did shoot off a quick message to her group chat with the girls to let them know she’d be out of town.
No one replied immediately, and she’d tucked the phone back in her purse as the car pulled up to the airport, determined not to let it get her down.
Her friends were all off living their best lives, shacked up with gorgeous men who worshipped the ground they walked on, and she was happy for them.
Over the freaking moon. But sometimes she missed the days when Kyla and Molly still shared her small apartment with her, and they’d order a pizza and have too much cheap wine and commiserate about their lackluster love lives.
Now it was only Jo’s love life that was lackluster, the night before notwithstanding.
That hadn’t been lacking in luster at all.
“They haven’t had a hit in ten years. Were you expecting a private jet?” Derek retrieved their bags and tipped the driver. Settling his hand on her lower back, he guided her into the terminal. Heat bloomed beneath his palm at the memory of the feel of his hand on other parts of her anatomy.
No. Be professional.
“It must be wild to be the person who gets seated next to a member of the band. There you are, flying off to your accounting conference or whatever, and here comes Beckett freakin’ Hayes and, oh look, it’s Nico Valente. Rockstars everywhere you turn.”
“Accounting conference?”
“Or whatever.”
He set their bags down at their feet with a beleaguered sigh. “They’re normal people, Jo.”
“Oh, I know that. Once you’ve seen Zach house a cheeseburger, any illusion that those guys are anything but mere mortals is gone.
You, on the other hand,” she said, her eyes trailing over his biceps and chest. Thankfully he was too busy scanning the terminal to notice her teeny-tiny temporary lapse in professionalism.
“You get on your phone with a little texty-text and suddenly a sold-out flight has two extra seats. Talk about power.”
“That’s not power. That’s just money.”
“Only someone who’s never had to worry about money doesn’t realize they’re the same thing.”
He stopped his perusal of the other travelers to turn his full attention to her, his brow furrowed, lips pulled down at the corners.
He looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, he was interrupted by the high-pitched shriek of a seven-year-old girl from across the terminal. “Daddy!”
The child barreled across the crowded space, weaving in between travelers, two blonde braids bouncing down her back as she ran.
She launched herself into Derek’s waiting arms, wrapping herself around him like a spider monkey.
She only came up to the middle of his torso, and she pressed her cheek against the starchy fabric of his button-down.
“Daddy, I’m going with you to the gold beach!”
Derek smoothed one hand over her head and held her close with the other, affection crinkling his eyes at the corners. “The town is called Playa de Oro, peanut, but I don’t think there’s actually any gold on the beach.”
“But there might be. We won’t know until we look.”
He chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.”
She peered around Derek’s waist at Jo. “Who’s that?”
“Annie, I told you not to run so far ahead.” An exhausted-looking woman in high-waisted, tailored jeans and a designer sweater emerged from the crowd, a pink Princess Peach backpack slung over her shoulder and a small rolling suitcase dragging behind her. Even tired and annoyed, she was gorgeous.
“Hey, sugar.” Derek reached for the bags and dropped a kiss on the woman’s cheek. “How’s your mom?”
“Still in critical condition, but she’s stable. Thank you for this. I know it’s not ideal.” Chelsea adjusted her tortoise-shell glasses and spoke matter-of-factly as she handed off the backpack. The tiny pink bag looked ridiculous hanging from Derek’s broad shoulder.
“We’ll make it work. Won’t we, peanut?”
His daughter had yet to loosen her grip on his waist despite keeping her gaze locked on Jo. The wary expression was so like her father’s that Jo had to stifle a laugh.
“I asked my assistant to send over the names of some reputable nannying agencies in the San Diego area—” Chelsea began.
“No need.”
“Derek, you can’t bring her to all the band’s events this week. I know she likes tagging along, and I know the guys are great with her, but they also have a job to do. You’re going to need someone to watch her.”
“That’s why Jo is coming with us.”
Chelsea frowned. “Jo?”
Jo lost the staring contest with Annie to turn her attention to the stunning ex-wife of the man she’d slept with the night before. Not that she was thinking about that. She was too busy being professional.
“Joelle Baker.” She stepped forward and extended her hand towards Chelsea. “Annie and I are going to have an awesome time together. I have excellent references. I’d be happy to send them to your assistant if you’d like.”
Chelsea shook Jo’s hand as she eyed her, assessing.
Jo could practically hear the litany of objections running through her head as she took in Jo’s leggings and cropped t-shirt, the thin purple zip-up she’d thrown on at the last minute.
Jo hadn’t had time to fix her makeup properly, not the way she would have liked to, and what she’d managed to do in the car wasn’t good enough for this kind of scrutiny.
Without the armor of her eyeliner and contour, she might as well have been naked.
To her credit, Chelsea kept any criticism to herself.
“I’m sure Derek has done his due diligence,” she said, shooting him a meaningful glance. Then, pulling their daughter into a hug, “Have so much fun this week. Call me every night and take lots of pictures to show me, okay?”
Annie and Derek said their goodbyes and they all made it through security with minimal frustration once the TSA agent realized the oddly shaped metal object in Annie’s backpack was a mini metal detector.
If they hadn’t been sure which gate was theirs, the crowd of women in their thirties jostling for position around Jackson, Zach, and Nico would have given it away.
