Must Be Wright (The Wrights Book 3)

by Skye Jordan

  “No. I just told her we’re doing a sleepover at my house tonight.”

  “I so hate you right now, Jackson.”

  Gypsy walked away, moved behind the bar, and climbed on top, much the way Wyatt had days before. But she didn’t have his whistling skills, so she reached for a cow bell hanging in one corner and rang it until everyone in the bar went quiet.

  “If it doesn’t come from a bottle or a tap,” she yelled, “we’re out.”

  A collective groan of disappointment rippled through the bar.

  “In good news,” she added, “Wyatt Jackson finally got his lazy ass in here.”

  The disappointment turned into cheers, then the chant of his name. “Wy-att, Wy-att, Wy-att.”

  She climbed off the bar and worked up a smile for Belle. “I’m betting you’re Princess Belle.”

  Her eyes brightened. “You’re right.”

  “Then you must like Beauty and the Beast.”

  “I do.”

  “I’m Gypsy. I have the video in my office. Wanna come back and watch it with me?”

  She pulled in a sharp breath. “Is it the real movie?”

  “You mean with real people?”

  “Yeah.”

  No, it was the cartoon version, one Cooper hadn’t quite gained interest in yet. But Gypsy could easily enough download the real-people version. “Bet I can find that one.”

  Belle jumped off her stool and met Gypsy at the swinging door, where she slid her hand into Gypsy’s.

  Wyatt crouched and took Belle’s free hand. “I’m just going to sing for a bit, then we’ll go home. Maybe stop and get ice cream on the way.”

  Belle grinned and patted Wyatt’s face. Gypsy didn’t want to notice or care, but the love between the two was palpable. “Yes. My tummy feels better. Can we go to Baskin Robbins and get bubblegum flavor?”

  “It’s your birthday, baby. Anything goes.”

  He stood and met Gypsy’s eyes. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  Like she hadn’t heard that before. “Yes, you will.”

  “Cover your ears,” he said, then turned toward the crowd and whistled. “First round of Bud is on me!”

  The crowd went wild.

  Gypsy smirked. “That’s a good start. Get your ass up on stage.”

  She took Belle down the hall and into her office, where she closed the door to shut out the craziness.

  “Wow, it’s messy in here,” Belle said.

  Gypsy leaned back against the door and took a minute to breathe. She hadn’t had time to clean or organize or generally keep her own shit together, and here she was corralling Wyatt’s shit. Nothing had made her this angry in a long damn time. “Yes, it is.”

  She forced her mind off Wyatt and onto the candidates coming in for interviews tomorrow. She was beyond fried, and if something didn’t break soon, she was going to end up in a pink padded room.

  Belle wandered the office looking at the supplies lined up on the shelves and checking out boxes of promotional material, then made her way to the box of toys Gypsy kept for Cooper. Gypsy searched her desk, dug around, and uncovered her laptop. “Okay. Beauty and the Beast.”

  She searched Amazon Video for the “real” Beauty and the Beast. Maybe, with Belle absorbed in the movie, Gypsy could get some paperwork done. That might distract her from the hard-liquor cash sliding down the drain in the bar.

  “Gypsy,” Belle said, “can we play diner instead?”

  Gypsy glanced at Belle over the laptop. “What?”

  Belle held an order pad and a pen, and the girl had the same damn smile as Wyatt—the one that could melt steel. “Diner. I’ll be your waitress.”

  Wyatt’s voice permeated the walls as he warmed up his crowd with chitchat. Followed by laughter and cheers.

  Gypsy rested her chin in her hand and sighed. She was too tired to focus on paperwork anyway. “A princess waitress. That’s original.”

  She stood and looked around. Gypsy picked up an apron and knelt in front of Belle, tying it around her little waist. Wyatt’s acoustical guitar pierced the walls, followed by the rich sound of Wyatt’s voice. A voice that could turn everything inside her into marshmallow.

  “There you go,” Gypsy said. “You put the pad and pen in this pocket, and let’s get you some straws to put in this one.” Belle’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and Gypsy’s heart squeezed. She couldn’t fathom a mother being so messed up she would abandon this beautiful creature. “Do you and your mom play diner?”

