“We should be thanking her,” Jolene said, sitting back up, her heart racing. That had been a mistake, because anger was easy enough to deal with, whereas tenderness was not. So much for sticking to her guns. Now she felt a horrible stirring of affection for Chance, which was the last thing she should be feeling. “You ready to go back? I’m hungry, too.”
She expected Chance to say something about where that kiss might have been heading or call her out on doing a one-eighty, but he didn’t. He just stood up and held his hand out to her. She took it and he hauled her to her feet. Their hands slipped apart and her heart squeezed a little. She’d been expecting to be pissed off the majority of this trip, but she was feeling ridiculously sentimental. It was worrisome. Wasn’t she too young to want to stroll down memory lane and get as mushy as a marshmallow over a man who drove her nuts?
Yet she felt the urge to make Chance a sandwich and brush his hair back off his face. Which made her a complete lunatic. This was his fault for looking so damn cute and sexy with no shirt on.
“Yes, let’s eat,” he said. “And I want to shower the pond water off me.”
“I must look downright scary,” she said, touching her frizzy hair. She bent over to pick up her sundress. When she stood up again, she caught Chance looking at her ass.
“You look pretty damn good to me.”
“Pervert,” she said automatically, even though his words actually pleased her. She was feeling a bit insecure about her love affair with cheesy grits and what it had done to her hips and backside. The bigger breasts weren’t a bad thing, but unfortunately, unless you used a surgeon, if you gained weight in your chest, you gained weight everywhere—and she certainly had. Personally, she kind of liked being a little curvy. But the camera added ten more pounds.
“What?” he protested. “I’m giving you a compliment.”
She stood up and faced him. “Uh-huh.”
He tilted his head like he meant to kiss her again, but then he looked up at the sky and cursed. “Put your dress back on, Jolene.”
“What? What’s wrong?” She followed his gaze. There was a helicopter flying low. “Is that a traffic chopper?”
“What kind of traffic do you think there is here? Put your dress on. Actually, this will be faster.” He threw his T-shirt over her head so that half of it drooped over her forehead and face. The cotton was warm from the sun and it smelled like him.
Suddenly blind, she instinctively went to push the shirt back, then realized why he had done it. Paparazzi. Good Lord, she looked like she’d gone a round with the electric chair and lost. But he was right. If they couldn’t see her face, the shot would be useless. A picture of her in nothing but a bra and panties was worth some bucks only if her face was visible. She sighed. “Shit. I guess we should have taken a rental car to get here.”
“I guess so.” He took her hand, his grip firm. His other hand landed on her shoulder. “Just walk with me. I won’t let you fall.”
“Okay.” Although it was awkward to stumble along with no vision, she did trust Chance not to let her take a facer. “What about your guitar?”
“I’ll come back for it once you’re in the cabin.” He stayed right up on top of her, guiding her. “Another ten feet, then we’re there.”
Jolene gripped the shirt so it didn’t slip. She was used to this intrusiveness in her life, and though she didn’t exactly love it, it was the price of fame and what she’d signed on for. It was part of the gig, plain and simple.
Chance was ranting. “This is bullshit. Don’t they have anything better to do? Who makes their living harassing people? They should be ashamed of themselves.”
“People are curious,” she told him through his shirt. “There’s money in it for the photographers.”
“Well, I know that, Jolene,” he said, and his voice was irritated. “I’m just saying it’s a lame-ass way to make a living.”
She had no response to that. She was just trying to make lemonade out of lemons, and he had to go all righteous on her. She could offer him some platitudes, but he’d just snap at her. “Are we there yet?” she joked.
That did make him give a snort of laughter. “Yes. When I say step up, step up.”
She rolled her eyes behind the shirt. “Thanks for that explanation. Because if you said ‘step up,’ I was going to do something completely different.”
“Should I let you trip next time?” He sounded frustrated, and she knew that this time it wasn’t because of the media.
Maybe that had been a touch snarky. The chopper was making a second pass. She could hear the rotors grow louder. “Sorry. You know I react poorly to being out of control of a situation. I don’t really enjoy having my face covered.”
He didn’t respond. A few seconds later, he said, “Step up.” His voice was gruff, low, but not angry.
She did but didn’t quite land her foot right. Chance caught her when she stumbled, his arms sliding around her to prevent a fall.
“Easy. Up. Up. Up. And we’re in.” He slammed the door shut behind them.
Jolene lifted the shirt with a sigh of relief. “I seriously hope they didn’t get a shot of me with hair like this. That would be embarrassing. Plus, my sister would kill me.”