Flirting with the Rock Star Next Door

by Nadia Lee

  A much better scenario. Besides, I thought romance was pretty damned cool, and I considered myself smart.

  “Can she do it?” I asked. She hadn’t beaten her dad yet despite the fact that she’d been on bestseller lists before.

  “Oh yes. We have lots of fabulous plans for her next book, and we’re going all out because it’s her last shot. Emily has been building her fan base, and they’re wonderfully supportive. I’m sure she’ll succeed this time. I can’t wait to see Brandon’s face when he loses. I’ve already designed custom frames for each of the ads. I’m going to print them out, blow them up and hang them in the bedroom, where he can see them every day.” Her smile was mean, her teeth gleaming.

  “Does she need help with publicity?” I asked, willing to lend Emily my team. They were amazing at creating buzz.

  “She already has a publicity company she’s working with. Thank you, though. We’re doing whatever it takes to win.”

  “I hope she does. I’m on Team Emily one hundred percent.” I wanted to see her succeed. If she happened to kick her dad’s ass along the way, so much the better. But most importantly, I wanted her to be happy, and she wouldn’t be happy if she had to put out those garbage ads and insult the genre and readers she loved so much.

  Abby smiled. “I know. I heard you talk about her work. You’re a gem, Killian. I’m glad Emily got to meet you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Emily

  After brunch, Mir drove back to Alexandria to attend her meeting. Then Devlin and the Barbie Sextet left. Actually, it was more like Killian evicting them. But Devlin was laughing, so it didn’t seem like there were any hard feelings between the two. I couldn’t say the same about the girls, who pouted the entire time that they didn’t get to post anything.

  Mom also decided she ought to leave me and Killian alone.

  “You don’t have to go,” I said, following her to her car. She was in a vulnerable place emotionally, and she might need my support. I also didn’t want her to go back home either, because that meant Dad won too easily. He needed to sweat a little more. And attempt his usual routine to get Mom to come back.

  “I know, but I’m not going to bother you two love birds.”

  My face grew hot. “We aren’t love anythings.”

  “Oh please. I’ve seen the way Killian looks at you. And he’s so handsome! Even better than Neil Diamond!”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind. He cares about you, Emily.” She patted my arm. “You should recognize that. You’re a romance writer.”

  “Romance happens in books, Mom. Not in real life.”

  Yeah, but Killian gave you romance-novel sex. So maybe he can give you other stuff, too.

  Shut up, libido-addled brain. I wasn’t talking to you.

  “You shouldn’t be so cynical, dear,” Mom said.

  “What I am is realistic.” Even if I weren’t, seeing Mom and Dad’s marriage would have soured any starry-eyed expectations about relationships. “And I don’t want you going home so soon. Dad needs to suffer some more. He hasn’t sent you a single flower.”

  He always sent her gifts to get her to come back. Mainly chocolates and flowers. He even gave her apologies, which were empty, since he was going to cheat on her again.

  But she always caved after he showered her with enough presents and enough sorrys. What was it about him that she couldn’t ditch him?

  “Don’t worry. I’m going to Charlotte to stay with your aunt.”

  “Okay, then.” I let out a soft sigh of relief. If my mom was a butterfly, easily won over by flowers and sweets, Aunt Gail was a dragon. She’d make sure Dad groveled enough.

  “I’ll call, sweetie. We need to talk about finalizing the ads and graphics,” she said, giving me a hug.

  “I know.” I hugged her back and made a mental note to text Aunt Gail asking her to be extra nasty to my dad when he tried to get in touch. “Drive safe.”

  “I will. And keep in touch with those girls.”

  “You have to be kidding.”

  “But they’re so friendly! I’m following them on Instagram. And I got their numbers in case you need them.”

  They exchanged numbers? It was a little creepy. Besides, I didn’t want to socialize with Killian’s exes or wannabe groupies.