  Belle’s smile faded. “Not anymore. She’s always tired, and she sleeps a lot. Playing just makes her sad.”

  Gypsy chastised herself for judging Belle’s mother. Francie had been raising Belle mostly on her own, and as soon as her husband finally came home to stay, he killed himself. Gypsy couldn’t begin to understand what toll that took on a person. Wyatt hadn’t ever shown her the depth of his pain. She’d only caught glimpses of it over the last year.

  Tonight was the first time she’d seen beneath that protective mask he kept on at all costs. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the exposure, but she sure didn’t like the way he’d come to her for help as soon as that mask slipped.

  Fucking men.

  She really had to work on being less…approachable, dependable. Or maybe just less of a sucker.

  “Okay,” Belle said, “you go sit at your desk like you’re working, and I’ll come take your order.”

  Gypsy pushed to her feet and rounded her desk. Belle went to the door and disappeared. Gypsy barely got into her chair before Belle reentered the office, chin high, step fluid and slow, as if she were walking the red carpet. She came to a stop beside Gypsy and broke out her biggest smile yet, complete with dimples and sparkling blue eyes. She curtsied, which was both adorable and amusing. Then she poised her pen over her pad and gave Gypsy an all-encompassing attention that reminded Gypsy of Wyatt—when he wanted something. “What may I get you, ma’am?”

  The twang in ma’am made Gypsy laugh. The girl had the same charismatic, likeable energy as her uncle.

  Gypsy rested her chin in her hand and glanced at the ceiling. “Let’s see.” A massage. Forty-eight hours of sleep. Two uninterrupted days on the beach. “I’ll take a grape Nehi.”

  Belle made a face so funny, Gypsy laughed. “All right, how about sassafras.”

  The girl’s nose wrinkled. “Sass-what?”

  Grinning, Gypsy reached out and stroked Belle’s perfect cheek. “I’ll take a Shirley Temple, please.”

  4

  Wyatt’s set had only taken about an hour, but the autographing session afterward had taken just as long.

  He’d escaped in a lull between people approaching for autographs and swaggered down the hall toward Gypsy’s office with his guitar strapped to his back. And, yeah, he was admittedly swaggering, because nothing made him feel as high or amazing as performing. Especially when he got to see Gypsy in the same night.

  But as he laid his hand on the knob of the office door, he thought of Belle, and his heart sank. Then he thought of Gypsy, and it fell another notch. She had every right to kick his ass.

  All his air rushed out of his lungs. He took a step back, pulled out his phone, and dialed Francie’s number. But her phone was either off or her battery was dead, because his call went straight to voicemail.

  Wyatt leaned against the wall, dropped his head back, and closed his eyes. He’d have to go to the police in the morning. He’d already called, but they’d said that unless there were suspicious circumstances involved in Francie’s disappearance, Wyatt would have to wait to put in a missing person’s report. Evidently, bailing on your daughter’s birthday party didn’t fall in their “suspicious” category.

  He hoped his mother was right. Hoped Francie had just been in need of some mommy-time, but his thoughts aligned with Gypsy’s. Disappearing without telling anyone and without making any solid plans for how her daughter would be cared for was the very definition of abandonment.

  He wasn’t thrilled wit
h the realization that his parents had been enabling Francie’s behavior, but he’d have to deal with that when they returned from their cruise.

  All he could do now was keep Belle entertained and safe until her mother returned. But he was no more prepared to do that than he was to smooth the waters with Gypsy. And he was all too aware that being so pampered on the road with assistants and chefs and coordinators and managers and security had robbed him of his ability to deal with adversity.

  Wyatt stepped up to the door and turned the knob, opening the door quietly in case Belle was asleep. His gaze landed on Gypsy’s desk first, which looked like a cyclone had just passed through. Following the inward swing of the door, he saw the entire office was a mirror of her desk. He stared at the boxes stacked on top of each other, banners haphazardly tossed over chairs, shelves stuffed with a mishmash of office supplies.

