Sweet Memory

Book 1: The Painted Daisies

by LJ Evans

Genres: Action & Adventure Romance; Contemporary Romance; New Adult Romance; Romantic Suspense; Friends to lovers; Second Chance Romance; coming of age; contemporary romance; first love; slow burn; opposites attract; rockstar romance; multicultural romance

Synopsis

“You’re not just enough. You’re everything!” – Jonas

My sister calls him trouble. All she sees is a novice producer with a dark past. But Jonas is the only man who’s defended me. The only one who’s seen the real Paisley underneath the sweet rock star the world put on an innocent pedestal. Returning to Grand Orchard to record our next album means we’ll finally be together.

 

And now that I have my broody protector to myself, I won’t give him up.

 

Not for my sister. Not for the band.

 

Not even when a stalker demands I do so in ugly red paint.

 

Until the worst happens.

 

When I lose my sister, and Jonas might be the reason, I cut ties and run.

 

It takes me two years to find the strength to pull the band back together and to finish what my sister started.

 

When we arrive at the studio, completing the record may be the band’s goal, but mine is a secret.

 

I’m here to make the person who took Landry pay.

 

What I’m not prepared for is Jonas stepping in to shield me once again.

 

Or for the love I’d buried to reemerge from the ashes.

 

Is there a way to recover what we lost?

 

And will it be enough to keep us safe when the danger resurfaces?

Release date: March 15, 2023

Publisher: LJ Evans Books

Print pages: 440

Sample

Chapter 1

Paisley

 

CRYING UNDERWATER

Performed by Dami Im

 

TWELVE DAYS BEFORE

Paisley’s emotions roller-coastered back and forth from high to low as she watched the apple orchards on the outskirts of Grand Orchard come into view. Frenzied excitement spread through her, the anticipation twisting in her chest until it physically hurt. She was going to see Jonas again! For the first time in two years! Just as quickly as the happiness came, it was swallowed by doubts that turned her stomach. What if it wasn’t the same? What if the easy banter they’d found in texts and an occasional phone call disappeared in person? What if she wasn’t what he expected?

Paisley’s finger pressed automatically into the raised, star-shaped birthmark by her eye as a tap, tap, tap of metal against metal drew her gaze from the view outside the Escalade to her sister. Landry had her hands in prayer mode with the rings on her two middle fingers beating out a rhythm. Tall, thin, and willowy with a sharply pointed chin, enormous eyes, and black hair cascading past her shoulders, Landry had an almost fairy-like vibe.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Landry asked, the huskiness of her tone a complete contrast to her fragile appearance.

Early in their career, a critic had said Landry’s voice was better suited to life as a phone-sex operator instead of a singer. The intended cruelty of those words had turned Paisley’s stomach even when they hadn’t been directed at her. But not Landry. It had motivated her to prove him wrong. When they’d won their Grammy last year, her sister had sent the man a picture of her holding it with a middle finger extended.

“Nothing’s going on. I’m fine,” Paisley responded. Whereas Landry’s voice was deep and husky, Paisley’s was light and feathery―barely a whisper.

“Try not to get your hopes up, Paise. It’s easy to pretend to be nice and calm and have your shit together in a fifty-word text.” Landry’s comment snagged at Paisley’s doubts and irritation flared deep inside her.

Instead of getting into another one of their ever-increasing number of fights, Paisley bit her lip and pushed harder into her birthmark. She wasn’t sure if Landry really didn’t like Jonas, or if she just didn’t want Paisley to have a life outside the band.

Landry hadn’t objected when three-quarters of the songs they were set to record had come from her texts with Jonas. The lyrics put Paisley’s heart on display in a very uncomfortable way. They’d exposed her underbelly to her sister and the band. What would happen when the world got them?

Paisley’s chest squeezed tighter, a prick of ice spreading through her veins as panic started to bloom, but her sister’s next words replaced the ice with fire.

“You deserve someone better than a boy who was arrested for assault.”

“He was never charged!” Paisley exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest and trying futilely to stop herself from pushing into her birthmark again.

“He has anger issues, Paise. Someone like that will never change, and I don’t want to see you lying on the ground because of his shitty past,” Landry said.

“Oh my God, you act like he assaulted someone for simply looking at him wrong. He got in a fight with an asshole gang member who was beating his friend. You should be applauding him for standing up for someone he cared about.”

“He didn’t have to resort to violence,” Landry said, a hardness in her voice that made Paisley’s stomach twist again.

Before this year, she and Landry had rarely been on opposing sides of an argument. Mostly because Paisley knew her sister was always right, whereas she was the girl who’d barely gotten her G.E.D. But her sister was wrong about Jonas. Nothing Landry could say would convince Paisley otherwise.

“Look. I didn’t want to show you this before, but you really leave me no choice,” Landry pulled her phone out and handed it over.

It took a minute for Paisley to figure out what it was, and when she did, she inhaled sharply. The picture was one she treasured. It was the entire band with her and Jonas front and center on the stage in the Wilson-Jacobs Theater after they’d finished recording The Red Guitar album two years ago. They’d put on a little show as a thank-you to the people of Grand Orchard, and she’d called Jonas up on stage to sing the song he’d been instrumental in helping her shape.

Normally, when she was on stage, she felt like she was going to puke, at least until the music and lyrics centered her. But when Jonas had joined her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, she’d felt a steadiness she’d never felt before. Not even when Landry held her hands and pressed her cool metal rings into her skin to ground her.

