Country Heaven by Ava Miles Page A

bath and bedtime.
    “So what’s your full name going to be when you get your degree?”
    She lifted a shoulder, a tad embarrassed. “Dr. Victoria Simmons.”
    He gave her a slow up and down look that made her jumpy. “Suits you.
    Since that wasn’t worth debating, she walked over to the refrigerator and pointed to the paper pinned with a magnet. “This is the Food Wish List, so you can let me know what you’d like to eat, including snacks and such. I’ll consider it when I make the menu and buy the groceries, but you have to give me a little freedom with the menu planning.”
    “After what I’ve had of your cooking, I trust you.” He took out a pen from his pocket and wrote on the paper while standing up.
    “Veal piccata and taco salad?” she read aloud. “Dr. Pepper and Perrier?”
    “I have an eclectic palate. I’m going to make some calls.” He looked at his watch. “We should be getting to Minneapolis pretty soon. I’ll introduce you to the band tonight before the concert.”
    She straightened the magnet and the paper in a perfect line. “I told you I’m not a fan of country music.”
    “I’d like you to meet everybody anyway. You’ll be running into them, and I like a cohesive tour. Plus, you know you want to see me in concert.” He leaned against the refrigerator and undid the order she’d just achieved.
    It was hard to restrain the eye roll, but she managed. “Who’s cooking for everyone else by the way?”
    “A caterer. They’re good, but nothing like you. Just go once. You’ll be backstage,” he drawled.
    Like that would tempt her. “Fine, I’ll go.”
    “Good. I’ve gotta run. We’ll get to know each other better later.” He sauntered out.
    Get to know each other? What in the world did he mean by that?
    As she watched him leave, she realized he had a great butt.
    Definitely not a thought she needed to be having in these close quarters.
    ***
    Tory was dipping chocolate cupcakes into espresso frosting when Clayton came to take her backstage before the concert. He didn’t have a hat on this time, and he was wearing a gray dress shirt and black slacks.
    “Those look so good they should be illegal,” he said, waving his hand at the cooling rack stacked with cupcakes.
    Taking her knife, she smoothed frosting along the edges of one of them and set it aside. “The receipt from the cab I took to get the groceries is over there,” she said, nodding to the counter. Plucking up a cupcake, she held it out to him with a smile.
    “Oh, Rye’s going to be jealous I had the first taste.”
    “We won’t tell him. So, I’ve never been to a concert before,” she confessed.
    “You’re kidding?” he said, removing the liner from the treat. “Why not?”
    “Just not a priority, I guess. Plus tickets can be expensive.” And money had always been an issue.
    “Well, you’ll have the best seat in the house tonight.” And then he took a bite. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment. “Oh, yeah. I can now see why Rye hired you.”
    They stepped off the bus, Clayton still eating the cupcake, and made their way through a scattering of people, some dragging heavy equipment.
    “It’s always crazy,” Clayton commented when someone almost ran into them. “We have our own set–up crew, but there’s always a local one as well. Coordination can be a challenge.”
    He led her through the back door of the stadium. Groups of people were milling about, shouting back and forth about the lighting. There were wires running everywhere, taped to the scuffed wooden floor by duct tape. Wearing a yellow dress with cowboy boots, Georgia stood in the middle of the madness talking with a man in a suit with some leather–like tie at his neck secured with a silver and turquoise clasp. Tory tried not to ogle their fashion choices as she tugged at her plain red T–shirt.
    Music thrummed in the distance beneath the roar of the gathered crowd. Her eyes widened when she saw the black curtain in front of them.