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“I missed you,” I say to them. “I’ve missed you all so much.”
“You don’t have to miss us anymore,” Honey says gently.
“You’re probably going to wish you missed us after a few months of living with us,” Dani says, her tone joking.
“Never.” I really mean it.
We have to get out of the way to make room for the other bands back stage. We carry our instruments out to a van Grant borrowed from a buddy, and load them up.
There’s a patio with picnic tables and fairy lights decorating a pergola, so we sit to get away from the noise and the crowds inside.
“You’re all sweaty,” Clover says. “Did you run here?”
“She did.” Sadie walks over, Noah at her side. My bass is nowhere in sight, but I’m not worried. Noah will have made sure it got into the van. Sadie smiles at me. “I can’t believe you never told me you can play like that.”
“I don’t think I knew I could.”
“Wasn’t it amazing?” Honey asks, her face alight. “We should do it more often. I bet we can set up some gigs at the restaurants and bars in town, maybe even in the next town or county.”
“I think we might need more practice first,” I say.
“I thought you all sounded amazing.” Sadie gives me a look I can read all too well.
“I’m sorry. Y’all, this is my best friend and colleague at Tenth Avenue Books, Sadie. Sadie, these are my sisters, Clover, Dani, Honey, Goldy, and Clover’s boyfriend, Asher.”
My sisters all say how nice it is to meet her and grill her for stories about me. There aren’t many, since all I ever did in the city was work my ass off.
Noah pulls me out of my seat and takes it, before pulling me back onto his lap and wrapping his arms around me, his chest against my back. I lace my fingers through his and hold him to me. I’m never letting this man go.
Soon, most everyone heads inside to see the other bands, but I stop Goldy before she gets up from the picnic table.
“I read your books.”
Her eyes go wide and the tips of her ears, which her white-blonde hair is tucked behind, turn pink. “All of them?”
“I couldn’t stop. You’re incredibly talented.”
The pink spreads from her ears to her cheeks. “They’re really explicit and you hate romance. You said once that sex on the page in books is more gratuitous than porn.”
I drop my face into my hands and groan. “I can’t believe I said that.” I look up at her, my own cheeks heating. “I’m so sorry. I was a total snob. I didn’t even read any before judging the entire genre. I’ve read romance now and I love it. I love your books.”
A smile flirts with her lips. “You do?”
“I really do. I will never again judge something without trying it first. I’m sorry I was such a hater of romance that you didn’t think you could come to me to publish with Tenth Avenue Books.”
She scrunches up her nose. “I’m way too much of a control freak to work with a publisher.” She shrugs. “I didn’t tellanyoneI write erotica before this spring. I was embarrassed.”
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You are an amazing writer.”
She finally smiles. “You really think so?”
“I don’t blow smoke, Goldy. I really think so.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
“And if you want to publish with Lovemore, I’m sure we could—”
She holds up a hand. “I appreciate that, but I’m happy with what I’m doing. If that changes, you’ll be the first to know, but I’m not sure that…” She folds her hands carefully in her lap. “I can be a touch sensitive about criticism of my writing. I have developed a thicker skin, but I still usually need a day or two to let a critique sink in before I can accept it graciously and if a sibling were to be the one offering said criticism, I’m not sure I wouldn’t…” She looks away, clearly trying to come up with the right word.
