Page 88 of Hope & Harmony

“No, probably not.” I paused. “Don’t you miss it? If nothing else, the music?”

He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sometimes? I still play a little guitar and write songs, but I write under a different name, so very few people know it’s me. I can’t do the touring thing forever, so that’s my retirement money.”

I was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness for him.

Everyone knew the story of the horrific bus crash that had killed the other members of his band, along with Ross’s fiancée, the band’s tour manager, and the driver. Somehow, Ross had emerged unscathed, and he’d walked away without a backward glance, according to everything I’d read.

Not that I could ask him.

“Go ahead,” he said after a moment. “I can see all the questions you don’t want to ask. It’s all over your face. Let’s get it over with. That way, we can both move on.”

I flushed, a bit embarrassed at having been caught.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ve already made a nuisance of myself. We can talk about something else.”

He cocked his head. “Tell you what. You ask me any question you want, and then I get to ask you one.”

“All right.” I took a sip of coffee. “What was your favorite song on the album?” Ross & The Rockets only had one.

“Easy,” he said with a faint smile. “The best song on the album was ‘City Love’. And ironically, it’s the only one I didn’t write on my own. We wrote that one as a band and it’s always been my favorite.”

“That’s my favorite too,” I said. “I play it in the car on the way to work. Pumps me up to get ready for my day.”

“That’s nice to hear.” He met my gaze. “Somehow, I can picture it. You driving something small, like a Mini Cooper, radio blasting, and singing at the top of your lungs.”

I threw my head back and laughed, amazed at his astuteness.

“That’s funny. Because Idodrive a Mini Cooper, it’s bright red, and I absolutely blast the stereo whenever I’m out and about.”

“You have long legs for a little car like that,” he said lightly, his eyes meeting mine.

Was it dumb that the fact that he’d noticed my legs made me a little giddy?

And why did my heart beat faster whenever he looked at me?

“It’s, uh, roomier than it looks.”

I was being ridiculous.

This wasn’t a date; he was just being nice after how abrupt he’d been earlier.

No matter how giddy my pre-teen heart felt, the thirty-three-year-old woman controlling my brain knew better.

“So, what’s your question for me?” I asked as casually as I could manage.

The way I was feeling made no sense.

I’d been around rock stars for years. My sister had been involved with one since she was eighteen and was married tohim once again now. I’d hooked up with a guy in one of their opening acts several years ago, and we’d dated for about a year before I caught him cheating on me.

Celebrities were nothing new to me, but Ross was different.

I’d been eleven years old when the Ross & The Rockets album came out.

My mother had played it nonstop for months.

My younger sister Harley and I knew every word to every song.

But while Harley had always been infatuated with drummers, I’d fallen for Ross.

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