Jace (Kings of Country 1)

Emmy nudged her. “I do.” Emmy wor

e her heart on her sleeve—and her face. Every single one of her thoughts and emotions were on display for her fans, friends, or family members to see, manipulate, or dissect as they saw fit. That was one of the reasons the world loved her—Emmy’s sweetness and lack of guile was irresistible.

All reasons why Krystal was so protective of her.

Apparently, she wasn’t alone when it came to worrying about her sibling. Emmy Lou was wearing her “concerned” face, her blue-green eyes studying her a little too closely—a mix of sympathy and anxiety.

“Don’t give me that look,” Krystal sighed. “I’m fine.”

“I’m not giving you any look.” Emmy Lou’s brow wrinkled. “Fine isn’t good. I want you to be good. I worry—”

“Well, stop it,” she interrupted. “I don’t want you to worry. Least of all over me.” She grinned. “Besides, it’ll give you wrinkles. Momma would have a fit if you gave yourself wrinkles over me.” And she’d likely blame her, too.

Emmy Lou shook her head, but she was smiling.

They worked alongside each other, the large state-of-the-art kitchen warming from the dual stoves working overtime. While Krystal knocked out another verse for her new song, Emmy Lou continued to hum the new melody. By the time dinner was done and the smell of cinnamon and apples flooded the house, Krystal was ready to pluck out the song on her favorite guitar, play around with chords, and find just the right words.

“Add another place,” Emmy said, carrying another plate and silverware into the dining room.

“Who’s coming?” she asked. With Daddy, there was always one more.

“Momma’s meeting wrapped up.” Emmy glanced her way. “She’ll be home in time for dinner.”

Now she was doubly glad she hadn’t made one of her signature desserts. If she had, she’d be putting a target square on Jace’s back. Her momma was all charm and grace when it came to useful people. Considering he’d unintentionally blocked her attempt to get Mickey on the road as their opening act, Jace Black had a strike against him. Another strike for singing the duet with her—not Emmy. One more strike, and Jace Black would officially be on CiCi King’s blacklist. And that was one thing she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy.

“You can’t be nice to him,” Emmy Lou said.

She nodded. If she liked him, her mother would eat him alive.

“You can’t be mean to him, either,” Emmy Lou added.

Because if she didn’t like him, her mother would become Jace’s biggest fan.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked, frowning as Clementine circled her. “Ignore him? Fake a headache?” Maybe that was the best option.

But the front door opened, followed by the sound of boots on marble. And the clickety-click of her momma’s designer heels.

* * *

By now, Jace should be used to feeling out of place. Almost like he’d snuck into a party and now he had no choice but to pretend he’d been invited or he’d get his ass kicked to the curb. He was standing in Hank King’s house, talking about Hank’s favorite Texas football team and their chances at the playoffs in what could only be described as a man cave.

Out of place? More like on another planet.

Framed concert posters. A few encased guitars signed by some of country music’s greatest talents. As if that wasn’t enough, Hank’s impressive display of platinum, gold, and silver albums covered an entire wall of the room.

They sat on overstuffed leather couches, a massive television screen opposite them—on but muted. In the far corner was a wet bar. Travis was there, pulling longnecks from the refrigerator.

“Their preseason stats are looking pretty good,” Hank said. “We got so damn close last year.”

“Momma was sure you were going to have a heart attack,” Travis laughed, handing them each a beer.

Jace took the beer and grinned. When you lived in Texas, football was part of your DNA. And the Houston Roughnecks were the favored team. Last year, he’d screamed and cussed through most of the Championship Bowl, too. “Terrible ref. Bad call.”

Hank nodded, slapping his thigh. “Damn right.”

“Don’t get him started.” Travis chuckled. “How’d it go? Singing with my sister?”

Hank shook his head. “I’d seen some of the clips from your show, so I knew you could sing, and today you didn’t disappoint.”