Chance looked slightly vulnerable in a way that made Jolene want to squeeze him in a hug. She gave him a reassuring smile. “Definitely not a bad one. But I think we should jump in the car and go out, do something. We’re spinning our wheels here. We need a change of scenery.”
He shrugged. “Okay. If that’s what you want. We taking the dog or leaving her here to destroy the rental cottage?”
“She can come with us.” Dolly did have a mischievous side. They probably shouldn’t leave her alone too long without supervision. “Let me grab a sweater and my purse.”
Chance stood up and stretched. “Are we going back to Nashville? If we are, can I stop at the diner and grab a snack?”
“You’re hungry again?” She was having a career crisis, on the verge of being done for, and all he could think about was food?
“I’m always hungry.”
It was so unfair. He could eat nonstop and never gain weight. “Fine, we can go to the diner. But I don’t think I’ll be able to eat until we have some sort of breakthrough and get a second song rolling.” She realized what sort of teasing she had opened herself up to, so she immediately held up her hand. “No jokes about me not being known to miss a meal. I know I need to lose weight, but honestly, my stomach is tied up in knots here.”
“Hey.” Chance came over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Jo, I would never, ever make a crack about your weight. Truly. I think you look beautiful, and I wish I could make it so you never have to deal with anyone’s opinion about it but your own. So please don’t feel like you need to be defensive with me about what you eat or don’t eat. If you want ice cream for dinner or a pizza at three A.M., I fully support that.”
To her surprise, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.
She immediately felt the tension in her shoulders relax. “Thanks,” she said slowly.
She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but it felt like they had achieved a new level in their communication skills. It was reassuring. Easy.
Yet it seemed to have come at the expense of their ability to create music together. If it wasn’t one damn thing, it was another.
“You ready?” he asked. “I’ll grab Dolly’s leash.”
“Give me a minute.”
The look he gave her meant he was well aware that one minute meant more like thirty. “Hell. You’re going to paint your face, aren’t you?”
“I have to, since you twisted my arm and we’re driving all the way back to Nashville.” Jolene cupped his cheeks and gave him a soft kiss. “Entertain yourself for five minutes. Eat a snack.”
“I’m not seven. I can’t be placated with crackers from your purse. I have needs, JoJo.”
That made her laugh. “When have you ever turned down a snack?”
“That’s beside the point.”
She rolled her eyes and went to make herself presentable. They were going out in public. She needed her war paint on. She didn’t mind, for the most part. She’d always loved playing with makeup. She could still feel the sting of her backside when her mama had caught her liberally smearing Avon lipstick onto her pouty five-year-old mouth. At the time she hadn’t realized that the purchase of that lipstick had cost her mother a black eye when her daddy found out she’d spent some of the grocery money. Even that hide tanning hadn’t soured her on makeup. There were only a few occasions, usually before eight in the morning, when she fervently wished she didn’t have to put on her face. But for the most part, she appreciated the transformation. It took her ordinary looks and made her feel glamorous, grown up.
Still, since Chance was waiting, she skipped the false eyelashes, sticking with a smoky eye and a neutral lip.
“I’m ready,” she said a mere seventeen minutes later.
Chance was on the couch pretending to be asleep. He was even fake-snoring.
She laughed. “I thought you said you weren’t seven. Could have fooled me.”
His eyes twitched, but he didn’t break his breathing.
So she jumped on him, butt on gut. His eyes flew open and he started laughing, grabbing her before she could leap back off of him.
“No tickling!” She was scrambling away, but he had her around the waist.
“No jumping on me.”
By the time she escaped his grip, she was breathless, her hair in her eyes. “Do you want to drive?”
He stopped grappling at her. “For real?”
“Yes, for real. I don’t feel like driving.” Besides, she knew how much he hated being driven around, and she didn’t want to create stress. She was worried about their lack of creativity. She didn’t need to spark another argument.
“Awesome, thanks.” He stood up and hummed a melody. “She’s got a big ol’ truck,” he sang. “Where she likes to—”
Jolene cut him off with a hand out and some raised eyebrows. “The songwriting dry spell clearly continues.” She shook her head. “I hope that fresh air cuts through the cobwebs, or we are as done as dinner, mister.”
Chance gave her a panty-melting grin. “At least it was a good meal.”
Chapter 11