by Skye Jordan
More tourists spotted him, and Wyatt signed autographs while Belle waited in the spice aisle, arms crossed, a determined frown on her face, and Aaron talked schedule logistics. All Wyatt’s synapses were firing at once, and his brain quickly shorted out. He’d never felt so inept or overwhelmed by anything in his life.
“We’ve got a full schedule for the next six months,” Aaron said, his voice revealing concern. “We’re getting bookings for next year already. You know how canceling looks. You know—”
“Yes. I know.” He slowed the cart at the butcher counter, where Belle spoke with a man dressed in a red-smeared white apron.
“We’re making chicken fried steak,” she told the man.
He pointed to a row of prepackaged meat. “You’re going to want tenderized cube steak for that.”
Belle thanked the man, Wyatt chose a few steaks, and they moved on to the next item on the recipe.
“You’re going to need a nanny,” Aaron said.
“I haven’t even thought that far ahead.”
“They have firms that specialize in finding nannies for celebrities. I’ll check into a few and get back to you with their information.”
He added “find a nanny” to his mental, infinite to-do list. “Okay.”
“Some artists take their young kids on the road with them,” Aaron said. “If you want to go that direction, we can find you a nanny-slash-tutor to travel with you. A lot of kids are homeschooled nowadays.”
Homeschooled?
Wyatt stopped the cart in front of the floor-to-ceiling spice rack. “Hold on.”
He toggled to the recipe, plucked spices from the rack, and handed them to Belle, who tossed them in the cart. Then he found grits on the app and sent Belle on the hunt.
“Sorry,” he said to Aaron. “I hadn’t even considered taking her. That seems like a daunting proposition.”
“There are some really cool learning opportunities for kids on the road, but it would also be harder on you.”
“This is a lot to take in right now.” He stopped in front of the grits, glanced between the two boxes in Belle’s hands, chose one. “Can you just write down your ideas and let me know what my options are? Once I get my head around this, I’ll be able to make some decisions.”
He disconnected with an intense need for a drink. Wyatt typed beer into the app, and when Belle looked at the phone, she swiped it from his hand to carry with her.
He found himself staring into the alcoholic beverage cooler with white-out conditions in his head. Making one more decision, even if it was as minor as what beer to choose, felt too hard.
Then his gaze paused on Gypsy’s favorite IPA, making this his easiest decision of the day. He grabbed two six-packs and looked at Belle, who had his phone. “Please tell me we’re done.”
She gave a shrug and handed him back the phone. “All I know is I still have to spend my ten bucks.”
10
Gypsy wasn’t used to this unsettled sensation. On her drive between the bar and her house, she’d successfully tied her stomach in knots thinking about Wyatt. Specifically, how impressed she’d been with the way he was taking on this situation. It had given her a really deep look into a man she’d been infatuated with for a long time.
There had always been the hint of someone deeper underneath his celebrity façade, but today, she’d seen the real man. Knowing that made it extra hard to push him into the same category as other celebrities, or even other men, and without that logical reason to keep her walls up around him, Gypsy experienced an even deeper desire. She started wondering things like how he’d fit into her life. How giving him a chance might look.
Then she got real. She thought about his travel and his time on the road. She knew all too well how his life away from Nashville played out. Gypsy had been there, done that, and she had the kid to prove it.
No way would she go willingly into that situation again.
Gypsy pulled onto the property with a sigh of relief. Another day down. She had the bar adequately staffed tonight, so she could spend some much-needed time with Cooper. At least until he fell asleep; then she’d get around to the mountains of busy work the bar created—marketing, social media, event planning, entertainment scheduling, and bills. So many bills.
Miranda and Cooper were already at the house when she pulled around to park in the back. As soon as Gypsy spotted her dark-haired boy, her heart lightened. She forgot all about Wyatt and his problems as she dropped into a crouch to catch her son as he flung himself into her arms with a happy “Mama!”