But this version of the picture was all wrong. Where each of the band members' faces should have been, huge gouge marks existed, and scrawled over their bodies in red ink were the words, “I will make sure you’re never happy.”

“What is this?” Paisley asked as she shot a glance toward the front seat and their two bodyguards.

“An example of what his life can do to you.”

Paisley’s heart thumped fiercely in her chest, as the ice returned. Her voice was barely audible as she asked, “All of our faces are scratched out. All of us. How can you be sure this is about Jonas?”

“We haven’t received another one like it since we left Grand Orchard. His past came calling and briefly caught us in the crossfire. He’s bad news, Paise.”

The cold was spreading through her, turning her body to stone. Jonas would be devastated if he knew about this. He’d take the blame and swallow it whole. He’d stay away…

God, she didn’t want that. She’d been waiting for two years for them to be together. She couldn’t tell him, could she? But how could she not?

You’re so stupid. I thought you were supposed to be smart. What happened to you? Is that mark from where they sucked your brains out?

The taunts circled through her head, making a new wave of doubt fly through her. As the chants repeated in an unbreakable circle, her finger pressed deeper and deeper into the star birthmark.

Her cell phone vibrated, and even before she picked it up, she knew who it was.

JONAS: Are you here? ***Excited GIF***

Her heart convulsed, joy at the thought of seeing him rippling over the fear and panic. She couldn’t tell him. It would ruin everything. But there was also no way she could see him tonight like they’d originally planned because he’d take one look at her and know something was up. Just like he’d known when she’d called him from a roof top in Sydney.

Before she could respond, Paisley’s phone went wild with a string of texts in the band’s group chat.

FEE: Did Ramona get lost? I swear you should’ve been here by now.

ADRIA: Don’t mind her, she’s hangry and missing you.

LANDRY: We were only apart for a couple of days, Fee.

Paisley and Landry were the last of the band to arrive after spending the weekend with their parents at their cousin’s wedding. It had been a nightmare, renewing their parents’ desire to see her and Landry settled with good Korean boys who had steady, reliable jobs, and intensifying the divide between Landry and their parents.

LEYA: She’s got a whole girl’s night planned. Pedicures and facials and romcom movies.

FEE: It was supposed to be a surprise, Ley’.

Even panicked and scared by what her sister had shown her, Paisley couldn’t hold back the small smirk she sent Landry’s way at the text exchange with their friends.

NIKKI: If you’re not here soon, the food will get cold.

“How much longer?” Landry asked their two bodyguards.

“Ten minutes tops,” Ramona answered from the driver’s seat while Dylan scanned the orchards as they flew by. These two muscled and honed guards were their personal detail. After the band’s popularity had exploded while on tour, they’d had to double their security. Now, none of them went anywhere without a bodyguard in tow.

JONAS: It was the GIF, right? It was totally over the top, and you’re now questioning the wisdom of seeing me again.

She swallowed hard. The ugly image on Landry’s phone spun in front of her eyes again. She didn’t know how she could see him and not tell him, and if she told him, he’d pull away because he wouldn’t risk her in order to be with her.

PAISLEY: The GIF is exactly how I’m feeling. If anything, it proved just how perfectly in sync we are. I can’t wait to see you. Unfortunately, Fee has a whole thing planned for tonight that I didn’t know about and can’t get out of.

JONAS: Dang. Okay. Well, we’ve waited two years, so I guess twelve hours is nothing.

PAISLEY: A mere blip.

The toss and turn of her stomach continued, disappointment spreading through her. She wanted to see him. Almost desperately needed to. As if she wouldn’t be able to breathe much longer if he wasn’t there. No picture was worth not being with him.

She turned to her sister and said quietly with a certainty she rarely felt and even less frequently showed, “He works at the studio, Lan, but even if he didn’t, I’d see him. He doesn’t deserve to have his past held over his head any more than you deserve to have your bisexuality held against you, or I should have my dyslexia held against me.”

Landry grimaced. “That’s not even remotely the same. That’s part of our DNA. His issues are about his choices.”

Jonas’s childhood had impacted him almost as much as their chemical makeup. It was why he reacted the way he did, but the set of her chin let Paisley know she wasn’t going to change Landry’s mind. Not today. Maybe never.

“Did you tell the others about it?” Paisley asked.

Landry shook her head. “No. It seemed unnecessary.”

Paisley didn’t agree, but she wouldn’t argue with Landry anymore today. The one about Jonas was enough to make her chest hurt and her stomach feel like it had turned into a briar patch with the thorns darting into her intestines.

They were silent as they drove the last few miles to the mansion the townspeople of Grand Orchard affectionately called The Farmhouse. It was a sprawling, early-twentieth-century Victorian tucked between the apple orchards and the mountains with a wraparound porch and more rooms than you could count.

The best part of the property was the pond, aptly named Swan River for the bevy of birds that called the tules and cattails home. The smooth waters had cast a spell over Paisley the last time they were there, easing her anxiety more than the swing set in their childhood backyard ever had.

Ramona hung a left onto a long gravel drive in the middle of the apple trees and eventually the house with its white planks and black shutters came into view. Paisley’s eyes immediately landed on the porch swing where she and Jonas had once sat arguing about bands and music and lyrics. Her heart jumped at the memories as well as the thought of seeing him again, a rhythm beating inside her that she needed to capture on her keys. A song called, “Anticipation.”

