Page 60 of The Bachelor

The look of guilt on Ben’s face showed him he was right. “That takes a lot of damn nerve, Ben.” His voice had gotten louder. The receptionist was watching with wide eyes, her hand on her phone, like she thought she might have to call security. He took his voice down a notch. He wasn’t going to cause a scene.

“I just need a job,” Ben said. “I’m not trying to cause trouble.”

Shane switched tactics. “I’m impressed with your balls, buddy, I have to say.”

Ben looked confused at his jovial tone. “Look, I’ll just call Avery later.”

Shane gave him a casual smile. “No, you won’t.” He clapped Ben on the shoulder, casually, friendly-like. But his grip was tight. “She doesn’t want you bothering her.”

“Maybe Avery should decide if she wants to talk to me or not.”

The guy was both stubborn and stupid. The words Shane spoke were firm, but he kept his tone casual. “I’m going to give you a little advice, Ben. If you cared about Avery at all, you wouldn’t do things like show up at her work or contact her mother, and you need to go home and think long and hard about that. She gave you eight years of her life, give her the courtesy of leaving her alone. If she wanted to talk to you, she’d reach out.”

He didn’t want to throw a punch at Ben, no matter how much the asshole deserved it. The urge, the anger, wasn’t even there, which was an amazing feeling. He only wanted to protect Avery.

He wasn’t his father and he knew that, fully believed it right in that moment.

He’d grown up, become someone entirely different from that angry kid who had been taught to lash out with violence.

Ben stood there for a second, like he was assessing his options before he turned and left the building.

“Who was that?” his sister asked, coming up beside him.

“Avery’s ex-boyfriend, looking for a job.”

Jolene eyed him curiously. “You look very calm.”

“I am. Time and place, sister, time and place.”

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Jolene asked, sounding a little in awe of the idea.

He gave her a grin, amused by her reaction. “Yep. Head over ass, JoJo. I’m going to marry that girl in there if I have anything to say about it.”

Jolene smiled back, reaching out and squeezing his arm. “Holy shit. The bachelor takes a wife.”

That made him laugh. “Sounds like a country hit.”

THIRTY

Avery liked Chance as a person. He was deeper, more intense than Jolene. He spoke less, but when he did, it was always something that mattered. Sure, he bantered with his wife, but with other people, he was fairly reserved, uncomfortable when he was thrust into the spotlight. It was impossible to talk to him or watch his movements without comparing him to herself. They were actually very similar, both in personality and in appearance. He wasn’t a ginger, but they had the same jawline, nose, cheekbones. He held his hands over his guitar the way she did, and stylistically, while he was way better and much more experienced, she could see shades of her own melody-focused writing in his work. He was a genius songwriter and she hoped with training and experience she could become the same.

He was patient with her and didn’t roll his eyes when she asked stupid newbie questions.

After several days of working with him, it was starting to bother her that she could never tell him her suspicions about her parentage. The urge to confess was growing. It would satisfy her questions, but would only raise new ones for Chance and she wasn’t sure that was fair to him. Yet she felt an ache in her heart for family. It was an emotion she hadn’t been expecting. Sadness. Especially when he asked her about her upbringing.

“You sure you’re not from Nashville,” he said, tuning his guitar. “Seems like you were meant to be here.”

“No, but my mother did live her for a while. This is where she met my father.” She couldn’t resist, even though she knew she was strolling into dangerous territory. But considering she had actually at one point contemplated swiping Chance’s coffee cup for DNA testing, she knew she needed answers sooner than later. It might be easier than she thought to just pick her way around it. Let Chance connect the dots. But then she bit her tongue and forced herself to add, “My mom was a caterer looking to make it big in Nashville. It didn’t work out.”

“Did she and your father stay together?” Chance wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at his strings. He sounded conversational, not really super curious.

It was an opening she wanted to resist. She danced around it.

“No. It was a hookup. Turns out he was married.”

Chance looked up and made a face. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to pry.”

“I brought it up.” She shrugged, her heart racing. “My mom said she actually met you when you were little. She worked for the caterer your parents used for their parties and that’s where she met my father.”

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