“Hey, Coop.” She hugged him tight and pressed a kiss to his hair. He smelled like a little boy who’d done a lot of playing today, and she was thrilled to see him so happy. Just holding him pried her heart wide open.
Miranda stood on the deck, arms crossed, grinning at the two of them. Gypsy’s life felt so complete, so solid. She’d reconnected with her siblings, been taken into the family Miranda had created with Marty and Alaina, and she had a perfectly healthy, perfectly happy three-year-old son. Her bar was busier than ever, pulling in money hand over fist. All she needed now was more time with Cooper, and her life would be perfect.
Her mind strayed back to Wyatt. Having a sexy man in her life would be the cherry on top.
She and Cooper strolled toward the house. “Was he good?”
“Of course.” Miranda waved away the question. “Always. He’s an angel. We won’t even discuss his attempt to run off with one of the tractors on the Quail Ridge property.”
Gypsy’s eyes flew wide and her mouth dropped open. “What?”
“We were checking out the tractors.” Miranda owned a construction business and specialized in container homes. Quail Ridge was one of her newest developments. “And Cooper was just climbing around the way he always does, checking out the big tires, the big scoops, the high seats. Then he found a key one of the guys had left in the ignition. But he didn’t much like the sound of the engine rolling over. I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about him taking any joyrides. At least not for a few more years.”
The casual way Miranda conveyed the situation told Gypsy no real concern was warranted, and Gypsy knew from her time with Miranda that more went into moving heavy machinery than the simple turn of a key.
At the base of the stairs, she crouched and looked at Cooper. “Were you playing with the tractors today?”
He frowned. “They sound like monsters.”
She could imagine how the sudden, unexpected growl of a tractor could most definitely sound like a monster to a little boy.
Gypsy kissed his forehead and pushed to her feet. She met Miranda on the porch. “Thanks for watching him. The bar was insane last night.”
“With Wyatt Jackson playing, I imagine it was standing room only.”
She pushed open the front door to the small, two-bedroom container home Miranda had built for Gypsy before Cooper was born. Inside, she dropped her purse on the kitchen counter, while Cooper wandered into the living room and pulled out some toys.
“That man is more trouble than he’s worth,” Gypsy said. “He showed up late—with his five-year-old niece.”
Miranda’s eyes widened with surprise. “He brought a kid into your bar? While it was open?”
“Cone of silence?” she asked as she opened the refrigerator and frowned at its empty state.
Miranda took a seat on a stool at the breakfast bar. “Always.”
She glanced toward the living room to make sure Cooper was occupied and lowered her voice. “His sister-in-law bailed on his niece. As in moved-out-of-the-country bailed.”
Miranda gasped, her face a mask of horror. “No.”
“Mama,” Cooper whined, rolling around on the floor with one of his stuffed animals.
“I’ll get you a snack, Coop. Carrots or apples?”
“Apples.”
Gypsy cut up an apple and handed it to Cooper in a small plastic bowel. “Do you remember how to turn on the Disney station?”
&n
bsp; Cooper started toward the television. “Yeah.”
Gypsy watched him totter to his child-sized beanbag chair with an apple slice in one hand and the bowl in the other. He dropped onto the pillow-like chair and picked up the remote from the side table. Without any trouble, he turned on the television, which was always tuned to Disney+, and contentedly ate his Apple while watching a The Lion Guard.
“We haven’t turned on the TV since you dropped him off yesterday,” Miranda said as Gypsy returned to the kitchen. “This will be a nice break for him.”
“I bet he’ll sleep good tonight.” Gypsy returned to the refrigerator and groaned when she saw she was out of beer. “Damn, I should have lifted a six-pack from the bar.” She pulled out an open bottle of white wine from the inner door. “How about a glass of Riesling?”
“That would be great. I’m in no rush to get home to an empty house.”
“When will Jack be home?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.” She slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar. “When’s the last time you got to the store? Your fridge looks like mine did before I met Jack.”