When the car came to a stop in the drive, Fiadh was waiting for them on the top step. She’d added a layer of lilac to her dark-red curls recently, which made them shimmer as they danced about, as wild and fiery as she was. The sunlight glinted off her diamond-studded nose ring as a large smile spread across her face.

They were barely out of the car before Fee had scurried across the circular drive to wrap them in a hug, bouncing the three of them around like a pogo stick.

“God, I missed you,” she said, the pale dusting of freckles on her face shimmering in the sunset.

“Fee, I can’t breathe.” Landry’s grouse was half-hearted, and Fiadh just laughed, squeezing even harder before letting them go.

They moved from the porch into the house, and Paisley’s pulse spiraled again as more memories flooded her. The darkly stained walnut staircase was where she and Jonas had sat discussing the track order for The Red Guitar, and the antique, claw-footed, floral couch was where he’d tickled her until she couldn’t breathe as they argued about Pink Floyd. The fake British accent he’d used to critique it had made her laugh until her sides hurt. It hit her hard in the chest with a longing she could barely contain.

“I tried to get them to wait to eat, but Leya and Nikki feigned starvation.” Fiadh said as she led them down the hallway into the renovated kitchen. It was a deep contrast to the old charm of the rest of the house. Modern and chic, it had stainless-steel appliances, marbled countertops, and gray, distressed cabinets.

“Damn it, get your hands off my fries, Leya!” Fee groused, pouncing on the table and ripping the bag from Leya’s hands.

Leya rolled her eyes and threw a fry in Fiadh’s direction. Fee just laughed, brushing it away as Nikki, Leya, and Adria took turns hugging Paisley and Landry. When they were all tangled together like this, it was hard to tell them apart in the sea of black hair and long legs.

Their first album cover had played up their similarities. They’d worn white leather jackets with their backs to the camera. Only Paisley, who was a good eight inches shorter than the rest of them, and Fiadh, with her deep-red hair, had stood out. The rest could only be told apart by the daisies emblazoned on their jackets. It had been their manager’s idea to emphasize the band’s name by having each of them choose a different daisy type to represent them. Now, the flowers were painted onto their instruments, mic stands, and clothes in a way that made them almost synonymous with their real names.

“Please tell me there’s a veggie burger in that mix somewhere,” Landry said, flinging her purse with her Golden Butterfly daisy embroidered on it over a chair back at the large oak table.

Leya dug through the bags and handed a wrapped burger to Landry.

“You’re lucky Nikki remembered,” Leya said, one artfully shaped brow raising above her twinkling brown eyes, full lips, and cleft chin. “No one is used to you inheriting my vegan ways.”

“Have I told you lately that I like you best,” Landry said, pulling Nikki to her and kissing her cheek.

“Get off,” Nikki said, pushing her away. She hadn’t straightened her hair today, and the dark coils sprung about her perfectly oval face while her dark-brown eyes sparkled with the same humor as Leya’s.

Paisley sat down, grabbing a burger and fries from the middle. She’d put her phone face-down on the table, and it buzzed, vibrating against the wood. Even with no sound, she knew it was another message from Jonas, and her fingers itched to read it, but Landry’s frown stopped her from picking it up.

Adria chuckled at Landry’s glower. “You have to let our little girl grow up, Lan. Dating is just the first step.”

Her comment made Paisley want to scream, both in joy and frustration. Maybe it was because she’d never made it to five feet tall that had them treating her like a little kid, as if her tiny size had halted her growth and held her in some weird, childlike limbo. But she also appreciated Adria trying to defend her, so she sent her a soft smile.

Adria winked in return, the signature wink the world swooned over making her bright-blue eyes sparkle. Her nearly perfect features, along with her model-like figure, had helped her win multiple beauty contests in her younger years.

“I’m a tiny bit jealous of Little Bit,” Fiadh announced. “It’s been too long since I hooked up with anyone.”

“No one is getting hooked up. We’re here to record another Grammy-award-winning album. That has to be the priority,” Landry said, shooting them all a glare but settling the longest on her.

Paisley twirled a French fry between her fingers, the barbed thorns that had appeared in her stomach digging farther into the lining because, as unhappy as it would make Landry, she knew she’d be spending time with Jonas. As much as she could. She’d waited almost two years to see him. Twenty-two months. Nearly seven hundred days. She wasn’t going to ignore him and the way he made her feel no matter what Landry said or the picture she’d shown her. She couldn’t ignore him even if she wanted to. Her heart and body were already beating out a song of expectation, one that wouldn’t stop until it peaked at a breathtaking crescendo.

 

Chapter 2

Jonas

IS THIS LOVE

Performed by Whitesnake

 

ELEVEN DAYS BEFORE

Jonas’s fingers banged viciously on his knees bouncing under the kitchen table. The slightly nauseated feeling in his stomach had nothing to do with the way his four-year-old nephew was shoveling in chorizo quiche and dribbling it on the apron he wore over his tee-ball outfit. Normally, Jonas and Chevelle would be competing to see who could eat the fastest, but today, the waves of expectation churning through him made it impossible to think of eating at all.

“So, recording starts with The Painted Daisies today, right?” Cassidy asked, drawing his eyes to his sister-in-law as she stirred something sweet-smelling on the stove. Blonde-haired with light-brown eyes and pale skin, Cassidy was a fabulous chef and restauranteur.

Jonas rolled his eyes at her question but didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. She knew exactly what was happening today, and it wasn’t because of the texts he’d been exchanging with Paisley Kim for almost two years or the fact that he’d been working at Brady’s studio for the same amount of time. It was because his foster brother―Cassidy’s husband―had been working for days on the additional coverage needed for the band’s protection while in town.

