“I’m sure you’re right,” he told the woman, because what the hell else was he supposed to say? “Have a nice night.”
As he pushed his cart away, he saw her eyeing the two bottles of booze with no small amount of judgment. Just to be defiant, he snagged another as he rolled away. He didn’t need to feel guilty. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He wasn’t a drunk, despite what Ginny said, and he hadn’t cheated on Jolene. Hell, he’d never considered it. He’d been so wrapped up in her that he never so much as realized other women existed during those months they were together.
He’d never told Jolene that. He’d never admitted his feelings. He’d hinted. Danced around it. Written songs about falling in love. That was it. Because he hadn’t been sure what he was feeling, and he hadn’t known what he wanted. Then or now. Huh. It occurred to him that maybe he didn’t know a damn thing about anything.
His phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. It was Jolene.
Are you coming back soon?
That was an odd message. He quickly typed a response, wondering if something was wrong.
Why, do you miss me?
I think there is someone in the woods. Dolly keeps barking at the window and I thought I saw something.
Great. That made him more than a little nervous. Not content with texting, he called Jolene. When she answered, he said, “Hey. Did you check and make sure the door is locked? And draw the blinds so no one can see you’re alone or creep on you.” He was instantly worried about her safety. People could be crazy stalkers when it came to female stars.
Jolene laughed lightly. “I wasn’t worried or anything. I just thought that maybe once you get back, we can go out on the porch and say hello to them together if it’s photographers. Let them get a few pictures, then ask for some privacy.”
Chance rubbed his forehead. He should have known. Jolene didn’t run from the attention the way he did. He’d been in the business his whole life, and yet somehow he wasn’t nearly as media-savvy. “Okay,” he said shortly.
“What? Are you mad?”
“No. Of course not.” He was just done with having to make decisions about his life based on what some shutterbug thought he’d caught on camera. He eyed the shelf and grabbed the wine Jolene had requested. “I’m just not sure you should throw meat to the lions. They’ll keep circling back around for more.”
“What do you think we should do?”
Run away to a deserted island and spend all day making love in the sand. But there was nowhere to run, and Jolene didn’t want to, anyway. “I honestly don’t know, Jolene.”
“I didn’t tip the media off, I hope you know that.”
She’d never been a liar, so he did trust that she was telling the truth. He also knew that no matter what his stupid knee-jerk reactions were, she wouldn’t purposely set him up against his wishes. She hadn’t called the photographers, he knew it in his gut, and he was a jerk for suggesting it. “I believe you.” He also knew he didn’t want to fight. “Here’s what I want to do—I want to cook you dinner, have a drink, and pick my guitar.”
Her voice lowered. “How about you pick me, too?”
Was that a trap? A trick question? Or was she saying they could continue what they’d started earlier? She’d been angry with him for not getting in the shower with her, and hell, he couldn’t blame her. He would have exploded if she had pulled that move on him. He wanted the chance to make up for his indecisive behavior. “Is that an offer?”
“It’s definitely an offer.”
It might be a trap, but he was willing to walk right into it. That body…damn, she was so incredibly sexy. He wanted to sink right into her softness and never leave. Print that as a headline on a magazine.
He was glad on some level that Ginny was forcing them together. And it wasn’t just because of sex. He felt like learning to be comfortable around each other again was positive for their album, better yet for their future tour.
And it was because of the sex. He wasn’t going to lie.
“I’m not exactly sure what you’re offering, but I’m just going to feel my way around it until I figure it out.” He moved toward the checkout lane.
Jolene laughed softly. “Show me what your fingers can do, picker.”
It wasn’t his fingers she needed to be worrying about. He cleared his throat. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
When he stepped outside after checking out, he thought he heard someone call his name. He turned, grocery bags in hand, and saw a man with a camera about ten feet away, face hidden by the lens.