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Armed with her dog and her coffee, Krystal dug deep for the sass she needed to survive. “Pardon me if I don’t shower them with sympathy.” She squeezed into a chair with Emmy and did her best not to look at anyone else in the room.
Not Travis or Emmy or Jace. Especially not Jace. Even though she could see him from the corner of her eye, even though he was staring at her.
“What’s the plan for ACMF, Daddy?” Emmy was the only one who seemed excited.
He clapped his hands together, smiling broadly. “They want the three of you to host the awards show. And they want Krystal and Jace to sing the new single.”
“Dad,” Travis moaned.
“I’m with your sister on this one, Son. I don’t take kindly to paying for damages to hotel rooms.” Her father wasn’t happy. “You’re a King, boy. I need you to remember that before you pull something else like this, you hear me?”
Krystal glanced at her brother. There was a green cast to his skin, his lips dry and pale. “You look like crap.”
“You’re not exactly little Miss Sunshine yourself this morning.” Travis shot her a look. “What the hell was last night about?”
She sipped her coffee. “Last night I was taking migraine meds while, apparently, you were trashing a hotel room.”
“I broke a table. I—we—fell into one.” Travis glanced at Jace. “Sorry, man.”
Jace nodded.
Of course Travis would be the one to take Jace out partying. Drinking. Breaking shit. Picking up women. Maybe the whole “Gentleman Jace” moniker wasn’t going to stick after all.
“You were the one yelling at Jace in the middle of the night,” Travis continued.
Yelled. Slammed the door. Loud enough for everyone to hear. She’d acted like a fool. For what? She looked at Jace then.
His light brown gaze was waiting.
All the hurt and anger and frustration she’d been drowning in since three forty-five this morning threatened to rear its ugly head again. Since she didn’t relish the idea of getting upset—worse, crying—she decided retreat was the best option. “I’m not really a hundred percent, so y’all work out the details and let me know, okay?” She stood, pressing a kiss to her father’s cheek. “This is super exciting, Daddy. Really. Thank you.”
He hugged her close and whispered, “Whatever this is, I need you to work it out. The only way to do that is to talk to each other.”
“Talking won’t fix this, Daddy. But I’ll try. I promise, I’ll try to let it go.”
* * *
Jace shook hands with Guy James and sat in the chair opposite the iconic desk for the late-night talk show. He had never felt more out of his element—hopefully it wouldn’t be too obvious.
“Good to have you here, Jace.” Guy smiled. “Once it was announced that you’d be joining us, we sold out. I’m pretty sure we have an all-female audience tonight.”
The screams from the audience made Jace shift uneasily in his chair, but he chuckled anyway.
Guy shielded his eyes. “Wait, there’s one man, way up there. Hello, sir.”
Jace looked out over the audience. There were plenty of men, but he let it go. Guy James was about the laughs.
“Congratulations on the single,” Guy said, glancing at one of the cards before him on his desk. “First song and it’s expected to climb the charts when it releases officially.”
“Thank you.” He nodded at the applause from the audience. “I’m not sure any of this is real. Not a day goes by that I don’t wake up expecting to be back in the oilfields.”
Guy nodded. “Big change?”
Jace laughed. “Yes, sir. But I’m not complaining.”
“No, I imagine not.” He paused. “Your duet, with Krystal King. Tell us about that.”
Jace took a sip from the coffee mug on the desk. He’d expected questions about her. She was far more interesting than he was. If anything, this was his chance to set the record straight on a few things—like who Krystal King really was.