Store. Wyatt. For a minute, she’d forgotten all about him. She emptied the rest of the bottle into two wineglasses and slid onto a stool beside Miranda.
“I was going to go today after interviews,” Gypsy said, “but when Wyatt came to pick up Belle, he was a mess. The attorney had just explained all about Francie leaving for good, so we talked awhile. When he heard I had to get Cooper, he offered to go to the store for me.” Gypsy glanced out the window, mentally calculating how long he’d been gone. “But now that I’m thinking about it, that wasn’t the best idea. He probably doesn’t even remember what a grocery store looks like. Might be midnight before he shows up.”
“Huh.”
Miranda’s quizzical response begged for a reply. “Huh, what?”
“Huh, you’re watching his niece, you’re talking about deep shit, and you’ve got a Top 40 artist grocery shopping for you. This isn’t sounding like the same guy you’ve been brushing off for years.”
“He’s just paying me back for the hell he’s caused in my life the last two days.”
Miranda took a long sip of her wine and smiled over the rim. “You and Jackson have been dancing around the heat between you for years. Don’t even try to deny it. I’ve been there when he walks in and you two look at each other. The oxygen gets sucked out of the room.”
“It doesn’t matter what happens. He’s not the kind of guy for me.”
“The kind a guy who could melt the North Pole with his smile?”
Gypsy gave Miranda a look. “I mean the kind who lives on the road three hundred days a year and has a woman—or five—at every stop.”
“That only means he’s probably damn good in bed.”
“It also gives him an ego the size of an iceberg—to keep our frozen metaphor going.”
“And people say I’m stubborn. I get it. I admire how diligent you are about putting Cooper first. But you work so damn hard. You have so much responsibility and no one to lean on.”
“I have plenty of people to lean on—you, Jack, Dylan, Emma, Marty, Alaina.”
“But you never lean on us for anything.”
“How can you say that? You built me this house. And you and Dylan babysit Cooper so much, he probably doesn’t know which one of us is his real parent.”
“Give me a break. Dylan and I have to pry that boy from your arms. You never ask unless it’s a last resort. Besides, that’s not the kind of leaning I’m talking about. There’s nothing like love to ease your burdens and give your life a whole new look.”
“Hmm,” she said around a sip of wine. Gypsy had seen exactly what her sister was talking about between Miranda and Jack, and Dylan and Emma. But Gypsy had never experienced that kind of connection herself. “I wouldn’t know.”
“That’s my point. You haven’t dated in years. You’ve put your entire personal life on hold. I’d like to see some love in your life, and the only guy you’ve let close is Wyatt.”
“We’re not close,” she said with conviction. “That man is pure heartache waiting to happen.”
“Why do you even try to deny it? You’re doing things that friends do for each other. And he’s so into you, he can’t even look at another woman when you’re around. If you could see the way his gaze follows you around the bar…” Miranda tsked.
“That doesn’t mean much considering how rarely he’s at the bar. Who does he look at in the weeks between visits?”
Miranda laughed. “Who cares?”
Gypsy frowned at her.
“I’m not talking forever here,” she said. “Look, I know you’re protecting yourself and Cooper from a string of bad fits. Who could be better for that position than a guy who pops in for hot sex, then leaves you alone to raise your kid and run your bar?”
A guy who stays.
Gypsy wasn’t sure where that thought came from, but she couldn’t deny that, ultimately, she wanted what Miranda had with Jack. What Dylan had with Emma. Love. Real love. Deep, lasting love.
But that wasn’t Wyatt. Not with his lifestyle. “I already have too much going on. And he’s going to be struggling with this new responsibility.”
Miranda accepted the subject change. “So, what happened with his niece?”
Gypsy glanced toward the window to make sure Wyatt’s entrance wasn’t imminent. “Honestly, I feel for the guy. His sister-in-law walked out on her daughter’s fifth birthday party and left full guardianship to Wyatt. He’s beside himself. He left Belle with me so he could go talk to the attorney, which made him late picking Belle up. I had to take her to my interviews, which didn’t go over well with my first choice. I offered her the job, and she walked out because she thought that me asking her to watch Belle for a minute was unprofessional.”