  On the other hand, it was my mom, the textbook extrovert. That was why she handled my social media for me. Because if I were in charge, I’d never post anything except once in a while when I had a new book coming out.

  Mom drove off. I watched the Mercedes turn onto the main road and then went back to the house, dragging my feet and feeling like a dishrag after a Thanksgiving feast. I hadn’t dealt with this many people in a while, and my introvert brain wanted to shut down and take some time to recover. Process what had happened. It was a bit too overwhelming, especially when the visits had happened so unexpectedly.

  Killian was standing by the door.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Can we talk a little? It won’t take long.”

  I was torn because I wanted to plop down and think about nothing. But he had a stubborn look, the same one he’d had when we first met with our hands on the same ice cream. Except this time he looked more determined. Claiming there was a cockroach on his foot wasn’t going to cut it.

  “Okay,” I said, slipping into my home and motioning for him to come inside.

  He followed me in, shutting the door behind us. I threw myself on the couch, leaving him just enough room to sit. He did and waited until I arranged myself comfortably, with my feet up on the table in front of us.

  “Okay. Number one, Dev won’t bring girls over like that again,” he said. “And whatever he told you is bullshit, so delete it from your memory.”

  “Which part? He said a lot of things,” I said. “Besides, you don’t know what he told me while you were in the kitchen with my mom.”

  “Pretty sure I do. He’s kind of predictable.”

  “You mean that he’s highly concerned about women who aren’t a size two and don’t think a life goal is banging you because they’re unnatural?” I teased.

  Apparently he missed the teasing, because he dropped his head into a palm with a groan. “Yeah. Some crap like that.”

  “Killian, I’m not going to hold his opinion against you. That wouldn’t be fair. And he isn’t wrong about me not being a size two or not thinking my life exists solely to have sex with you.” I shrugged to let Killian know I wasn’t that affected. Seriously, I’d heard worse from my dad, who should’ve been on my side.

  “No, you don’t get it. The reason I like you is that you aren’t size two, don’t want to post every minute of our time together online and don’t look at my cock like you’re going to take it with you if we break up.”

  I choked, then laughed.

  “I’m serious. I don’t want a woman who only eats salad or is too, too”—he searched for a word—“vacuous to do anything but take a bunch of pictures and upload them to every account she has. I’ve dated more than a few like that, and trust me, it’s no fun.”

  I could imagine how annoying that would be. The Sextet’s antics with selfies drove me insane. And they couldn’t have been clearer that their sole goal was to get attention. Even spending time with Killian hadn’t been about being with him, but how it could help them.

  Relationships shouldn’t be so cold and calculating. I felt terrible that Killian had to put up with people like that, and I was glad he knew I’d never be with him for anything other than the sheer enjoyment of his company.

  Killian leaned forward, his gorgeous blue eyes on mine. “I know the timing’s not the best. Fuckin’ Dev.” He huffed out a breath. “Anyway, I told you I’d have to leave in June to go to Dallas, and… Well, look. Long-distance relationships suck. I want to avoid that as much as possible. This is sudden and all, but I don’t know how much time you’re going to need to think about it.”

  It was a very
long intro. “What’s sudden?”

  He let out a breath in a rush. “I was wondering if you want to come with me. I mean, at least consider it. I’m not saying you have to sell your house here or anything, but come to Dallas for a few months. Be with me. Let’s see how it works.”

  Shock shot through me. Had he read my mind earlier this morning?

  If we’d had this conversation without Devlin’s visit, I would’ve smiled and said yes. It wasn’t like I had any ties to the small town, and I definitely wanted to be with Killian more than I wanted to stay in Kingstree. Or at least if Mom hadn’t visited, crying, because of Dad’s infidelity for the nth time. But both of those things happened, and I couldn’t just smile and say okay.

  But maybe we should talk about this more openly and rationally, and perhaps even bring up the practical aspects of cohabitating. Although we’d spent some time together, we certainly hadn’t done anything close to living together. And since I didn’t want to sound like I was being accusatory, I decided to bring up my flaws first.