At the edge of the mob, Logan and Beckett were deep in conversation with a group of fans, one of whom clutched a copy of the same romance novel by AK Wild that Beckett was holding.
Jo focused her phone on the interaction, zooming in and snapping a quick shot of the boys animatedly discussing dragon shifters with their fans.
She added a gif of a dragon flying across the image before posting it, tagging the band and the author.
“Did you—” Derek broke off, pointing between the band and Jo’s phone.
Jo shrugged. “Logan and Beckett asked me to post some of my pictures after their first show at the Bay Breeze. I’ve been doing it ever since.”
“You have?”
“Someone has to post authentic content. Have you seen their official pages? It’s all staged photos and overly designed graphics.”
“As opposed to...”
"Literally anything else. The trick is to make it feel like your followers have unfiltered access. And these guys don’t need an hour in hair and makeup.
With a few filters,” she said as she tapped on her phone, flipping the screen around so he could see, “you can have airbrushed perfection and the bedhead look all in one delicious package.” She sighed, glancing at the image before darkening her screen and tucking her phone back into her purse.
“What I wouldn’t give for Nico’s flawless skin. ”
Derek looked like he wanted to say something, but Annie pulled his attention away from whatever concerns he had about Jo’s social media posts and the band’s impromptu book club. “Daddy, why is Jackson writing on that lady’s belly?”
“That’s a good question,” he said. At the other side of the crowd, Jackson was indeed signing a woman’s stomach along the waistband of her jeans. “Jackson,” he barked.
The pop star bolted upright. “Just greeting the fans, bossman.”
“Is that Princess Annie?” Nico called out with a wide grin. He made his way around the group of fans to scoop Annie up and spin her around. “Are you coming with us to California?”
Annie nodded earnestly. “And this time I’m going to kick your butt in Mario Kart. I’ve been practicing my skid turns.”
“Looks like she’s not the only one joining us,” Jackson said with a knowing grin. “Hey, JoJo. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Didn’t expect to be here,” Jo said.
“Well, now it’s a party.” Jackson capped his marker and stuck it in the back pocket of his jeans before slinging an arm over her shoulder.
“We are going to have so much fun. Hotel Bellwether is one of the best spots on the West Coast. Legend has it there’s no better place to fall in love. ” He winked.
Jo laughed and poked him in the ribs. “And love is what you’re after, is it?”
Jackson’s grin widened. “Always, JoJo. You’ll see. There’s this little club not far from the hotel—you’ll love it. The girls don’t just dance on the bar. They—”
“Jo, why don’t you and Annie go grab us some hot chocolate for the plane?
” Derek interrupted, retrieving his wallet from his pants pocket, never taking his eyes off Jackson’s smug expression.
Jo rolled her eyes and shrugged off Jackson’s arm.
The last thing she wanted was to be in the middle of a pissing match between Derek and Jackson.
“With whipped cream?” Annie asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“With whipped cream,” Derek confirmed.
Jo clasped Annie’s hand, accepted Derek’s shiny black credit card, and led her young charge to the Dunkin’ kiosk across from their gate.
She didn’t need to hear their conversation to know Derek was giving Jackson a piece of his mind, probably issuing all kinds of warnings if their interaction at the bar the night before was any indication.
Not my circus. Not my monkeys.
“Are you excited to go to California?” Jo asked Annie as they waited in line for their hot chocolates.
“I’m excited to see the gold beach. I’ve never seen a gold beach before.”
“Me either. Do you like the beach?”
“Who doesn’t like the beach?” Annie’s eyes narrowed. “There aren’t any sharks at this beach, are there?”
“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of thing they have to tell you in advance.”
“Good. I do not like sharks. That’s why Daddy always sprays me with the magic shark-away spray.”
Jo bit back a smile. “I can’t say I’m familiar with magic shark-away spray.”
“It’s a Daddy thing,” Annie said as though that explained everything.
They ordered their drinks—extra whipped cream for Annie and Jo, and a mocha latte for Derek—and were about to rejoin their traveling companions when Annie stopped Jo with a hand on her arm. “You know there’s no such thing as magic shark-away spray, right?” she asked, concern wrinkling her forehead.
“I suspected as much.”
“It’s the purple glitter sunscreen. The kind in a can you spray on. But don’t tell Daddy I know. I don’t want him to buy the boring white sunscreen with no sparkles.”
Jo pretended to turn a key between her lips. “Your secret is safe with me. Only one question. Can I also use the purple glitter sunscreen?”
Annie giggled. “Yes, but you have to call it magic shark-away spray.”
“I wouldn’t dream of calling it anything else.”
“Do you think Daddy will come to the beach with us?”
“I don’t know.” Jo studied Annie, the carefully blank expression on her face, eyes focused on the lid of her hot chocolate. “I think he’s going to be pretty busy.”
Annie sighed. “Yeah. I thought so.”
“Do you have a lot of babysitters when you’re with your dad?”
“Only when he has to work. But sometimes I go with him and Nico watches cartoons with me when he’s not busy recording.”
“I know I’m not as cool as Nico, but do you think you’ll be alright hanging with me for the next few days while your dad works?”
Annie eyed her up and down, seriously mulling over her decision. “Will you make me eat my vegetables?”
“Not if you don’t make me eat mine.”
She smiled. “Deal.”