“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.” She stared down into her mug, swirling marshmallows with her spoon and trying not to lose herself in Logan’s brown eyes.
“It’s a compliment. Life would be boring without some variety to spice things up.”
“Are you saying I’m spicy?”
“You’re an acquired taste.”
“I’ll have to agree with you there.” She snorted into her cocoa. “Most people don’t stick around long enough to find that out.”
“Their loss.”
“Shhh!” Wylder leaned forward. “Someone’s coming down.” She shot up and hobbled behind the sofa.
“Are you hiding?” Logan chuckled.
“Yes, pretend like you’re sleeping.” She peeked over the edge of the couch. “Seriously, lay down, Logan.”
“Wylder?” Beckett called as he crept down the stairs. “You better not be down there.”
“It’s just me and the shadows,” Logan called back.
“Ouch!” Becks hollered, hopping on one foot. “Stupid curved railing. I swear I’m going to take an axe to it one of these days.” Becks limped into the living room.
“Do you even own an axe?” Logan stirred his hot chocolate, clinking his spoon against the mug.
“No. Nicky won’t let me have one.” Becks limped into the kitchen, and Wylder shifted farther into the shadows of her hiding spot.
“Can’t sleep either?” Logan leaned back, sounding cool and at ease, while Wylder squirmed, her heart pounding. All she needed was Becks finding her here with Logan, and she’d never hear the end of it.
“Thirsty.” Becks reached for the tower of hot chocolate. “Hey, someone took my last cocoa.” Becks darted a glare at Logan.
“Oh, was that yours?” Logan’s voice held a hint of his laughter.
“Yes, it was mine. It had my friggin name on it, Cook.” He snapped one of the other flavors into the machine, grumbling about not refilling the water.
“Sorry about that.” Logan sipped his white hot chocolate, and Wylder hoped her brother wouldn’t notice the two missing K-Cups from the tower.
“Where are the marshmallows?” Becks opened and closed half the kitchen cabinets until he finally realized Logan had them. As he moved into the living room, Wylder caught his frown, she could just barely see him from her hiding place. “My sister likes these in her cocoa.” He picked up the container of melty mints.
“Oh yeah.” Logan leaned forward. “I picked that up from her at school. Love those things.”
He hated them. He’d tried them once and said they tasted like cough syrup masquerading as pink and green chocolate chips.
“Me too.” Becks scooped up a handful of mints and popped them into his mug. “I like them with regular hot cocoa.” He lifted the mug to his lips.
“Well, I’m going to try getting some sleep now.” Logan set his mug down and moved to lay back down.
“Right. Sleep well.” Becks made his way back upstairs.
Wylder let out a sigh of relief, but just as she was about to stand up, a door opened. “Oh, come on,” she whispered.
Luke walked into the living room in his boxers, scratching his stomach, his hair a wild spike of brown sticking out in every direction. “I smell chocolate.” He sniffed the air. “You think they have any cookies?” He shuffled into the kitchen.
“I don’t know, man.” Logan ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Wylder over the back of the couch as his brother ransacked the kitchen.
“Found their stash. Score, they’ve got Nutterbutters.” Luke helped himself to a glass of milk.
“Want some?” He sat in the armchair beside the couch, offering his brother the bag of cookies.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“I can’t sleep.” Luke popped a whole cookie into his mouth like it was a Tic-Tac.
“Seems to be going around.” Logan scratched the back of his neck.
“I’ve made a mess of things for us.”
“No, you haven’t, bro. If anyone is responsible for all this, it’s me.”
“Looks like we’re having a party.” Nicky slipped quietly down the stairs, avoiding the curved railing that got both Wylder and Becks.
“Sorry, I stole your cookies.” Luke lifted the bag of Nutterbutters.
“No worries, help yourselves to anything in the kitchen. Try to avoid the things Becks has his name on. He’s territorial with food.”
“Runs in the family.” Logan snorted.