Marco walked into the room just as Cassidy placed a plate in front of Jonas. It was a crepe with pieces of strawberries arranged to make a smiley face. There were chocolate chips for eyes and a dish of chocolate sauce off to the side. It was the breakfast she normally made Chevelle to cheer him up after he lost a game.

Marco chuckled, and Jonas rolled his eyes again before saying, “You’re all ridiculous.”

But really, his heart and eyes stung because it was sweet. It reminded him of how lucky he was to have so many people in his corner these days. If someone had asked eight-year-old him if he’d ever have this kind of family, he would have replied with a pained and emphatic, “No.”

“Mama, I want smiley cakes!” Chevelle whined as soon as he saw Jonas’s crepe.

Cassidy ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head. “You need protein to help you hit another home run today. So, eat your eggs!”

While Chevelle pouted, Cassidy went back to the stove, and Marco joined her, sliding his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. It was a sickening display of ooey-gooey love that happened on an almost hourly basis between them.

Jonas passed the plate of crepes to Chevelle, whose eyes grew wide before his tiny face broke out into a huge smile. He was the cutest dang kid Jonas had ever met. Not that he’d been around a lot of kids before he’d moved to Grand Orchard with Marco, but still.

Jonas put a finger to his lips and winked at Chevelle, who shot a look in his parents’ direction before diving in. Jonas watched as Marco rested his chin on Cassidy’s shoulder and settled his hands on her stomach protruding from her dress. To Jonas, she looked like she was going to burst any day. It had been sort of mind-boggling and awe-inspiring to see how her body had changed over the last nine months.

But then, women in general tended to confound him, which only set his knee bouncing at a more furious pace as his thoughts returned to the one woman he was both excited and nervous to see again. The woman who’d been haunting his dreams and messages for two years. The woman who’d taken a broken and beat-up heart and slowly mended it with her friendship.

Marco let go of Cassidy and sat down at the table, eyeing Jonas and then his son, who was now covered in chocolate. Marco’s lips twitched, but he didn’t scold either of them. He was an even bigger sucker for the kid than Jonas was. Chevelle might not have been Marco’s son by blood, but they were undeniably a family.

Jonas’s knee hit the underside of the table as it bounced, making all the dishes clatter and bang. Three sets of eyes turned to take him in. Marco’s were full of concern, the teasing all but forgotten.

“What’s wrong?” his brother asked as his dark brows drew together, making him look more grim-faced Aztec than normal.

Cassidy shot Jonas a soft smile, coming to stand beside Marco and resting her hand on his shoulder. Marco’s tan arm skated around her waist, drawing her closer, almost as if he didn’t even realize he’d done it. Jonas’s heart banged harder, wondering if what he felt for Paisley was anything close to what these two shared.

“Our Jonas is in love,” Cassidy teased.

Marco’s frown grew. Jonas wasn’t sure what he felt could be considered love, especially when he’d never even kissed Paisley. But he was drawn to her and admired her not only for her beauty and her music but also for the strength she showed every time she stepped onstage. Only a handful of people knew how hard it was for her to do just that.

“Jo-Jo―” Marco started, but he stopped when he saw Jonas grimace at the nickname.

Marco rarely used it anymore. It made him feel like a child when he was anything but. He was going to be nineteen in a few weeks, which wasn’t necessarily a full-grown adult, but he wasn’t a fucking kid either. He wasn’t sure he’d ever really been one.

“I know. I know. She’s a fu―flipping rock star,” Jonas said. “And I’m not in love. We’re friends, and I’m excited to see her.”

“You’re excited to see Maliyah when she comes into town. I don’t think it’s quite the same,” Cassidy continued to tease.

Marco chuckled, and Jonas fought another eye roll. Comparing his foster mom to Paisley was as ridiculous as the smiley-faced crepes. Unable to take their knowing looks and his nervous anticipation any longer, he pushed away from the table.

“I’m going to La Musica. I don’t know how late I’ll be, but I’ll text you.” He ruffled Chevelle’s brown hair as he walked past. “Have a good game, buddy. Remember to have fun and not keep score.”

Then, he left, ignoring Marco’s worried look while attempting to calm the knots churning in his stomach.

♫ ♫ ♫

To keep his mind occupied and his nerves in check while he waited for Paisley to arrive with the rest of the band, Jonas went to work wiring the mics in the studio’s live room. He couldn’t deny he’d been disappointed when she’d changed their plans the night before. He’d thought they’d have a couple of hours alone before having to face everyone. But now, their reunion would be during their first rehearsal. A rehearsal they certainly didn’t need, but Brady had insisted on. He wanted to hear all the songs together before they started laying down the individual tracks.

The wiring wasn’t complicated, but it was intense as the band was known not only for their unique lyrics and rhythms but the variety of instruments they played. Paisley was almost exclusively on the keyboard, but she could—and did—play guitar on occasion. Her sister, Landry, was the opposite. She played guitar most of the time and drifted to the keys to back up Paisley. Adria was their drummer. Nikki played a range of guitars, fiddle, and ukulele, but spent most of the time on bass guitar. Leya was known for a whole host of instruments from India, but she predominately used the baby sitar. And then there was Fiadh, who was probably the most musically gifted of them all with the largest range, including the piano, guitar, banjo, accordion, tin whistle, Irish flute, Uilleann pipes, and the Celtic harp. She changed instruments with almost every song, sometimes within the songs themselves.