  He was momentarily dumbfounded. This didn’t look like Gypsy at all. She had always been militant about the bar’s organization and cleanliness. She was a marketing wiz, a genius with the books. Every part of the business’s façade was tailored for a kickass image, right down to the coasters she put beneath everyone’s drinks.

  This, Wyatt didn’t understand at all.

  His gaze landed on a love seat in the far corner, and all the tension inside him eased. Gypsy and Belle sat together in the center. There was a kids’ book in Belle’s lap and her head lay on Gypsy shoulder. Gypsy’s head lay against Belle’s, and they were both asleep.

  Wyatt leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb while crazy things happened inside him. Sparks flew, then melted. His stomach dropped, then floated. His heart squeezed, then released and filled.

  And all he could do was stare.

  Wow.

  If he hadn’t already been crazy about Gypsy, he would have tumbled head over heels right now. She might not have been happy about it, but she’d selflessly put the needs of a little girl she didn’t even know above her own. This woman was even more incredible than he’d thought, and he was damn sure she’d be able to walk on water if she put her mind to it.

  He made his way their direction and crouched in front of the sofa. Gypsy’s maternal side was seriously sexy. Wyatt had always known she was more bark than bite, but when she was with Cooper, or now with Belle, her heart glowed like a neon sign. And damn but she was beautiful. Her smooth face relaxed in sleep, long eyelashes curved against blushed cheeks, the swell of her breasts rising and falling as she breathed.

  An emotion he couldn’t immediately identify flared in his chest, burning along his ribs. Stronger than attraction, deeper than affection. He’d never been in love, so he couldn’t say that was what he was feeling, but whatever it was made him want to back away slowly, the way one would from a hungry mountain lion. This woman had the ability to chew him up and spit him out. But he couldn’t look away. He hadn’t been able to look away for going on three years.

  And, going on three years, she’d adamantly refused to get involved with any man, all so she could put Cooper first. She wore her priorities on her sleeve. She was up front and adamant about what she wanted and needed. And it wasn’t Wyatt.

  He loved touring and entertaining and traveling. He loved his band and his crew. And he’d seen firsthand how his absence could damage the people he loved. His thoughts drifted to Brody, and his heart grew heavy with loss and guilt. So much guilt. Wyatt hadn’t been there for his brother, and he’d gone and killed himself. Wyatt had missed something important with Francie, and she’d abandoned her child.

  No, Wyatt wasn’t fit for anything more than he had. And Gypsy deserved so much more.

  Wyatt laid a hand on her knee and watched her lids flutter before her beautiful green eyes focused on him. All her anger from earlier was gone, leaving only a sleepy, sexy, remarkable woman. His gaze lowered to her mouth, and his mind drifted to the fantasy of feeling it under his own. Her tongue slid along her lips as she straightened, and all Wyatt’s blood flowed south.

  “Hey.” Gypsy blinked and glanced around the office. “What time is it? Please tell me it’s time to close the bar.”

  “Sorry, sugar, it’s only eleven.”

  She closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the sofa, as if she couldn’t bear to think about moving. “Have you heard from your sister-in-law?”

  “No. I’ll head to the police station in the morning to file a missing person’s report.”

  She met his eyes with sympathy in her own. “This is so sad. She’s so sweet.”

  He nodded and let his gaze slide to Belle’s face. She looked like Francie when she slept, but he saw a lot of Brody in her when she was awake—her eyes, her smile, her mannerisms. “She’s a great kid.”

  “I don’t know if I ever told you about my mom.”

  “Only that she was an addict.”

  Gypsy nodded. She rocked her shoulders and sat straighter, trying to wake up. “She disappeared all the time. It creates feelings that are hard to describe. Like you’re living on a trap door that would drop open without warning.” She stroked Belle’s hair. “When it happens enough, it makes you feel like you’re the one that’s bad. Like you’re not worth staying for or that you’re unlovable. I was about Belle’s age when my dad got custody, but I still remember the earlier years. And even after, when I’d go for visitation with my mom, it kept happening until I was finally taken away from her. I was lucky to have Miranda as a constant in my life.”

  This was a rare glance inside the softer side of an extremely strong woman. One she didn’t give just anyone. Right now, Wyatt wasn’t feeling particularly deserving.

