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He sets his board down. “Yeah, Dad told me about Jack and how they met backstage at one of Dad’s old shows. He’s working as a studio tech right now?”
“He is going to be taking over as producer.” I’m so proud of him being able to make his dream come true.
“He must know my brother then?” Navarone asks, as we make our way toward the house.
I met Sterling the week before when he was working on a new song in Dad’s studio. “Yes, I met him too. He’s the opposite of you though,” I blurt out, before biting on my bottom lip.
He laughs, and I feel it in every nerve in my body. “I guess so. His long hair and beard give him some serious redneck, hillbilly vibes,” he drawls and winks, cocking his head. “We’re both stubborn to a fault though,” he says, stretching one arm above his head.
I nod, the way his muscles bulge leaves me tongue tied. Man, he looks strong. We are only a couple of years apart, but it’s a lifetime for me. We continue our way to one of the big garages. I try to think of things to ask him but every time I open my mouth to say something, I close it again. I fall a couple steps behind him, my heart beats out of my chest with each step I take, and I try not to stare at his broad shoulders. He scratches his stubble, and the butterflies in my stomach start to flutter.
Navarone sets the board down in the corner of the garage. I hold the towel against my chest, suddenly shy he’s seen me in my bikini.
“You okay?” he asks, trying to hide his grin, brushing a hand through his dark hair.
“Sure. I’m going to take a shower,” I squeak, darting out of the garage.
“Thanks for the visual Alice,” he drawls, winking at me before I stumble down the steps with my heart racing in my chest.
Later we all have dinner, sitting at a big table on the porch while the waves crash on the beach not far from us. The stories during the meal are unbelievable. I have never laughed so much in my life. The one-liners have me rolling on the floor clutching my stomach while Dad tries to cover my ears with his hands, shouting for everyone to shut up with the embarrassing trips down Memory Lane.
Afterwards, the boys help clear the table. Every now and then I catch Navarone stealing a look at me, but I’m too shy to hold his stare. I don’t know how to talk to boys except my brothers and my best guy friends.
After a while, Dad shoos me away and tells me to enjoy the beach. “Go watch the stars come out, honey,” he says, pushing me toward the door. My brothers have migrated to the porch, still mucking around with Jesse.
I don’t see Navarone until my feet touch the sand. He is staring out to the ocean, smoking a cigarette. I’m not sure what to do—turn around?
“Hey, Navarone,” I say, stopping next to him, my voice small.
He smiles, blowing out the smoke and stamping his cigarette in the sand, before picking the stump up and putting it back in the pack. “Sorry,” he drawls, pointing with his chin to the porch where both my brothers are still hanging out, watching us. “You can call me Rone, by the way. Navarone is kind of a mouthful.” His smile is cocky. And sure enough, my cheeks burn again. What is it with him?
“Rone,” I repeat, loving the way his name sounds.
“Dad doesn’t want me smoking on the porch. Double standard, with what he inhales.” He nudges me, winking.
“I came here to look at the stars,” I say, my voice shaking. Nerd alert. I focus on my toes disappearing in the sand, but all I really want is to stick my head in it.
“You came to the right place,” he says, pointing upwards.
I follow his movement and take in the vastness. “Wow,” I whisper, eying the path of the stars. There aren’t many lights around and only a couple of houses scattered along the coast.
“Want to stay here a while?” he asks, taking a seat in the sand.
“Sure,” I say, sitting next to him, trying to pull my skirt over my legs. But it is no use; it’s too short. Following my every move, he swallows looking at my bare thighs. I catch him staring and he gazes up at the sky again. That brings a big fat smile onto my face.
“Are you enjoying it here?” Is his voice a little hoarse, or is it my imagination?
I nod. “This is the first vacation I’ve ever had.” I bite on my lip. Why am I telling him that? He has traveled around the world with his father, seen things I’ve only dreamed of.
“Really?” he asks, not a hint of disappointment in his voice.
“If you count Los Angeles, Nashville, and New York when I was little, then this is the fourth new place I’ve ever visited.”
“You live in Nashville, right?”
“Born in LA and moved to Nashville when I was three, hence the drawl.”
He grins. “Why did you move?”