Jonas purposefully left Paisley’s keyboard for last, but it still didn’t lessen the shock when he finally stood behind it, eyeing the soft-pink Sweet Memory daisy painted on it. His insides flopped and clenched as he rested a palm on the flower, remembering like it was yesterday the way his hand had felt pressed against Paisley’s for a single moment years ago.

Before he’d come to Grand Orchard, he'd thought he’d been in love with his friend Mel. She’d been stunning and vivacious. Powerful and smart. The kind of dynamic personality you knew was going to end up going places. It had radiated from her, and he’d been caught in her bright, shiny rays from the day they’d met at age nine.

But after Jonas had left Texas, it had been his attraction to Paisley that had shown him how wrong he’d been. There was no way he could have loved Mel in a romantic sort of way if he’d been drawn to Paisley only days later.

Something about Paisley’s quiet energy and soft voice pulled at pieces deep inside him. Every time they talked, it was as if he found a little more of himself. Add in the jolts of energy that drifted through him whenever they’d touched, and he knew he’d never really loved Mel.

There’d been plenty of times over the last two years where Jonas had wondered if he’d imagined everything he’d felt with Paisley. Maybe when he saw her again, all of those feelings would no longer exist, but he didn’t think so. He thought they’d be a flame that would be hard to put out.

The door of the live room bounced open, hitting the padded wall, and Jonas’s hand slipped from the keyboard, heart going from zero to sixty in a mere nanosecond. But it was only Paisley’s sister, Landry, who entered. Her dark eyes glared at him, and the knots in his stomach returned. She’d never liked the bond she’d seen growing between Paisley and him, and while part of him understood it, most of him just resented it.

Landry flicked her long hair over a shoulder, glanced toward the studio’s front door where the other members of the band were filtering in, and then stepped close enough to talk without the others hearing.

“If I had my way, you wouldn’t be anywhere near my sister. Instead, I’ll make this perfectly clear. Hurt her, and I’ll end you,” Landry hissed.

Jonas’s eyes went wide, and his fists clenched, nails biting into his palm as he tried to control the immediate spike of anger that flew through him.

“I have no intention of hurting her,” he growled back.

Fiadh bounced into the room with her riot of curls swirling around her face like that Disney character from Brave. She glanced between Jonas and Landry and rolled her eyes.

“Oh my God, Lan. Please tell me you didn’t say something already.”

Landry ignored her, moving to the guitar Jonas had set up. She ran her hands over it, fingering the strings, adjusting and tuning it by ear.

Fiadh practically danced over to Jonas. She flung an arm around his shoulder and said, “Jonas, Jonas, Jonas. We love, love, love that you helped us create a Grammy-winning album, and we adore the way you make our serious Paisley smile, but we are very protective of our Little Bit. So, get it right the first time, okay?”

“Fee!” Landry snapped, her husky voice going down another notch before shooting Jonas another scowl.

He had to get out of the room before he did or said something he’d regret. He worked hard―with the help of a therapist and the boxing bag in Marco and Cassidy’s home gym―to control his anger these days, and he couldn’t let one person’s dismissal of him undo it. Jonas shrugged Fiadh’s arm off and stalked to the door, almost running into Nikki and Leya as they entered with to-go cups in their hands.

“Sorry,” he said as he stepped around them. He felt their eyes on him as he hurried out of the studio and onto the sidewalk, hating that he’d let Landry get to him.

He leaned up against the building, fighting the well of emotions building inside him and letting the heat of the brick spread through him. He wasn’t that kid from Austin anymore―neither the abandoned child nor the friend who’d been left behind. He was part of a family now. He was loved. One person’s rejection didn’t make him worthless, even if he had a long way to go before he was the man he wanted to be. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and let the warmth soothe him.

He breathed in deeply, pushing down the negative thoughts and the hollow ache of his past. He wanted to be in control when he greeted Paisley. He wanted to show her only the joy she’d brought him with a handful of texts and calls.

“Jonas?” The soft voice was barely a whisper on the wind, but it jolted him out of his thoughts and back to the sidewalk. He hadn’t forgotten the glow that seemed to emanate from her like an angelic halo, but seeing her in real life, after two years of not…it hit him in the chest like an asteroid crashing to earth.

Her straight black hair was looped partially up, and a tendril had escaped, sliding over the soft arc of her cheek. Her lush, black lashes emphasized her brown eyes, making them stand out in her oval face. His gaze landed on her plush, pink lips, lingering there too long and making his body ache to have them pressed against his for the first time.

She was in tight black jeans that clung to her narrow hips, rising high on her waist where a purple crop-top revealed a tiny sliver of her stomach that called to him to touch it. Her tiny frame seemed even smaller now that he’d grown another four inches in her absence. Even in her heeled boots, she barely reached his shoulder.

She had her index finger resting on the star-shaped birthmark right below her eye, giving away her nervousness only to those who knew her best, and it was with a sharp jolt of pride that he realized he did. He knew her. Knew more about her than anyone on this planet―maybe even more than her sister.

Emotions flew through him. Happiness. Hope. Fear. He’d been holding his breath so long, his lungs felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of them, and when he tried to inhale, the air sliced through him.

Her name got caught in his throat as the reality of her being there continued to overwhelm him. Sometimes the other band members called her Little Bit. Her sister called her Paise. He’d done both, but he’d used Paisley the most because she didn’t seem like someone who deserved to have their name shortened. You needed to speak all her syllables to do her justice.