“Yes, it does.” Nicky grabbed two bottled waters from the fridge, just as Becks came back downstairs. “What’s going on here?” He stood with his hands on his hips. “Are those my cookies?” He glared at Luke.
“Be nice, Beckett,” Nicky warned, handing him a bottle of water.
“Why?”
“It’s called being hospitable to your guests.”
“They’re not my guests.”
“But they need our help, and we’re going to be nice, right?”
“I suppose. Don’t eat all my cookies, Cook.”
“I’ll save you one.” Luke smirked, clutching the bag to his bare chest.
“Put some clothes on. My sister’s in this house, and she doesn’t need to see that.”
“You put some clothes on.” He glared back at Becks’ bare chest and boxers. Thank God he wasn’t in tighty whities again.
“That’s it. Nicky hold me back, this guy’s on my list.”
Luke laughed. “What are you going to do, drown me in a sea of stupid hats?”
“You little—“
“That’s enough.” Wylder stood up from her hiding place. “All of you go to bed right now. There’s entirely too much man chest in this room—none of which, I want to see.” She glared at Becks, Nicky, and Luke. Logan was the only one with a shirt on, and she wished it had gone the other way,
“Wylds? Where did you come from?” Becks blinked at her.
“She’s been hiding back there this whole time, genius.” Luke rolled his eyes.
“Bed, now!” Wylder scowled.
“Aha! I knew you couldn’t be trusted.” Becks pointed at Logan.
Wylder stomped around the couch, a white-hot poker lighting up her foot where she’d likely broken her big toe.
“Wylder cover your eyes, kiddo.” Becks put himself between her and the shirtless Luke.
“Enough!” Wylder shoved her brother. “For crying out loud, Becks, go to bed.” She turned to Nicky with pleading eyes.
“She’s right, Becks. Let’s go.” Nicky took his hand.
“I’m not leaving her here with the sleazy McChesty twins. Wylder, it’s way past your bedtime.” He pointed to the stairs like she was five years old again and he was the overprotective big brother looking out for her.
“Beckett Vonzelle Anderson,” Wylder’s eyes shot through him like lasers.
“Traitor!” Becks screamed. “Wylder Mozelle Anderson, we had a pact!”
“Seriously? Vonzelle? That’s Twitter gold.” Luke reached for his phone.
“Don’t you dare.” Logan smacked his hand away.
“It is high time you realize I’m an adult, Beckett. I’m nineteen, not twelve. And if I want to sit down here and make-out with Logan, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Wylder crossed her arms over her chest.
“Wylds, he’s way more experienced than you, kiddo.”
“I’m a year older than he is, and you know nothing about my level of experience with men.”
“Men? Who said anything about men?” Becks looked to Nicky for help.
“Becks. We’re going to bed now.” Nicky pulled him toward the stairs. “Luke, I’d suggest you do the same.”
“And leave her down here with a boy?” Becks hissed. “It’s the middle of the night, Nick Nick.”
“And she’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.” Nicky pushed him up the first steps.
“You keep your hands to yourself.” Becks growled a final warning to Logan.
> “Well, I’m off to bed. I’ve got some sweet dreams to look forward to, and some epic tweets to compose.” Luke stood with a stretch. “Have fun, you two.” He winked at Wylder.
“Did you just wink at my little sister?” Becks ducked his head down from the stairs Nicky was still struggling to get him up.
“Relax SexyBecksy, I don’t want your sister, but I’m pretty sure my brother does.” Luke threw up his hand in a wave to the crowd and headed for the guest room. “Night all!”
“Mozelle?” Logan turned toward Wylder when they were finally alone again.
“Family name.” Wylder sighed and flopped down on the couch next to him. “Forget you heard it.”
“Oh, I’m tucking that one away for future use.” Logan rested his arm on the back of the couch. “Now about that whole making-out thing.”
“I just said that to make Becks mad.”
“Oh, so you didn’t come down here to make-out with me?”
“I came down for hot cocoa,” Wylder insisted, but she couldn’t seem to stop the smile spreading across her face.
