She just didn’t know if she could bring herself to forgive him.
“Did you really not know the lyrics belonged to me?” She didn’t know why, but suddenly she thought his answer might contain the key to this whole forgiveness thing.
Might.
Jack pinched the space between his eyebrows. “I didn’t. Not until I heard your first message. And then . . . I don’t know, I just—”
“Didn’t know how to stop it?”
Jack studied his feet as though searching for a way to disagree. But she knew he couldn’t, just like she knew there wasn’t a way to answer it that would satisfy either of them. April didn’t know if there ever would be. The only thing she knew right then was that her shift had just ended. She tore off her apron and rolled it into a ball, then looked up at Jack with what felt like a weak smile.
“This is it for me. I think I’m going to head home and pretend this day never happened.”
He finally looked up at her. “Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad. You got to see me again, after all.”
She made a face before she could stop it. It just figured that she would be the only woman in America less than thrilled at the chance to talk to Jack Vaughn, especially considering her dream of making it big in Nashville. Oh, the irony.
She sighed. “From what I’ve heard, you talked to my sister the other day. Otherwise known as Bridezilla. Otherwise known as the bane of my existence. Otherwise known as the woman who makes more demands than Paris Hilton at a sample sale. Otherwise known as—”
Jack gave a soft laugh, and something about the sound wreaked a weird sort of havoc on her heart. “You lost me at Paris Hilton, but I did talk to your sister. She seemed a little stressed.”
April didn’t know if she detected sarcasm or not, but she went with it anyway. “Yes, I’m sure she’s stressed. Because what bride wouldn’t be going crazy when she’s busy ordering her sister to call the caterer, take care of decorations, rewrite wedding vows, pick out a negligé for the wedding night, make plans for—”
“Wait—she expects you to write the vows?”
April didn’t consider this the most outlandish item on the to-do list she’d just recited, especially considering the fact that wedding night shopping had forced her into three Victoria’s Secrets, one Fredrick’s of Hollywood, and another store that she would never speak of again, ever. Not even under the threat of the torture chamber or being forced to give up ice cream for a month. Both pretty much equaled the same thing.
She nodded. “Among other things. I think I’ve rewritten those vows a hundred times, and each time she nixes them based on a couple of words. Sometimes only one. I’ve recited them in my head so much that I’m a little afraid I’m accidentally already married to her fiancé.”
This time Jack threw his head back and laughed. He had a nice jawline. Chisled. Slightly unshaven. She liked unshaven.
April hated herself for noticing.
“I don’t think it works that way, but I could be wrong.”
“Let’s hope you aren’t. Sam’s a great guy and all, but he’s a little shorter than I like. Not to mention he’s been dating my sister for three years. I believe in a lot of things, but sharing boyfriends isn’t one of them.”
Jack raised an eyebrow and glanced down at himself. “You like your men tall, do you?”
April wanted to punch herself right in the middle of her big mouth. Of course she would say that out loud. And of course Jack was over six feet tall. “Not super tall, definitely not as tall as you.” She raked her gaze over his features to communicate her displeasure. There. That should do it.
Maybe.
“April, I’m thinking . . .” With a hesitant smile, he dragged in a slow breath and all she could think was please quit thinking, please quit thinking. But as her usual luck would have it, Jack’s mind was in full working order. “You’re off work, I’m finished performing. Do you want to get coffee or something? I’d like to find out more about how you got talked into wedding-night shopping. Interested?”
April gave a little laugh. No, she wasn’t interested. No, she couldn’t care less what he wanted to find out about her. No, she didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t even like coffee.
Which was why she couldn’t believe it when her brain seemed to forget their earlier altercation and her mouth opened completely without any help from her and said, “Sure. Coffee sounds great.”
“That isn’t true. Just because a person is famous doesn’t mean he’s shallow. Not all of us like full-body massages and seaweed wraps.”