Heart Breaker (Nashville Nights #1)

He let out an obnoxious yawn. “No. I can go get some if we can’t find them. You’re the devil without coffee.”

Really? Hell, she couldn’t dispute that. She wasn’t exactly at her best caffeine-free. “Elle just called. Those photographers posted the pictures of me at the pond yesterday and were calling out my weight gain.” She opened the last cabinet in the wall run and found filters and coffee grounds. Hallelujah.

“What?” He sounded outraged. “Those assholes! You look amazing. Like, so damn hot I couldn’t control myself. Like, maybe later today I’m going to write a song about your curves.”

That made her roll her eyes. “Oh God, please don’t.”

“Why not?” Chance stood up and stretched, still only in his briefs. Was the man ever going to wear clothes?

“Because it’s unnecessary and only brings more attention to my body.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Jo. Get real. I am not the one calling attention to your body. The simple truth is you are, merely by existing and by your wardrobe, which is ninety percent sparkles and ten percent nothing.”

He had a point. “I just don’t need you sticking up for me.”

Chance came over to the kitchen and leaned on the breakfast bar. “Before I didn’t stick up for you and you were pissed. Now I want to call the media out and you don’t want that, either. Is it any wonder I have no idea what the hell is the right thing to do?”

She chewed her lip as she struggled to gauge how much coffee to use. She needed coffee to figure out the coffeemaker. Surely that was a metaphor for life. Chance probably had a point. “It’s just different. I would just as soon address the issue of my weight gain on my own.”

He stared at her so long that she felt like squirming. Finally he just reached over and took the measuring scoop out of her hand and dipped it into the bag of coffee. “And you call me stubborn.”

She was going to ignore that. “Can we go fishing today? No swimming. Just sitting on the dock on the other side of the pond.”

“Are you trying to give them more fodder?”

“I’m trying to live my life. But yes, I’m going to blow out my hair and put on a bunch of makeup and the cutest crop top I have and let them talk. At least I know they’re going to do it, and I’m prepared.”

He took the coffeepot and went to the sink to fill it up. “Whatever you say. I’m here to do your bidding.”

“God, I so wish that were true.”

Chance laughed. “What would you have me do if you could have me do anything?”

The images that flooded her mind were seriously X-rated. They quickly ran the gamut from him going down on her to a sensual massage to him tying her to his bed. She felt her cheeks burn.

He raised his eyebrows. “That good, huh?”

“I’m picturing you bringing me coffee in bed with a rose in a vase.” That was a lie, but now that she mentioned it…

“After I make you scream my name? I could do that.”

Jolene snorted. “It takes an act of congress to get you out of bed before me.”

“That isn’t a huge request if you have the ability to have me do anything. I could manage it. Once.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Jolene watched the drip of the coffeemaker and willed it to drop her liquid gold faster. “I need to call Ginny and give her a statement.”

“You’re going to respond to the media? Are you sure that’s the best idea?”

“Yes, I do.” She lifted her phone off the counter to start typing. Might as well get it over with. “?‘In response to accusations that I have gained weight, my response is yes, it’s obvious I have. But I make no apologies for it. After a busy tour, I’ve taken some time off to enjoy myself, and that has included some amazing BBQ and skipping a few sessions at the gym. Without dancing on tour, you can do the math. I appreciate y’all’s concern and curiosity, but life has ups and downs and so does my weight. Most likely I will be bigger than this and smaller than this at some point, so don’t worry your heads over it. The obsession with the female form is ridiculous, given that no one gives a rat’s ass if a male country singer gets a spare tire.’?”

“That doesn’t sound bitter at all.” Chance rolled his eyes. “You can’t say that.”

“I know.” She took a deep breath and reached for a coffee mug. “But it felt better to type it out.”

“Now delete it before you accidentally tweet it.”

“Even if I did, it’s too long. Don’t worry, I deleted it the second I got to the ‘e’ in ‘tire.’?” She poured the coffee, shutting her eyes to enjoy the sound.

“You’re going to overpour.”

“The hell I am.” She knew exactly when to stop. “Years of experience.”

“How long have you been drinking coffee?”

“Since I was four.”