“I suppose it is getting late.” Logan leaned in, pressing a kiss against her lips.
“Wylder, go to bed!” Becks bellowed from upstairs.
“Nicky!” Wylder begged.
“Sorry, he got away from me.” Nicky groaned, and a moment later their bedroom door closed.
“I guess I should try to get some sleep.” Wylder stood, and Logan walked her to the bottom of the stairs.
“Night, Wylds.” Logan pulled her into his arms and kissed her. His lips warm and soft against hers.
Wylder’s hands slid up his shoulders to tangle in his hair.
He pulled away too soon but pressed his forehead to hers. “Thank you for coming with me to help my brother.”
“We’ll fix this.” She smiled shyly.
“I hope so.” He pressed a final kiss to her lips, and Wylder turned to stumble back upstairs. She was never going to sleep now.
19
“Wylder stop pacing, you’re making me crazy.” Becks strummed his guitar out on the patio where he liked to work.
“Do you think the label is going to help them through this?” She chewed on her thumbnail, trying not to imagine the worst.
“The label will do whatever Luke’s PR team recommends. That’s who they’re meeting with today.” Becks scribbled in his notebook, crossing out several lines of lyrics he’d been working on all morning.
“But what do you think they’ll say?” She flopped down on the seat opposite him.
Becks stopped playing his guitar and looked her in the eye. “I think they’re going to be majorly ticked off that one of their top recording artists has been lip-syncing to his identical twin brother’s voice this whole time.”
“What will they do to them?” Wylder felt the blood rush from her face. “They won’t drop him from the label for this, will they?”
“Honestly, Wylds, why would they keep him?”
“I know you don’t like Luke—“
“The guy’s a jerk-faced baboon.” Becks turned his attention back to his guitar. “And he can’t even sing.”
“You don’t know the whole story, Beckett.” Wylder’s voice turned sharp. “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
He glanced back at her. “I don’t know what that means, but you’re too involved with the Cook brothers. I don’t like it.”
“If you knew their story, you’d probably have a lot more respect for them.” Wylder stood, pulling her sweater tight around her. “I expected more from you, Becks.” Her shoulders fell. “I brought them here because you’ve been where they are. I thought you could put your petty Twitter war aside and help them out of a tough situation.” She turned to leave him to his songwriting.
“Sit back down, Wylds.” Becks’ voice sounded resigned.
Wylder perched on the edge of the wrought-iron bench.
“What don’t I know?” He set his guitar aside.
“It’s not my story to tell.”
“Then tell me what you can because none of what they’ve done makes any sense to me. Why should we help them? They’ve lied to their fans. Not about who they’re dating like I did—but about the singing. That’s unforgivable, so make me understand their situation, and I’ll do what I can to help them through this.”
Wylder tapped her fingers against her knee, wondering how much of Logan’s story she could tell her brother without violating his family’s privacy. In the end, she stood up and faced Becks. “Imagine what our lives would have been like if we were orphaned when you were barely out of high school, and I was just twelve years old, and we had to figure out a way to survive on our talent alone. What lengths would you have taken to make sure we survived if you were at your wit’s end trying to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table?” She didn’t wait for him to answer before she left him alone to ponder her question.
Logan and his brothers had left hours ago to meet with the label along with their lawyer uncle. It wasn’t looking good for the Cook brothers, and Wylder was left climbing the walls.
Just when she was desperate enough to consider going out for a run, Logan stepped through the front door looking pale and terrified.
“What happened?” Wylder met them in the foyer. Judging by the looks on the twins’ faces, it wasn’t good news.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Luke moved to sit on the couch, dropping his head into his hands. Logan and Sebastian followed silently.
“I’m Bruce Cook.” The older man reached to shake her hand. “You must be Wylder. I’ve heard a lot about you, young lady.”
She nodded and stepped aside to invite their uncle in, though she had a lot of things she’d like to say to the man who should have stepped in to be a father to his three nephews when their father died. But it wasn’t her place to tell him off.
