Roxy’s logic did not resonate with her audience, because their waterworks continued. Belinda simply smiled and shook her head. “Thanks. We’re excited, by which I mean Ben and me, but”—she eased back and beamed at Roxy—“Melody told me you received some exciting news of your own today.”
West stopped in the process of rescuing the dog from a flood of little girl tears. Roxy, pregnant? A hard-to-define emotion ricocheted through him. He looked her way, his eyes automatically zooming to her stomach. “You have…” His voice bottomed out in a way it hadn’t since he was thirteen. Luckily, he doubted either woman heard over the crying girls. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Big news?”
“Huuuuuge news,” Belinda confirmed.
“Interesting news,” Roxy cautioned but then turned and must have caught a hint of where his mind had gone, because she laughed. “Well, no. Not quite as interesting as a baby on the way, but yes, I have some news. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Let me get The Wailing Stevens Sisters Band out of your hair,” Belinda offered, “so you can have some peace and quiet.” She reached into her shoulder bag and handed Roxy some folded bills. “I added to what we agreed on because I had an extra one for you this afternoon.” Then, in what West could only describe as Drill Sergeant Mom voice, Belinda said, “Hope Elizabeth, Faith Ann, and Gracie Alexandra, dry those eyes and gather up your things. I want three heartfelt ‘thank-yous’ to Miss Roxy before we go, or we’re not stopping at Micky Dees on the way home.”
West didn’t know if it was the tone or the threat of no Happy Meals that motivated the girls, but in the next instant the sobbing stopped, guitars found their cases, shoes found feet, and Roxy received a hug and kiss from each girl as the troop marched out. After a final round of good-byes called from the top of the steps, Roxy closed the door, turned, and leaned against it. “Whew. Miss Roxy might not have known what she was getting into when she agreed to give guitar lessons.”
He approached, braced a forearm beside her head, and brought his face close to hers. “Good energy, huh?”
She managed a smile. “Sorry if the energy reached maximum intensity this afternoon. I was trying to find ways to get some of it out, and the lesson went long on account of Belinda’s appointment. Next week we should finish before you get home.”
“It’s not a problem,” he told her. “Now that I know you’re not being attacked by a pack of wild hyenas, I’ll pay it no mind.” He ran his fingertip over her forehead. “I guess it’s safe to assume this is the only bump we’re dealing with, but I take it you also got good news from Ellie?”
“She cleared me to return to work at the diner, half-time for the first week, and then back to normal.”
He leaned in and lightly kissed the bruise. “That is good news.”
“There’s more.” Slim fingers curled into his belt loops. “We went to DeShay’s to fill Addy in, and Earl happened by. He told me a certain officer with the Bluelick Police Department encouraged him to install lights behind the pub and add some security cameras. Then he offered me full sick pay for my missed dates and a twenty-five dollar a night raise to come back and play on Wednesdays and Fridays once everything is in and tested.” The fingers at his waist tugged him closer. “How can I possibly express my gratitude?”
His capability to reason got a little foggy. “All part of the service, ma’am.” She looked different with all the makeup on—a very convincing version of the rock star she’d been pretending to be. She smelled different, too—like hairspray and bubblegum. It was a little disorienting.
“I do appreciate it, though. I appreciate your help. I appreciate you caring about safety.” She leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his chest. “Maybe I appreciate it a little extra because I haven’t had someone looking out for me that way in a while.”
“Get used to it.” If only she would. He took a deep breath to clear the effects of her nearness out of his head. “This is all good news, but I don’t think it meets Belinda’s criteria of huge news. What else have you got?”
“Maybe nothing.” She dropped her gaze to his throat and fiddled with the top button of his uniform shirt. “It’s only potential good news, really.”
He captured her restless fingers and threaded them through his own. “Then I’m potentially happy for you. Why don’t we sit down, and you can tell me about it?”
She nodded and led them over to her small couch. Lucky followed. As soon as they sat, the pup leaped up and wormed his way into the space between them, head on Roxy’s thigh, tail thwacking West’s knee.
Roxy absently scratched between his ears. “When Earl caught up with me at DeShay’s today, he gave me the name and number for a man who’d called Rawley’s looking for me. According to Earl, the guy claimed to be a music producer interested in one of my songs—I should probably back up here and explain that, unbeknownst to me, Jeb posted some videos of my performances on the pub’s social media sites. This man, J.T. Turner—”
“Want me to look into him?” As if he wouldn’t check either way, but making the offer felt better than wondering why his heart suddenly wanted to beat its way out of his chest. This could be the opportunity Roxy dreamed of. Was he happy for her and trying to do what he could to help, or was he hoping the guy was some kind scam artist he could push out of her path?
“I…uh…” She glanced over and offered him a sheepish smile. “I guess
