Like his brothers, Jace has a truck. He opens my door and helps me in. “It’s so tidy in here,” I note as I pull on my seatbelt.
He chuckles as he starts the engine. “I cleaned it this afternoon. Didn’t want you to think I was a slob.”
I know he’s a secret slob sometimes, and it doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. As we head down the gravel driveway, I glance at him. “Are you going to give me a clue where we’re going?”
“Nope.” He laces our fingers together, and my heart beats faster.
I expect him to head downtown, but we drive in the opposite direction. I’ve lived in Wild Heart for a while, but I haven’t done much exploring. Then he turns off the main road and we head into the hills.
I roll down the window, loving the thick scent of cedar that fills the air. It’s earthy and warm, and it reminds me of sun-soaked fields.
We crest a hill, and ahead of us, the sun sets on the horizon in an explosion of orange, purple, and pink.
“That’s beautiful.” I sigh at how good it feels to be away from the chaos of the tour. As much as I love the music, it’s always so loud. Even the bus has a constant hum of tires or the engine purring in the background.
I like the silence of a quiet night. Nothing but crickets and frogs and the wind.
We drive along the one-lane road for a few minutes until we reach a small ridge that overlooks the whole town, and behind it, the waning sunset. Jace parks his truck and turns to me. “I used to come here a lot when I was younger.”
“With girls?” I arch my brow, and he chuckles.
“No. With my brothers. Sometimes I’d come by myself to think or practice my guitar. I’m self-taught, so I didn’t want anyone to hear me make mistakes.”
“That’s really cool.” I soak in the majestic view. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“It gets better. Hang tight.” He pulls out of the spot, reverses, pulls back in, and shuts off the engine. He tilts his head toward the door. “Come on.” We get out and move around to the back of his truck that’s now facing the horizon. He lowers the bed, and there are blankets and pillows and an ice chest. “Thought we could have a picnic out here.” He hops on the back and sets out the blankets and a few pillows. “And the stars should be really clear tonight.”
“This is so sweet, Jace.”
Hopping down, he pulls me into his arms. “You’re really sweet, Aurora.” When he grazes his lips across mine, my heart goes pitter-patter. I love when he calls me by my full name. “I wanted to do something special to show you how grateful I am you came on this tour. You’ve helped me in ways I don’t even know how to spell out. You saved my ass when you didn’t even like me.”
Trying to bite back my smile, I rest my hand on his broad chest. “Well, I like you now. More or less,” I tease.
He shoots me that flirty, crooked grin. “Finally.”
“I mean, you haven’t written me any songs, so I’m going to hold out on my final judgment.” I’m joking. Mostly. He played me those few lines from a new song several weeks ago, but nothing since then, and I’m not even sure that song was meant for me.
Pulling me closer, he nibbles my neck. “Funny you should mention that.” He walks me backwards a few steps, grips my hips, and lifts me onto the truck bed. He hops up next to me, reaches back behind the blankets, and pulls out his guitar case. “I wanted you to be the first to hear this. Full warning, it could suck. I can’t tell if a song is good or not. If it’s terrible, I’m sorry. I tried.”
Ugh, he’s killing me. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”
“I’ve written three new songs, but this one is my favorite.” He settles next to me with his guitar, our legs hanging off the back with that stunning horizon before us. He starts strumming, and I close my eyes so I can really listen. It’s that melody he played for me on the bus. A ballad. His voice sends chills down my arms.
She says she ain’t a heartbreaker,
but she’s got that secret smile
The one that keeps me up at night,
thinking we could be worthwhile
Never thought I’d want another chance,
Never thought I’d want that ride
But she’s got my head spinning
Watching our worlds collide
