Rockstar Baby (Crescent Cove 6)

“No, a showing. I’m pretty much ready to barf on a daily basis and only half the time it’s because of the spawn. It’s my second showing and I really don’t want to be a one-hit wonder.”

“Wow.”

Zoe shrugged. “It’s scary as hell, exhilarating, and insane. And I’m also unbearable before a show. Ian’s a fucking saint.”

I glanced back at the stage where Ian was plucking strings on Rory’s guitar. “Are you sure he’s not a two-year-old?”

She followed my gaze. “Well, he’s that too, I swear.” She shook her head, but the smile on her face was definitely indulgent. “But he’s also amazing and so supportive. And he misses Rory. They became really good friends while writing his album. But then Rory was onto his next project.”

“What does he do?”

“I’m not sure how to describe it.” Zoe laughed. “Jack of all trades kind of dude.”

Maggie leaned forward. “He’s like a music doctor of sorts. Writes, produces, rips apart—and does some playing. It’s more that he knows the ins and outs of songs. Kel is soaking it all up and talking about him constantly. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if he was in love with him.”

“About Rory?”

“Yeah, he’s a little standoffish sometimes, but then he gets like that.” Maggie nodded at the stage.

The three of them were sitting a circle, completely oblivious to us. Each of them was trying to play over the others to put their own spin on the song. Not in a one-upmanship kind of way, but more of an excited brainstorming style.

Like the way I got with an ice cream recipe. I recognized the signs.

Rory was passionate.

Intense.

Fascinating.

Just watching him in his element was intoxicating. This whole day had been so far. I felt as if I was discovering yet another intriguing side to him—and there were already so many.

So, how the hell was I going to get over him when he left?

Fourteen

Supper at Happy Acres was an experience. I still wasn’t sure if it was a good one or bad.

Much like the day itself.

I had to give Ivy a lot of credit. She’d rolled with the rockstar hits all day long and had scarcely blinked. For someone who hadn’t guessed what my career was, she’d adapted remarkably well. She’d barely squealed or fangirled at all. Except for her rightful indignation at my omissions, she’d been cool about everything. So much so that it was hard not to feel like a moron for thinking she couldn’t handle our differences.

And she hadn’t swooned at the sight of either Ian or Kellan, who, let’s face it, were easy on the eyes. Or so I’d been told. I couldn’t claim to fancy them myself.

We’d definitely worked up an appetite. Handy, since the folks at Happy Acres ate early. And they ate a lot. The huge farmhouse table was weighed down with enough plates and dishes to feed a small country. Which was saying plenty since Ian alone could clear half the bowls without help.

“I’m eating for three.”

“Three?” I nearly choked on my slab of apple-peach pie. It wasn’t a piece. I swore Laverne, the proprietress of Happy Acres, had served me roughly a quarter of it. “Zoe, you didn’t let him plant twins in you.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “No. There’s just one, although he’s roly-poly. But Ian likes to claim he’s eating for all three of us.”

Laverne patted Ian’s shoulder as he sprayed whipped cream on his second piece of pie. “He’s a growing boy. We love feeding him here.”

“Glad you do, since our grocery bill can barely handle him.” Zoe shook her head.

“The baby is a boy?” I don’t know why the question stuck in my throat. Or how I’d missed that information.

Ian rolled his eyes. “I already told you. Probably five times. He does not listen. Ivy, I hope you have patience with this one. He lives in his head and doesn’t invite guests.”