“I’d like to thank Mr. Anderson for allowing my boys to stay here under the radar.” Bruce held his fedora hat in his hand, looking out of place and eager to leave.
“It’s my pleasure.” Becks stood leaning against the kitchen counter, his guitar propped against the patio door.
“Please, have a seat.” Wylder guided Bruce to the chair opposite his nephews.
Wylder joined Becks at the kitchen counter to give them some privacy. Logan watched her cross the room, not taking his eyes off her until she sat at the bar.
“It could have gone better,” Sebastian said. Wylder heard the note of panic in his voice. She knew it was killing him that he couldn’t fix this for his brothers.
“They’re dropping us,” Luke’s voice grated like gravel in his throat. “It’s over.”
“It’s not official yet,” Logan interjected. “The PR team has decided to back away for the moment to see how the rumors will play out in the press.”
“It’s the kiss of death. We all know that.” Luke scrubbed a hand over his face.
“They were optimistic.” Logan sighed. “But they’re worried.”
“Let me guess.” Becks stepped into the living room and took a seat beside the brothers. “They have set up some sort of interview with a crazy story that just might work?”
“Yeah.” Luke leaned forward. “They want us to say I went to Defiance Academy to sing for Logan to help him out of a tough situation. That even Wylder didn’t know it was me.”
“It’s not a bad plan, Luke.” Bruce stood, nodding to Sebastian. The two hadn’t exchanged a word. “Let me know how it goes. You boys know I’m always just a phone call away if you need legal counsel.” He put his hat back on. “I’ll see myself out.”
Wylder watched Bruce walk away without a care for what happened to Luke’s career. A career that belonged just as much to Logan.
“What about the switcheroo situation?” Becks pointed from Logan to Luke. “They aren’t going to like… let you keep doing that?”
“Of course not.” Logan sighed. “But they wouldn’t discuss a plan for the future.”
<
br /> “They’re throwing us to the lions to see if we survive.” Luke scoffed with a shake of his head. “If we come out the other side with a shred of our career intact, then they might throw us a bone.”
“It’s a scary place to be,” Becks said softly. “I’ve been right where you are with my career on the line and no one in my corner but my friends and family.”
“What did you do?” Logan asked. “We’ve got nothing, so we’ll take whatever advice you’ve got.”
“Bad hats and all.” Luke nodded with a wry grin.
“You wish you could pull off my cool hats.” Becks grinned.
“You wish you knew what cool was.” Luke leaned back, the tension easing from his shoulders.
“You want to know what worked for me?” Becks took on a rare serious tone. “The truth. In the beginning, I went along with the PR scheme my team cooked up. Adding one lie on top of another until I didn’t know what the truth was anymore. I almost lost the most important person in my life because of it. In the end, I learned a valuable lesson. A lie is never the answer for a lie. Your fans deserve to know the truth. They deserve to know why you’ve made the choices you’ve made that have led you to this point. Don’t let them think for a single moment that you’ve done this for the fame, fortune, and glory. Tell them the truth, and if they love you, they’ll stick with both of you. And if it all falls apart, and the label drops you, you move on and start over. I promise, it won’t be the end of the world. Just the beginning of something new.”
“Who knew SexyBecksy could be so… profound?” Luke gave him a friendly smirk.
“It comes out when you least expect it.” Wylder deadpanned.
“I’ll leave you with one more piece of advice.” Becks grabbed his guitar and his phone. “The truth is what matters to me, and it set my career back on the right path, but you guys have to decide what really matters to you.” With that, Becks dropped one of his least ridiculous cowboy hats on his head and walked out the front door.
“Someone really has to stop selling him those hats.” Luke shook his head ruefully.
“You’re Wylder Anderson.” Wide incredulous eyes stared at Wylder under the brim of a hat shaped like a slice of pizza.
Wylder and the Almost Rockstar (Reluctant Rockstars Book 2) Page 15