“Good riddance. You need way more flexibility in a bar manager.” She sipped her wine. “That must be why Wyatt sent himself to purgatory—I mean the grocery store.”
“Yep.” Gypsy shook her head. “I never could have imagined him jumping into a situation like this with both feet. I mean, he signed the papers, taking complete responsibility for Belle. That’s…huge.”
“Sounds like there might be more to this playboy than you think.”
Gypsy was already shaking her head when the sound of tires on gravel drifted through the windows. Nerves prickled up her arms, and she fixed Miranda with a look. “Don’t go anywhere. I’m hoping he won’t stay long if you’re here.”
Gypsy moved into the kitchen to straighten things up, then ran her hands through her hair and smoothed down her blouse.
“Now I see the problem,” Miranda said. “You like him. You’re staying at arm’s length because you’re really into him.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong.”
“I know how you act when you like someone.”
Jesus. Gypsy put a hand on her hip and faced Miranda. “I was wrong. You need to leave.”
“Oh no. Absolutely not. I’ve heard his ass is amazing, and I’ve never had the chance to get a really good look.”
“Miranda…” Gypsy warned.
Her sister didn’t have time to respond before a knock came at the front door. Wyatt didn’t wait for Gypsy to answer, just walked in.
Miranda smirked and lifted her brows in a that’s-interesting expression.
Gypsy took some grocery bags. “What in the heck did you buy? I only had five things on the list.”
“Five things aren’t enough to make a proper supper—” Wyatt caught sight of Miranda and stopped short. “Oh, hi.”
“Hi,” Miranda responded with a little too much enthusiasm.
Wyatt and Belle moved toward the kitchen and settled bags on the counter. Wyatt offered his hand and one of his killer smiles. “I’m Wyatt. I’ve seen you at the bar, yeah? You must be Gypsy’s sister.”
“Miranda.” She shook his hand. “I help out once in a while.”
“He couldn’t find anything,�
�� Belle said with a roll of her eyes. “I had to show him where everything was with the grocery store app, and girls kept stopping us for his autograph.” She added a dramatic sigh. “Tourists.”
Miranda burst out laughing.
Grinning, Wyatt gestured to Belle with a container of bread crumbs. “This is Belle, my niece, five going on twenty-five.”
Miranda and Belle exchanged hellos before Belle’s attention strayed toward the Disney music. She wandered into the living room and introduced herself to Cooper, who in turn offered her an apple slice.
“Look at that,” Miranda said. “Instant friends.”
Gypsy cut her sister a don’t-start glare before stepping up to the counter beside Wyatt and peering into the bags. There was meat and veggies and fruit and seasonings, and God knew what else.
“Staying for dinner, Miranda?” Wyatt asked as he pulled groceries out and set them on the counter.
“No,” Gypsy answered for Miranda. “She’s not staying. And neither are you.”
“Don’t be like that, sugar,” Wyatt said.
Miranda crossed her arms, leaned back on her stool, and gave Gypsy that I-wouldn’t-miss-this-for-the-world smirk. “Yeah, don’t be like that. Sugar.”
Great, now they were ganging up on her. Wyatt was way too big for her kitchen, and he looked way too comfortable there too.
Good God. Wyatt-freaking-Jackson was standing in her kitchen, unpacking groceries. This was weird. Really weird.
It was one thing to have him drop Belle and go, but it was another to have him making himself at home in her house. He’d gone from someone to occasionally shoot the shit with to the guy making her dinner in her own kitchen. And it had happened overnight.
She suddenly couldn’t see the lines demarcating their relationship anymore, and that, more than anything, made her insanely nervous.
He set a pink-wrapped package of meat on the counter along with green beans, butter, Crisco, pepper, hot sauce…