Steve slapped his forehead. “Not rude. Roux. Rooooooooo.”
Roux grinned and squeezed Pops’s arm above his elbow. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “What are you working on here?” She extended a hand toward the ancient silver tractor with its unique three-wheel design.
Pops’s eyes brightened. “You like my tractor?”
“Sure,” Roux said, stepping closer to the rusty contraption.
“This here is a 1940 Silver King. I salvaged her from an abandoned barn down by Rolla.”
“That’s in southern Missouri,” Steve explained, doubting that an East Coast resident would have ever heard of the small city.
“I will not put it out of its misery,” Pops retorted. “I’ll have her running in no time.”
Roux pressed her tongue to her upper lip, her cheeks tight with suppressed laughter. She listened intently to Pops as he explained everything about his current project and held up various spare parts—most rusty—while he tried to remember which junkyard he’d found them in.
“Got this one on eBay,” he said, proudly holding up an ordinary-looking bolt.
“Oh, I know all about eBay,” Roux said. “I have a slight obsession with collecting coin purses.”
“Yeah, I don’t like paying shipping fees either. Lots of coin. You got that right.”
Steve sometimes wished he could be in on the conversation that Pops heard, but he loved the old guy so much, he didn’t bother to frustrate him by correcting him again. And Roux seemed slightly amused but not annoyed by the lack of communication. Steve was already glad he’d brought her.
“Go check out my Minneapolis Moline,” Pops said, waving toward the fully restored tractor along the far wall. Its red wheels and yellow body brightened up the dingy space. “Steven helped me rebuild that one before he ran off to California. It’s still my favorite.”
Pops slapped Steve on the back, and Steve knew the reason that tractor was his favorite was because the two of them had bonded while restoring it. Most thirteen-year-old boys don’t spend their free time tinkering with old tractors in their grandfather’s garage. And that was a damn shame.
Pops gave Roux a complete rundown on the restoration process, telling her countless embarrassing stories about Steve, which didn’t bother him, because they made her laugh. Anything that made her happy was cool by Steve. He couldn’t help but compare this visit to the few times Bianca had been willing to come with him. She’d spent the entire trip with her nose in the air and a stick up her ass. At the time, he’d made excuses for her behavior because he’d been blinded with love. How could he have been so stupid? He wasn’t that fool anymore, he told himself. He wouldn’t let emotion cloud his common sense ever again.
Realizing that time was getting away from them, and he still had a few things he wanted Roux to see before they headed to his favorite little island off the coast of Central America, Steve approached Roux from behind and placed a hand on her lower back.
“We should head to the house. I have something important to show you.”
“Do I get to meet your grandmother?”
The eagerness in her expression caused a lump to form in his throat.
“Sort of. Mams passed away several years ago.”
Roux’s face fell, and she took Steve’s hand and even squeezed Pops’s forearm. ”I’m so sorry to hear that. She must have been quite a woman to put up with this guy.”
She winked at Pops, who flushed and then howled with laughter.
“We’re going to the house, Pops. Are you coming?”
“I like your new wife a lot better than that stuck-up bitch from California.”
Roux bit her lip, and turned her face away, but not before Steve saw the mirth trying to escape her.
“We’re not married,” Steve said. He doubted he’d ever take a chance at that again. He’d learned his lesson with the stuck-up bitch from California.
“Yet,” Pops said with an ornery twinkle in his eye.
Steve took Roux’s hand and helped her navigate a pile of discarded tractor parts. They ducked under a low-hanging, partially open garage door and stepped out into the sunshine. The bright rays made Roux’s hair shimmer like fire. The woman was stunning. He had to take a deep breath to keep himself walking forward when every instinct told him to go completely still and just watch her move.
“Does he live here alone?” she asked quietly. “I’m worried about him being out here by himself.”
“He’s too damned stubborn to move to town. My folks live down the road about half a mile. And my sister checks on him a couple of times a day.”
“You have a sister?”
Those gold-rimmed green eyes of hers lit up again. Either she was going to have to stop doing that or he was going to have to start taking medication for an irregular heartbeat.
“She’s a pain in the ass,” he said with a chuckle. “But I’m sure you know that about sisters even more than I do.”
“I’m always looking for more sisters, and now that I’m your wife, I get to add one more to my collection.”
He knew she was teasing, but there suddenly wasn’t enough oxygen to refill his lungs, and he choked.
“Too soon for wife jokes?” she asked, and a part of him didn’t want it to be a joke. The stupid part of him that he quickly smashed down deep into the pit of his stomach.
“Yeah, well. You know my track record with wives. Ex-wives; two: Steve; zero.”
Roux’s eyes widened. “Two?”
“You don’t read that in the tabloids?”
She shook her head.
“I lost a bet in Vegas. Ended with an annulment.”
“Always a chance to win with the next one,” Pops commented.
Steve glanced over his shoulder, wondering how the mostly deaf codger had managed to hear any of their conversation, especially when their backs were to him. Maybe he just pretended to be deaf as a form of personal entertainment. Steve wouldn’t put it past the guy.
“What do you do for a living, Roux?” Pops asked, situating himself on her opposite side as they continued toward the house. “Besides being an absolute sweetheart.”
“I work at an animal shelter,” she said.
Steve smiled. Of course she did.
“Well, I used to,” she added. “I had to quit a few weeks ago. Now, I guess, I’m a musician.”
“Nothing wrong with being a beautician,” Pops said.
Steve didn’t bother to correct him. Because if Steve got his way, Pops would soon learn about her talent for himself. Steve had been listening to Baroquen’s music a lot over the past couple of weeks. Late at night, he’d lie in his tour bus bunk with his earbuds linking him to Roux, because all he heard when he listened was her amazing keyboard work and her sultry background vocals. And yeah, he was sort of a fanboy, not that he’d admit it to her.
“Have you eaten?” Pops asked. “I could go for one of your omelets right about now, Steven.” He rubbed his belly.
Roux raised an eyebrow. “You cook?”
“A little.” He actually enjoyed cooking. Another thing he wouldn’t be admitting. His notorious rock star reputation couldn’t take many more hits.
“I figured you’d have servants for that kind of thing.”
“You’re thinking of Dare,” he said with a twisted grin. “Dude has a damned butler, believe it or not.” He knew he was intentionally directing her attention from himself, but bringing her here had made him feel more vulnerable than he’d anticipated. She was sure to find a reason to brush him off at any moment. And he didn’t mean she’d brush off the guy in the mask that he showed the world. She’d be rejecting the real him.
“Dare has a butler?”
“Dare’s from Beverly Hills. Rich boy, born and bred.”
“Well, he’s not stuck-up at all. He’s awesome.”
And now that she was defending his friend, Steve wished he hadn’t brought Dare up. It was never a good idea to try to make himself look better by comparison to Dare. What the fuck was he
thinking?
“About that omelet . . .” Pops said loudly.
“All right, Pops.” Steve slapped him on the back. “You got eggs?”
“You know where the coop is. Best grab some veggies from the garden as well. My fridge is pretty bare.”
Roux squirmed with excitement. “You have chickens? And a vegetable garden?”
“Over yonder.” Pops pointed toward the old barn they’d passed earlier.
She was half jogging as they altered their course. Pops stopped and waved them forward. “I need to let the dogs out,” he said.