“I can get it,” Jace volunteered. “If you’re worried he’ll steal the pie.”
She spun to find Travis about to do just that. “Dammit, Travis.”
He laughed.
“Thanks, Jace. You’ll get an extra big slice.” She glared at her brother. “The treats are in the pantry.”
“On it.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw him walk across the kitchen floor. Bare feet. And pajama pants sliding even lower on his hips. Low enough to make her hold her breath as he bent to get Clem’s treat jar.
Really? Was she really that hard up? Had it been so long that one look at a well-muscled back and sculpted ass turned her into a pile of quivering goo? Apparently.
She sliced into the pie, cutting two large pieces and placing them on plates. The last piece was small. Like sliver small. She held the plate out for her brother.
“Krystal,” he moaned. “Come on, now.”
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“He wanted pie.” Travis pointed at Jace. “Hospitality and all that.”
Her gaze bounced to Mr. Temptation, looking even more damn adorable crouching down to give Clementine her treat. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one suffering from this bizarre Jace Black fascination. Clem seemed downright smitten. “And?” There was more to it; she knew her brother too well to believe this was purely about pie.
“Emmy Lou said something about you humming?” Travis said, serving himself a bigger slice and putting the plate in the microwave.
She and Emmy might be twins, but the three of them rarely kept things from each other. Growing up on the road and in the spotlight had strengthened their connection, siblings and best friends. But there were times, like now, when that was inconvenient. “I do that. Hum, I mean.”
“When you’ve got a new song rolling around up there.” He poked her head, pulling his plate from the microwave. A scoop of ice cream and mound of whipped cream was added to the pie. “Here.” He held it out for Jace. “And you were baking. Baking? Humming? New song.”
Jace stood, listening with interest. “Thanks.” He took the plate and sat on a nearby stool.
“Look at you, using your manners,” Krystal teased.
“Look at you, dodging the question,” Travis said, putting another plate in the microwave. “Since you’re not talking, it must be something good.”
“Maybe she’s not ready to talk about it?” Jace eyed his pie, fork hovering. “Sometimes, things need to…roll around a bit? Before they come together.”
Exactly. Wait. “You write songs?” This was news to her.
He winced, then shrugged. “Hard to say I write anything when I’m sitting here with you. But I try.” He took a massive bite, moaning with appreciation. “This is the best pie I’ve ever had. Ever. My grandma’s probably rolling over in her grave to hear me say it, but it’s true.”
“I told you it was even better the second time around,” Travis said around a mouthful.
She was still mulling over the latest pro on the Jace Black pros and cons list. It was getting to be a little too pro-heavy for her. That in itself triggered warning bells. Life had shown her time and again that, when it came to people, the only thing to count on was disappointment. Anytime now, Jace Black was going to let his true colors come shining through. And when that happened, she’d be ready. “Will you be singing your songs when you open for us?”
He nodded, swallowing. “A couple. The record label
has set me up with a few, too.” He shrugged. “That takes some getting used to—singing what you’re told to sing versus what you want to sing.”
Travis paused. “Hell, I’m always singing what I’m told to sing. Singing what I want to sing? What’s that?” He winked at her.
She stuck her tongue out before turning back to Jace. “I get the impression Wheelhouse is willing to invest a lot of time and money into your career. Meaning they’re going to give you songs that will put you on the charts.” With her fork, she speared some cinnamon-covered apple. “Once you get on the charts a few times, you’ll have more say-so in your song choices.”
He stood, carrying his plate around the island and rinsing it in the sink. “People keep talking about careers and charts and tours. I’m still waking up at four for work. In the oilfields.” He put his plate in the dishwasher and leaned back against the counter, his tight shirt and bedhead hair on display.
“You miss it?” Travis asked, shoveling in a last, massive bite.
Jace chuckled, running a hand along the back of his neck. He grinned, almost embarrassed as their eyes met. “Miss it? Hell no. But knowing I could go from this back to that—”