Every single stunning one of them.

 

Chapter 3

Paisley

 

WHAT IT FEELS LIKE

Performed by Natalie Imbruglia

 

Jonas had changed so much it was as if another person stood there. He’d towered over Paisley the summer they’d met, and now he was like a high-rise standing next to a single-story house. It wasn’t just his height. He’d filled out in every possible way, his muscles rippling as he forced himself away from the brick wall and took a step toward her.

His dirty-blond hair was just as thick and wavy as she remembered, curling about his ears and drifting down toward the collar of his T-shirt, not quite grazing it. His face was square and strong with a slight dent in his chin that wasn’t quite a cleft, and his lips had a sharply accentuated Cupid’s bow at the top. But it was his vivid, green eyes that held her gaze the longest. Eyes she could easily lose herself in. Eyes that had always spoken to her, giving her all his secrets while reading hers at the same time.

The look on his face was a mirror-image of the emotions flooding through her. Hope. Excitement. Lust. She wanted to rush into his arms and kiss him. A kiss they’d never shared even though it felt like they’d shared many more intimate moments.

He knew about her bullying, and she knew his mom was in jail.

He knew she got so anxious she almost puked before walking onstage, and she knew he’d let his foster mom down by being arrested.

He knew she’d never been kissed. She knew he’d never had sex.

Intimate, personal secrets. Things you didn’t share with just anyone.

And yet, they’d never even been on a date.

“Hey,” he finally said, a small smile appearing on his face that turned into one so large it stopped her heart. The tray with the two coffees she held slipped and would have hit the ground if he hadn’t swooped in to catch it.

It brought him close enough she could smell him―soap and mint and a hint of something smoky, like a campfire that had burned out. Their arms brushed lightly, and her body lit up. Every single vein strained, vying to be the one closest to him. A rhythm full of lyrics about dancing in the rays of sunlight hit her from nowhere as she basked in his smile.

She felt like crying tears of joy, but she fought them back in order to finally whisper out, “Hi back.”

“You look…” His voice cracked. “Incredible.”

Her smile grew wider.

“You two going to moon at each other all day, or are we going to make some music?” Adria’s voice at the studio door brought them back to where they were, standing outside on the sidewalk.

Paisley’s skin flushed, and she licked her lips, which drew Jonas’s eyes to them. Was it her imagination, or did those bright-green depths turn the color of a dark forest? Jonas ran long, bronzed fingers through his thick hair, making it stick up at odd angles. She wanted to do the same, to drag her hands through the strands while his mouth found hers. While he trailed kisses down her neck and her chest and…

Jonas’s eyes widened with surprise as if he’d heard her thoughts.

She blushed harder as you’re staring like an idiot replaced the other thoughts in her brain, taunting her.

“Paise?” Adria’s voice called out again.

“Coming,” she said, and Jonas’s eyes slid down her body.

He leaned in and whispered in a voice meant only for her, “You and me, Paisley. Alone, tonight.” The low, deep growl made the flush in her cheeks burst into a fiery red, and his face broke into the widest, cockiest grin she’d ever seen on him.

He took the tray from her with one hand and reached down to hook her pinky with his. And with that simple act, it felt as if the million pieces of her that had never fit finally came together. As if she was finally whole.

They walked, fingers tied together, into the live room. Paisley felt giddy, and she had to bite her lip to keep from giggling. For the first time ever, she was there with someone who wanted her―just her.

Her happiness was short-lived as her gaze landed on Landry’s face. Her sister’s expression was irritated. It took Paisley’s pleasure and blew it away, stomach returning to the sea of sharp, thorn-infested vines it had been the day before. As always, she was the one to capitulate, dropping Jonas’s hand. But she felt the loss immediately, like a sucker punch to the gut.

As she moved away from him toward her keyboard, she risked looking back at him. His eyes had become hooded, a fleeting look of disappointment crossing his face as his eyes darted between Landry and her. While she understood her sister’s worries a little better after seeing the creepy picture the day before, without telling Jonas about it, she wasn’t sure he’d ever understand. He’d only see what she’d complained about in the last few months―her sister treating her like a child.

An awkward silence filled the room, causing the rest of the band to shift uncomfortably. It was only broken by Brady O’Neil cruising in. The country-rock legend and producer was just as dynamic as Paisley remembered him. Intense but in a laid-back way that should have been contradictory and yet wasn’t. His blond hair was artfully shaggy, and when his face lifted into a smile, you had no choice but to return it.

“Welcome back to La Musica de Ensueños Studios! We can’t wait to help you create another Grammy-award-winning album.” He gave them all a charming smile, one that a good portion of the world’s population would have drooled over, but all it did was draw Paisley’s eyes back to Jonas. To the quiet strength standing next to him.

Brady didn’t wait for them to respond. Instead, he waved an iPad he was holding. “Jonas and I have listened to all the songs you’ve sent, and we have some ideas for amping them up. Before we lay down any of the individual instrumentals and voice tracks, I’d like to listen to everything together. This way we can work through some of the suggestions, and ensure we’re clear on the message you want each song to deliver as well as the album as a whole.”

And with that, they got to work, playing songs, stopping and talking about them, moving frames and chords around, and starting a list of the tracks on a huge white board. The entire time, she felt Jonas’s eyes on her. A delightful heat and tension built inside her, curling through her body, bubbling over, and creating new songs in her mind. But every time she looked over at her sister and saw the scowl that was growing deeper and deeper, her heart twisted and turned.

