Page 74 of Rockstar Baby
Maggie leaned forward. “He’s like a music doctor of sorts. Writes, produces, rips apart—and does some playing. It’s more that he knows the ins and outs of songs. Kel is soaking it all up and talking about him constantly. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if he was in love with him.”
“About Rory?”
“Yeah, he’s a little standoffish sometimes, but then he gets like that.” Maggie nodded at the stage.
The three of them were sitting a circle, completely oblivious to us. Each of them was trying to play over the others to put their own spin on the song. Not in a one-upmanship kind of way, but more of an excited brainstorming style.
Like the way I got with an ice cream recipe. I recognized the signs.
Rory was passionate.
Intense.
Fascinating.
Just watching him in his element was intoxicating. This whole day had been so far. I felt as if I was discovering yet another intriguing side to him—and there were already so many.
So, how the hell was I going to get over him when he left?
Fourteen
Supper at HappyAcres was an experience. I still wasn’t sure if it was a good one or bad.
Much like the day itself.
I had to give Ivy a lot of credit. She’d rolled with the rockstar hits all day long and had scarcely blinked. For someone who hadn’t guessed what my career was, she’d adapted remarkably well. She’d barely squealed or fangirled at all. Except for her rightful indignation at my omissions, she’d been cool about everything. So much so that it was hard not to feel like a moron for thinking she couldn’t handle our differences.
And she hadn’t swooned at the sight of either Ian or Kellan, who, let’s face it, were easy on the eyes. Or so I’d been told. I couldn’t claim to fancy them myself.
We’d definitely worked up an appetite. Handy, since the folks at Happy Acres ate early. And they ate a lot. The huge farmhouse table was weighed down with enough plates and dishes to feed a small country. Which was saying plenty since Ian alone could clear half the bowls without help.
“I’m eating for three.”
“Three?” I nearly choked on my slab of apple-peach pie. It wasn’t a piece. I swore Laverne, the proprietress of Happy Acres, had served me roughly a quarter of it. “Zoe, you didn’t let him plant twins in you.”
Zoe rolled her eyes. “No. There’s just one, although he’s roly-poly. But Ian likes to claim he’s eating for all three of us.”
Laverne patted Ian’s shoulder as he sprayed whipped cream on his second piece of pie. “He’s a growing boy. We love feeding him here.”
“Glad you do, since our grocery bill can barely handle him.” Zoe shook her head.
“The baby is a boy?” I don’t know why the question stuck in my throat. Or how I’d missed that information.
Ian rolled his eyes. “I already told you. Probably five times. He does not listen. Ivy, I hope you have patience with this one. He lives in his head and doesn’t invite guests.”
Ivy smiled weakly and poked at the crust of her pie. She’d barely eaten a thing. “I can play things close to the vest too, so I’m okay with it.”
That was what she said, but I was fairly certain she wasn’t truly okay with any of this. Despite her smiles and laughter, and how she’d enjoyed the music and spent time with my friends, I could tell she had a lot on her mind.
Maggie snorted and fed a spoonful of apple goo to Wolf in his high chair at her side. “You think he’s tight-lipped, Ivy? You didn’t know Kellan a couple of years ago. At least Rory is polite. Kellan just grunted and growled.”
He slid his arm around the back of her chair. “Is this where you tell them I was changed by the love of a good woman?”
“Or a bad one.” She fluttered her lashes and made the whole table laugh.
Even me.
It was hard not to relax around this group. If it wasn’t Ian’s antics or his impromptu jam sessions, or Kellan cutting up with his son, it was Laverne chasing the family dog, Lola, and trying to pry shoes out of her mouth. She’d welcomed all of us at some point in the day by snatching a sandal or sneaker and bounding off.
