“What are you doing here?” I croak, my voice hoarse from crying.
Jace’s brows furrow as he rakes his hand through his shaggy hair. “I thought you invited me over.”
“Why would I do that?” Invite the hottest guy in town to hang out when my eyes must look like bruised, overripe peaches? My nose drips, and I run for my box of tissues in the living room.
I’m in the middle of a snot crisis when Jace leans through the front door. “Because I heard you might want to be my nanny.”
Why would he think that?
I grab my phone and look at the text I sent Paige. I meant to write,Please come over. I have more bad news.But spell check auto-corrected my words to,Have him come over. I’ll help him with his bad news.And Paige must’ve thought I was agreeing to help her brother-in-law.
I laugh, then I laugh harder. Until I cry.
“Whoa, hey. It’ll be okay.” Jace puts his arm around my shoulder, and we sit on the couch, side by side. “Wanna tell me about it?”
I shake my head. “No, not really.”
“Okay.” He pauses for a long stretch. “Pink Floyd, huh?”
“Yes.”
“On vinyl?”
“Of course.” I hiccup. “Is there any other way to listen to theWish You Were Herealbum?” Unfortunately for Jace, I’m feeling extra snarky right now.
“Uh, no. That would be my preference too.”
But then I’m listening to the lyrics and crying again, which is embarrassing because I hate crying in front of people. Jace tucks me to his hard chest and rubs my back, and I can’t handle it. The words are out of me before I can stop. “I’ve had a really bad week.”
“Me too,” he says quietly. “Only I feel like a bastard for saying that.”
Sniffling, I lean away. “Explain.”
He motions to the floor where I finally notice the baby in a car seat. “Don’t really wanna equate my bad luck with my kid, you know?”
That makes sense. “She’s really cute. What’s her name?”
“Layla.”
I purse my lips. “No offense, but she doesn’t look like a Layla. Did her mom have a thing for Clapton?”
The man does a double take. “You listen to Eric Clapton?”
“What classic rock lover doesn’t?”
He gives me a crooked smile. “You’re full of surprises today.”
I don’t know what that means, and because I’ve maxed out on whatever awkward thing is happening right now, I hand him the email. “I got fired.”
His brows tighten. “Damn, that sucks.”
“You didn’t know?” This is a small town. People talk.
“Just heard you might need a job while the library is renovated,” he says as he scans the paper. “The mayor fired you over email?”
My injured pride is momentarily mollified by the anger in his voice. “Pretty crappy, right? I feel like my boyfriend just ghosted me.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, Rory.” The man wraps me in his arms again. Is he hugging me right now? Not knowing what else to do, I awkwardly pat his shoulder. When he lets go of me, his greeneyes are so bright, they look like sea glass. “Listen, I understand if you don’t want to be my nanny. You can say no. Going on the road with a band isn’t for everyone. Except it pays well. I need to keep what I’ve saved up for the recording studio, but I’ll give you almost every penny I make on the tour.”