Why did the beautiful things she felt for him have to be causing a rift between her and her sister? No matter what Landry thought, Jonas would never hurt her, and even if being with him ended up being a mistake, which she highly doubted, at least she’d have a host of wonderful, grown-up experiences to add to her limited list of them.

The thrum of anticipation she’d felt for days kicked up again, heady and all-consuming, the rhythm of it almost taking over the songs she was supposed to be playing. She had to force herself back to the music in front of her. To focus on the tracks she’d already written instead of the secret ones trying to escape.

♫ ♫ ♫

Hours later, when Brady was satisfied they had a solid handle on the changes and a place to start actually recording the next morning, they broke for the day. The band stood in the control room, making plans for the evening. Paisley’s feet found their way to Jonas. She glanced up into his face, seeing again the way it seemed the same and yet different. Stronger. More mature.

“So, what’s your plan for this evening?” Paisley asked, her voice barely reaching him over the clamor of the rest of the band. Stupid, the taunt rebounded in her head. What’s your plan? Really?

Jonas seemed to weigh her question, dragging his eyes down her and then finding their way back up to her face. Her body responded as it had this morning, turning into a pool of heat and lust and want. She didn’t care where they went, as long as they were alone so she could finally touch him as she’d been dreaming about for years.

Any reply he would have made was lost, however, as Landry said, “I think we should head back to the farmhouse and work through some more of the changes.”

Fee literally rolled her eyes. “We’ve done more than enough for one day. What we really need is a treat, like the insanely good toffee from Sweet Lips Bakery that Nikki and I couldn’t stop craving for months.”

Landry’s scowl increased while Leya teased, “The last thing you need is more sugar, Fee.”

Fiadh flipped her off.

“Fine, we’ll all go,” Landry said, very clearly including Paisley in that arrangement.

When she risked looking at Jonas, his brows were furrowed.

Paisley’s insides clenched. She hated this. Hated keeping secrets from Jonas and fighting her sister. Hated that the one person who’d fought for her when the bullies had come after her and when their parents tried to stop her from being part of the band was now at odds with the man who’d kept her on an even keel over the last year. The man who’d seen her not as a little girl needing shielding, but as the person she’d always wanted to be―brave and strong and resilient.

As if sensing her turmoil, Jonas grabbed her hand, twining their fingers together, and waves of emotions flew through her. A sense of rightness but also a rush of desire that had her skin erupting in goosebumps. Her eyes met his, and she saw the same desire rippling in them but also a layer of concern.

As the band headed for the door, and she went to follow, he held her back.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

She wanted so many things. Him. Them. Bodies twined. But at the moment, she wanted peace. She wanted Landry to get a chance to know him. To understand him. For the picture Landry had tossed at her to be some weird anomaly that had nothing to do with Jonas and just some random, gross fan.

“Maybe it’s better for them to see us together first?” she suggested, softly, more uncertainty filling her that she despised. Why did she always doubt herself?

But Jonas didn’t question her response. He didn’t even hesitate. He just nodded and pulled her toward the door, keeping her hand in his much larger one. As they stepped onto the wooden sidewalk, the July humidity hit them at the same time as a sea of flashing lights and voices.

The press had arrived in droves, and while their bodyguards attempted to hold them back, the crowd pushed forward, and Paisley’s feet stalled.

“Think O’Neil can pull off another Grammy win for you?” one of the reporters called out.

“What’s this album called?”

“What happened with you and Lars Ritter, Fiadh?” one of the reporters asked, saying her name wrong, Fee-uh-duh, instead of Fee-uh.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Fee snapped. “If you’re going to cover our beat, at least get my fecking name right.”

Only those who knew her as well as the band did would catch that Fee’s Irish accent appearing proved just how upset she was―not over the guy getting her name wrong, but over the breakup with Lars that had hit her harder than she let on.

“Fee,” Landry warned quietly.

The reporter was pissed Fiadh had corrected him in front of an audience, and so he tossed out nastily, “Heard Lars tossed you aside because you kissed girls better than guys.”

Fee lunged, but Landry and their bodyguards filled in the space between her and the reporter before there was any contact.

“Calm down. The last thing we need is some shithead suing us. Violence is never the answer. Never,” Landry hissed, dragging their friend toward the SUVs instead of the bakery. Fiadh didn’t respond. She just sent glares in both the reporter’s and Landry’s directions before getting in the vehicle and slamming the door.

“Who’s the guy with Paisley?” another reporter asked.

Paisley’s heart stopped at her name being mentioned. The cameras all seemed to suddenly be focused on her. The flashing sent every nerve ending in her body a message to run. Flee. Hide. But her body was frozen, feet turning into cement blocks. Panic filled her veins like it did right before she stepped onstage. Chest seizing. Lungs forgetting to breathe.

Landry twirled around at Paisley’s name, finding Jonas and Paisley on the sidewalk with their hands joined. She took a step toward them at the same time the reporter risked inching closer.

“Stay back,” their bodyguard, Dylan, told the guy. The man continued to take their picture. Flash after flash after flash. And with each shot, Paisley felt herself retreat farther inside her shell.

Jonas moved, placing his back to the cameras so he was facing Paisley and blocking the reporter’s view of her. His hand holding hers tightened while the other tilted her chin up until their gaze met. “Paisley, sweetheart. Breathe.”

His fingers burned through her skin, but it was the sweetheart that ignited her. The endearment was so tender it made her stopped heart slam back into action.

