Page 75 of Sing For Me

She visibly relaxes. “I can’t imagine what that was like. To grow up with one of the most famous musicians in the world as your dad.”

I shrug. “He was just my dad. It was weird when strangers would stop him or take pictures of us when we were together, but it happened from the time I was born so I guess I never really knew another way.”

She gives a little shudder. “I hate the photographers the most,” she mumbles, and I instinctively wrap an arm around her. “I almost passed out when I saw the red carpet at your mom’s gala.”

“Did you have a hard time with them before?” I don’t specify whatbeforemeans but I don’t have to.

“It wasn’t my favorite part of the job,” she admits, giving me a sheepish smile. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of awkward and shy when I’m off stage.”

I bring my lips to the place where her neck meets her shoulder. “You weren’t very shy last night.”

She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling as she pushes me away. “Don’t even think about it, buddy. I’m starving.” She shoots the cutest freaking glare in the direction of the fridge. “If we can’t have pancakes here, I guess we’ll need to go out.”

I had wanted to hole up in the house together all day—preferably naked—but if she’s willing to go out for food I’m not going to complain. I know that’s still not the easiest thing for her. “Do you know a good breakfast place?”

Her entire face lights up and she claps her hands. “Oh my God, yes! Happy Cake is like, ten minutes away. They have twenty different kinds of hot cakes.Twenty, Will.”

I hold out my hand, unable to stop grinning. “Lead the way, honey.”

* * *

I’ve never been muchof a pancake guy. Give me bacon and eggs seven days a week and I’m happy. But that was before I ate pancakes with Eva. She’s in food heaven the entire meal, giving so many appreciative sighs and moans that I want to drag her to the bathroom and pick up right where we left off last night.

I can’t seem to stop watching her—while she eats, while she chats about her sister, who insists on coming to this restaurant every time she visits, while she sips her coffee. Even when her asshole manager calls. She seems at ease and completely confident when she tells him she’s out for breakfast and she’ll talk to him later—nothing like the tense way she’d reacted to seeing him at the gala.

Everything she does is fascinating to me, and I can’t get over how much lighter she seems this morning. Even the crowded dinner doesn’t seem to make her uncomfortable.

I decide right then that I’m never going to be satisfied with just friends. Not with her. I don’t want to push her, don’t want to scare her away, but I know I want more. I can only hope she feels the same way. Regardless, we’re going to have to talk about this. Soon.

She’s laughing at some lame joke I made when we step out of the restaurant, looking up at me. It takes her a moment to see what I’ve just noticed—a swarm of paparazzi rushing towards us, the shuttering of their cameras already going crazy as they begin to shout.

Eva instinctively leans into me, her entire body immediately rigid as she seeks shelter behind my much larger frame. I wrap an arm around her, swearing under my breath, and then the photographers are on us, calling her name over and over, shouting questions about me and her accident and why has she been hiding?

“Will, how long have you been dating Eve?” one of them calls, shoving a microphone in my face. It’s everything I can do to not shove the guy to the ground. I glance down at Eva and see the fear that’s taken over her features and I want to pound my fist into their fucking cameras, knock every one of them to the pavement. They’re scaring her.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” I snarl, pulling her through the crowd toward the safety of my truck.

“Eve, have you met Will’s father yet? What about his uncles?”

“Are the Ransomes helping you with your comeback?”

Jesus. I can feel her body shaking next to mine, her terror a physical thing. Why in the hell had we ever left her bed this morning?

“Let me through,” I bark, not waiting for them to comply. I’m bigger than most of these assholes and I use the arm not holding Eva to push them aside. Shouting down the street tells me that there are more of them coming and I push a little harder, determined to get her to the vehicle.

We make it to open pavement and they run after us, shouting their questions, begging Eva to look up so they can get a shot of her face. I head straight to the passenger side of my truck and open the door, pushing her inside as gently as I can. She resists, clinging to my arm, not wanting to move away from the shelter of my body.

“Let me get you out of here, honey,” I murmur, physically lifting her off the pavement to get her into the truck. “Keep your head down,” I tell her as I shut the door.

They try to swarm me again as I head to the driver’s side and I push one guy away, too hard, causing him to stumble and fall on his ass. Good.

“Get the fuck out of my face,” I snarl at another photographer before I manage to get my door open. I climb inside as quickly as I can and glance over to see Eva hiding her face in her hands. Her shoulders are shaking.

I reach over and pull her seatbelt into place, pressing a kiss to the side of her face, not giving a shit if the paparazzi outside get a shot of it. She’s freaking out and I need her to know that she’s okay, that I’m here.

The truck is surrounded by photographers, taking pictures through the windshield, and I swear to God I’ll run them over if they don’t let us through. Luckily they back out of the way when I rev the engine and I peal off, tires squealing, as soon as I have a clear path.

Once we’re a block away, I reach over and squeeze Eva’s shoulder. “Hey. We’re okay. They’re all gone.” She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even move. The urge to pull her into my arms is overwhelming and I grip her shoulder harder. “I’m right here,” I grit out.