  “I’m messy.” I gestured around us, at the empty bottles and notes strewn everywhere.

  “We can hire a housekeeper.”

  “I don’t really like strangers in my home.”

  “Then we’ll clean up together when we have the time.”

  I narrowed my eyes at his ready answers. This was too easy. “I will likely ignore you when I’m busy working or have a book launch coming up.”

  “No problem,” he said. “I know you have a career you enjoy. I don’t want you to give that up.”

  Pleasure rippled over the surprise and mild unease at what he said. But I wondered if he really knew what me not giving up my career would look like. Quite a few of my relationships had broken up because of my work. Even before I became a writer, I’d left guys because they hadn’t understood why I worked so much. To them I should work from nine to five and spend the rest of the day with them, instead of billing over eighty hours a week to clients like I’d been expected to, or fly to wherever my client company happened to be located.

  And being a writer didn’t mean I worked less. I actually worked even more and kept irregular hours. Plus I had other needs for my workspace.

  “You might not be able to drum when I’m working, which is almost all the time,” I said.

  “So? I’m not the drummer in the band, and that’s what studios are for. Look, I like it that you aren’t perfect, because God knows I’m not. I like it that you have dreams and goals that aren’t tied to me and my career. I hate being around women who just want to, you know, hitch a ride on my coattails.”

  Resentment had slipped into his tone. Somebody—or maybe everybody since he’d hit the big time—had tried to take advantage of him. And I knew how nasty a taste that could leave in your mouth. I had peers who’d treated me like garbage when I was coming up suddenly become nice once I began hitting the bestseller lists.

  “Like the girls who wanted to use you to get more followers and likes?” I said, stroking the frown lines between his eyebrows.

  “Exactly. Or women who wanted to get introductions to people in the music industry. You don’t care about any of that. When you’re with me, you’re with me, one hundred percent.”

  He was saying all the right things, the kind of lines I’d give my romance heroes. My head said I should be more cautious. But my heart boomed, Yes, yes, yes. He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t really like me.

  And I liked him, too. He’d defended my career and my place in his life. He was kind to my mom. His actions had shown that he was serious about what we had, that he wasn’t just some asshole like my dad.

  Hadn’t I thought that he might be able to give me more than just romance-novel sex? Hadn’t I thought that we could have an entire romance novel relationship?

  The nerves in my belly shivered and prickled. My mouth was dry, half with fear and half with excitement. It was a huge step, but I should take it, rather than letting my prejudices color everything. Because despite my upbringing, my head understood—at least logically—that not every man was like my father. If so, the divorce rate would be stratospheric.

  “Okay,” I said. “Dallas sounds like a great place to spend the summer months.”

  A smile broke out on his face. We sealed our agreement with a kiss…and then much more.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Killian

  The next day, Emily worked at the dining table while I reviewed email and some reports from my financial manager. He sent them every quarter to let me know how rapidly my money was multiplying. And it was, which was great… But every time I thought about the money, I missed my parents. Almost everything—all those billions—had come from them. And it had provided the initial funding the band needed to buy our first instruments and equipment, get studio time, pay the sound mixers and all that. It was as though they’d known what I would need to pursue my dream, even before I was old enough to know what it was myself.

  My phone buzzed with a text from Dev.

  –Devlin: Hey, wanted to catch up because we didn’t get to talk yesterday. The girls are finally gone now. Sorry about what happened. I would’ve never done that if I’d known.

  I sighed. It was hard to stay mad at him for long. He always knew when he screwed up and wasn’t too proud to say he was sorry. Besides, he’d genuinely thought he was doing me a favor by bringing those girls.

  –Me: It’s okay. But next time, ask before you decide to bring women over. Not having that again with Emily.

  –Devlin: I will. I was just trying to help. I thought maybe you were spiraling into some kind of abyss to be reading romance novels. So I’m gonna be good in Dallas. Shit, I guess that means I need to start being good now. I also owe a favor or two to your girl, too.

