The Ex Factor - Erin McCarthy Page 0,8

big old jackass who couldn’t handle that she was more famous than he was. But he honestly didn’t think that’s what it was. He was proud of how hard she worked. He just didn’t want to be an… afterthought.

And he knew she’d gotten everything all on her own. He’d been given a boost by virtue of his birth. So, while he was damn impressed with her, he was also uncertain who the hell he was in this business. It was complicated shit, made more complicated by his feelings for her.

Jolene waved to the guard at the gates and pulled forward when he opened them for her. Her house was a Tuscan style, which always struck him as a little odd. It spoke neither of Tennessee or of her personality, but it was pretty, no question about it. He was feeling enough on edge that he wanted to wait in the truck, but he hadn’t lost all the manners his nanny had taught him. He couldn’t sit there like a total asshole while she went and collected his dog.

He opened the door for her and let her go first. She shot him a look of wariness. “Hey, Elle, it’s me,” she called as they moved down the marble hallway toward the back of the house.

Her sister popped out from the kitchen. “Hey, sissy. Oh, and hey, Chance. How are you?”

It wasn’t the most enthusiastic greeting he’d ever gotten, but not the worst either. “Hey, Elle. Good to see you.”

“Y’all changed your mind about forced confinement? That’s probably wise.” She was eating a granola bar and wearing a T-shirt that said “My Give a Damn is Busted.”

That seemed about right for Elle. “Sorry to bother you. We just came to pick up Dolly. We had a little misunderstanding about her.”

Jolene snorted.

“She’s out back chasing squirrels.”

“Sounds like you,” he said to Jolene because he couldn’t resist. “Chasing tail.”

Her jaw dropped. “I don’t chase tail. Tail comes to me and begs for attention.” She spoke with the regal arrogance of the country pop queen she was.

He let out a bark of laughter. The poke had been unfounded but her reaction amused him. He took a step closer to her and was gratified to see her stiffen. “What happens if I beg? Do I get a treat?”

Her tongue slipped out and moistened her bottom lip. She looked a little nervous, her hand fluttering over her chest. “It depends on how obedient you are,” she said, her voice husky and low.

Damn. That’s what he was talking about. Still as sexy as ever.

“Oh, Lord,” Elle said. “I’m still here, you know.”

He ignored her and reached up to the touch the plump center of Jolene’s dewy lip with the pad of his thumb. “I think we both know obedience isn’t my best trait. But you think I’m cute, admit it.”

“Cute isn’t the word I would use,” she murmured. “Maybe dirty.”

Amen to that. His cock went hard.

“Gross,” Elle said. “I’m getting the dog and then you two need to go on about your business. I said I’d house sit, not watch you make a baby.”

Chance stepped back from Jolene. He loved that she didn’t back down from a challenge. It was one of the many things he loved about her. Love. God, he couldn’t go there in his head. He had been attracted to Jolene from the first second he’d laid eyes on her, and love had developed over time, simmering on low burn, until the flames had consumed him. He hadn’t known what to do with feelings that intense.

He still didn’t.

Didn’t make it right, though.

He could smell her fruity shampoo and that light teasing perfume she always wore, and it made him want to bury his fingers in her wavy hair and take her mouth with his, coaxing those little sighs of pleasure from her that he heard in his sleep every night. He wanted to strip her slowly, and taste every familiar inch of her. He wanted her to remember him. To remember why they’d been so good together, both in bed and in the recording studio.

But he would restrain himself. He had to. Because remembering didn’t change anything. No use going down the same dead-end road twice. It was a waste of gas.

Turning around, he spoke to Elle. “I’ll get Dolly, thanks, Elle. Jolene, why don’t you grab the dog food?”

“Grab the dog food,” she mimicked, making a face.

That actually surprised him. Why the hell did she look so sour? “What? Was that rude?” Sometimes he