“I…I…” Her words got locked up in her chest, and her gaze traveled around him to the waiting crowd. The world grew blurry, and the sounds got louder―car engines, clicking cameras, the rustle of clothing.

Jonas’s thumb ran along her cheek. “Hey, look at me.”

Her eyes jolted back to his.

“I’m right here.” His deep voice coasted over her. “Right here. Which way do you want to go? Back into the studio? To the bakery? The cars? You tell me.”

The warmth of his touch started to melt the ice in her veins as she forced herself to focus only on him, forgetting the people shouting her name and the cameras. There was just Jonas. The person who made her laugh and told her she was a fucking rock star. The man whose lips she’d wanted on hers for too long now―with a desperation that was almost painful.

Landry joined them, gaze flickering from their joined hands to Jonas’s fingers on her chin before settling on Paisley’s eyes with a glower. Paisley blushed, wondering if her sister could see just how much she wanted Jonas.

“Let’s not give them a show, shall we?” Landry’s voice was dry and brittle.

It made Paisley’s face heat even more. She wished she could just blink it all away. Her sister. The crush of people. The town. Until there was nothing left but her and Jonas.

 

Chapter 4

Jonas

 

RUN

Performed by Taylor Swift w/ Ed Sheeran

 

Worry flew through him as he watched Paisley in full panic mode. Frozen and yet shriveling up inside. Every protective instinct he’d ever had flared to life. He wanted to pick her up and sprint with her to a place no one would find them, but he could only imagine the looks on everyone’s faces if he did. Instead, he spoke quietly, touching her gently, trying to ground her to where they were and the fact that he wasn’t leaving her. He’d almost gotten her back, pushing past the wall of ice she’d surrounded herself in, when Landry threw out her taunt, raising new alarms.

He didn’t know why Landry was being such a bitch, but it was pissing him off. He snapped at her in reply, “It’s not like I’ve got my tongue shoved down her throat.”

Landry glared at him, and Paisley squeezed his fingers tighter―reassuring him or warning him. He wasn’t sure which.

“We should go back to the farmhouse, Paise,” Landry said.

Jonas ignored her, holding Paisley’s gaze as he asked, “What do you want to do?”

It was a repeat of what he’d asked her inside, but it was the only question that mattered. He could literally feel Landry vibrating with disapproval next to him. She didn’t like him showing Paisley she had options other than just doing what her sister wanted.

“W-would you like to come with us? Maybe?” Paisley asked, hesitant, eyes begging him to say yes as her blush continued to grow. God, she was so beautiful it caused him to lose his voice. All he could do was nod.

Landry huffed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. They’ll see him coming with us, and it’ll get blown out of proportion.”

Jonas clenched his jaw so he wouldn’t respond to her jibe with something he’d regret later, trying not to let her nastiness prevent him from focusing on Paisley.

“Is there a problem here?”

Jonas’s gaze was drawn to Marco’s best friend and partner striding down the wooden sidewalk in front of the studio. Trevor worked for Garner Security along with his brother. While he was normally on Brady O’Neil’s detail, he was playing double duty while the Daisies were in town by covering them along with their regular team.

Trevor’s pale blond eyebrows were scrunched together as he took in the sea of reporters, the bodyguards keeping them at bay, and the SUVs waiting for the last two bandmembers. Trevor’s mere size had a couple of the photographers stepping back as he closed the distance and stopped near Jonas and Paisley. His muscles rippled under the black uniform of cargo pants, T-shirt, and military boots the entire security team wore.

“Why don’t you go with the band,” Jonas suggested to Paisley. “I’ll come and get you at seven.”

“Like a date?” Paisley’s voice was a mere whisper, and her huge eyes were uncertain in a way he didn’t understand. This is what they’d talked about, wasn’t it? Being together. Exploring their connection in real life instead of over a string of messages.

“Absolutely,” he said with a confidence he wasn’t sure he felt.

Landry huffed next to him, but Paisley finally smiled, and it about stole his heart right from his chest.

He let go of her hand as Trevor and Dylan guided the sisters into the waiting vehicles, and Jonas fought every instinct to run after her. When Paisley looked back over her shoulder, her face was flushed, full of hope and trust, and it fucking filled him with pride but also pain.

She had so much faith in him. What if he screwed up? He had a history of doing just that with women he cared about. His mom. Maliyah. Mel. He wanted so badly to get this right. For him and for her.

Once Paisley’s vehicle took off, Jonas headed in the direction of home with Trevor tagging along with him, easily keeping pace with his long strides.

“You know what you’re doing?” Trevor asked.

Jonas shrugged. “Yes… No… Maybe,” he choked out a half-laugh. “I like her, Trev. I don’t want to fuck it up, but…well…I’m still me.”

“I didn’t mean you’d screw it up, Jonas. It’s just…your lives are extremes.”

The fact that Trevor was simply looking out for him tugged at something deep in his chest. But even still, the words burned deep because they were true. It wasn’t like he was thinking of getting married and having kids right now, but he was trying to pull their worlds closer together. He’d gotten his AA in music production and enrolled in bachelor’s classes for the fall. He’d worked his tail off with Brady at the studio, learning the ins and outs. He wanted to believe there was a possibility of something more for him and Paisley, a place where they could belong, where the bond they already had could bloom into something deeper.

“I’m working on it,” Jonas told him and met Trevor’s gaze with a sure one.

For the first time in his life, he might have someone choosing him―choosing to stay―and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure he didn’t fuck it up.