  I frowned as I tried to process his text. He could be a bit unclear, especially when he had more than two things on his mind.

  –Me: You there already? Not hitting a nude beach in Europe before June?

  –Devlin: Trying to get my head back into the music. And the girls in Dallas are hot, too. Gotta diversify my diet. I’ve eaten enough European.

  I shook my head. Discussing women like they were food groups. Don’t just eat veggies—gotta have some meat, too.

  –Devlin: And since I’m here, I’ll get the house cleaned up.

  We had a huge gated mansion in the city. Paid about two million for it three years ago. There was tons of space, but it was a bachelor pad with video games, an indoor basketball hoop (Max’s idea, not mine), a pinball machine, bowling alleys, a hot tub big enough for an orgy (Dev’s contribution) and a gigantic, in-progress pyramid of empty Red Bull cans. That was why Cole spent more time in his fiancée’s modest apartment than at the mansion. And I couldn’t envision Emily working in a space like that. She couldn’t even tolerate drums. I definitely needed to figure something out for her.

  –Devlin: Got any requests? Any new toys you want?

  –Me: Nah, I’m good. But I need to look for a new place.

  –Devlin: Dude… You still mad at me?

  –Me: No. Just can’t have Emily live there.

  –Devlin: She’s moving here with you?

  I wanted more than just to move in with her. I could see myself with her long-term. Live and be together, like Mom and Dad. Emily seemed a bit skeptical about romance in general, which was understandable given what I’d heard about her parents’ marriage. But I could make up for that. I could show her how it could be.

  –Me: Yeah. I asked real nice, like a gentleman.

  –Devlin: Gentleman, my ass. You’re a rock star.

  –Me: A gentleman rock star. It’s a new category.

  I could almost hear Dev grunt and laugh at the same time.

  –Devlin: Want me to look at some places for you?

  I started to type yes, then stopped. This was Dev. His idea of good was probably going to be an orgy pad. As though he’d read my mind, Devlin texted again.

  –Devlin: I have excellent
taste and judgment. Just ask anybody.

  –Me: Is that what your girls said, or your lawyer?

  –Devlin: I’m not having a lawyer pick out a place for you and Emily.

  –Me: Don’t bother. I’ll have Felicia handle it.

  –Devlin: You trust your assistant more than me?

  –Me: Yep. Nothing personal.

  –Devlin: That’s what people always say when it’s personal. Anyway, I gotta go. I’m meeting an interior designer.

  An alarm rang in my head.

  –Me: Why? Are you going to redo the house?

  There was a big difference between cleaning and interior decoration. The band didn’t need a brothel-themed home away from home. What if Emily wanted to see it? It’d be too embarrassing.

  –Devlin: No. But I’m going to say that I am. Gives me a reason to meet her. She’s hot.

  I relaxed in my seat. Should have known.

  Then I felt sorry for the poor interior designer, who might be counting on the potential contract.

  –Me: You shouldn’t lie and waste her time.

  –Devlin: Lie? She wears a push-up bra, heels and a ton of makeup.

  –Me: You have a point.

  –Devlin: It’s called dating, not lying. Birds always fluff up their best feathers to get the chicks. It’s the same thing. If she gets mad because she found your ugly feathers, oh well. She should’ve inspected the merchandise better.

  Spoken like a true player with lots of nonsensical mixed metaphors thrown in. I ignored his advice and texted Felicia to work up a list of a few decent places for me and Emily.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Emily

  I rolled my shoulders to unkink the knots. Staring at all the teasers, graphics and posts for the book launch made my eyes ready to fall out. The manuscript was edited, proofread and formatted in record time…but the process had still taken three weeks. Less than a day remained before the release date. It felt like nausea had been roiling in my gut forever, and had now gotten to the point that it just felt buzzy—like a million angry bees were trapped inside. Sweat slickened my palms, and I wiped them on my pants.