  She finally looked up and met his gaze. There was a lot of serious thought going on behind her eyes. “I guess Belle is lucky to have you.”

  “I don’t know about that. I’m not a constant in any world but my own.” He looked at Belle and shook his head. “Francie knew my parents were leaving on a cruise for three weeks. And she knew I was only in town for Belle’s birthday. Belle could have ended up in foster care.”

  Gypsy huffed a laugh and gave him a tired smile. “You may have a crazy lifestyle, but everyone knows you’re a good guy deep down. If she really did leave town, it sounds like she planned it well, leaving when she knew Belle was surrounded by her family. Your parents would cancel their cruise if they knew, wouldn’t they?”

  “In a heartbeat,” he said. “They already offered.”

  “And here you are, doing what you have to do to take care of her. Maybe your mom’s right and she’ll be back tomorrow or the day after. It falls within the window of your visit. Maybe she saw this as a way to get a couple of days to herself. I’m not saying it’s right or okay, but I do understand the crushing responsibility of single parenthood.”

  Gypsy sighed and gingerly pulled her arm from around Belle’s shoulders.

  When his niece didn’t wake, Wyatt gave Gypsy’s knee a squeeze. “Why don’t you stay here with Belle? I’ll take your spot at the bar.”

  “Thanks, but that would only encourage people to stay. If you leave, customers will leave, and I may be able to close a little early. Besides, you need to get Belle home.”

  Wyatt felt the stress of the day on his shoulders like a heavy blanket, so he didn’t argue. He slid his hands under Bell’s arms and pulled her toward him. Belle didn’t even stir. She melted against him like a rag doll, head on his shoulder, arms hanging down.

  “You and me both, Belle,” Gypsy said with a smile. “You and me both.”

  Gypsy untied the apron and let it slide from Bell’s waist, then followed Wyatt through the bar and into the parking lot. When he reached his truck, Wyatt realized his keys were in his pocket, and he couldn’t get them while holding Belle.

  “Hey, sugar.” He gave Gypsy the kind of smile that usually made women drop their panties. “Can you get the keys from my pocket?”

  She planted one hand at her hip and scowled. “Does that really work?”

  “Every time.”

  Gypsy sputtered a disgust
ed sound and crossed her arms.

  “Actually, I’m serious. They’re in my right pocket. I can’t get them.”

  “You are a royal pain in my ass, Jackson.” Gypsy stepped close and slid her hand into his pocket.

  Her soft floral scent drifted to him on the warmth of her body heat, and Wyatt was instantly high. “Little lower,” he murmured, mere inches away from her ear. “Ah, yeah, that’s it. Little to the left.”

  She dragged his keys from his pocket and planted her fist in his side, pulling an umph from him, followed by a laugh. She tapped the fob, and the door locks clicked. Pulling open the door, she leaned in and looked in the back, before turning to him with a frown. “No car seat?”

  “Car seat? She’s five.” He leaned into the truck, trying to figure out how to set her down without waking her. “Her mother vanished without telling anyone. If her daughter’s feelings didn’t come to mind, I doubt a car seat was very high on her list.”

  Gypsy pulled on his arm. “You can’t put her in the front seat unless you disable the passenger-side airbag. Airbags can kill kids.”

  He gave her a blank stare. “Well, shit.”

  Everything he didn’t know about children rushed at him, and the sliver of panic he’d smothered by performing floated to the surface again. What in the hell was he going to do with a five-year-old girl? He could barely keep track of himself. In fact, he had a hired village to take care of him. How could anyone expect him to take care of a child?

  Gypsy reached past Wyatt and pulled the lever to angle the passenger seat forward. “At least strap her into the backseat. Any kid sixty pounds or under needs a car seat. And they need to stay in the back.”

  “Who knew there were so many details in keeping a kid alive?” To lighten the moment and keep himself from having a panic attack, he transferred the strap of his guitar to Belle’s shoulder. “There. Sixty pounds.”

  Gypsy smirked. “Hardly. If her mom doesn’t come back tomorrow, the first thing you need to do is pick up a car seat.”

  “Don’t talk like that, sugar. I’m already one beat away from a heart attack.”