Ellie reached her car and waved. “Nice to meet you, Stryker. Take care of our little girl and don’t bring her home too late.”
For all her talk about nerves Ellie had gotten awfully comfortable in a matter of minutes. Harper grinned and gave her two thumbs up, because that’s what the nerd-girl in her wanted to do. Ellie laughed.
Stryker waved back and said, “Have a good night. I’ll have Harper home by dawn, no later, I promise.”
Oh, yeah, there was the bad boy.
Except that he opened the door of his discreet black SUV for her and carefully helped her in like she was glass. Despite his reputation he had some very gentlemanly qualities and she found that intriguing. She looked in the backseat, expecting staff.
“What are you looking for?” he asked, amused.
“I thought you would have “your people” with you.” She made air quotes.
“Unless they’re leprechauns I’m not sure why you’re ducking down to look.” He shook his head, clearly amused. “I don’t travel everywhere with “people.” Sometimes I actually venture out into the big, huge world all by myself. And use utensils and big words and stuff.”
Harper bit her lip, thinking that there was something ridiculously charming about Stryker, even when he wasn’t trying to be. It made him very easy to feel comfortable around. “Big and huge are redundant.”
He looked shocked, but then he burst out laughing. “True that, grammar girl.” Then he stood back up and slammed the door shut. He went around to the driver’s side.
Harper peered around the interior of his car out of nosiness, but there was nothing of interest. It was probably a rental. She flipped the visor down and checked her lipstick. Still red. Still within the lip lines. She blew herself a kiss, which he caught as he climbed in beside her. Sometime she had a habit of forgetting she wasn’t alone. It was cubicle syndrome. She and thirty data analysts all blithely ignored each other all day, every day.
“You look amazing, in case you were wondering,” Stryker said. He reached over and tweaked one of her buns. “Delicious. Like a pastry and I’m starving.”
Admittedly, all her pieces parts stoked to life at both his words and the smoldering look he was giving her with those pale blue eyes, but it was too ludicrous to take seriously. “You’re really pushing your levels of credibility,” she told him, “when you lay it on that thick.”
He shook his head. “Damn, you’re a hard nut to crack.” He turned the car on. “You forgot to mention you’re as prickly as Chewbacca too.”
“Prickly?” She frowned. “That’s not very flattering.”
“Then why don’t you believe that I’m being genuine? I find you attractive, is that really that shocking?”
“Yes.” Harper didn’t understand why he was failing to comprehend this. “Not because I have a self-esteem issue, because I don’t. But we are from different spheres of life. Completely. I’m cute and interesting but I am not an actress, musician, model, or anything other than an intelligent nerd with a penchant for high heels. You’re a rockstar.” She made the motion of dropping the mic and smiled at him. “Boom. Answer that.”
She should have had the sense to realize that a man like Stryker Evans would not let her pronouncement go unanswered. If anything, he would see it as a challenge. But again, common sense wasn’t her strong suit. She spoke before she thought and while she was the classic case of logical when it came to numbers and work, she was a complete ditz day to day.
So she had no ability to predict that Stryker Evans would definitely answer her by leaning over, sliding his large hand into her hair, and pulling her toward him over the gearshift. When she realized he was going to kiss her, it was too late to react. Technically she could have jerked back but her reflexes were not up to snuff. Besides, she was curious. Shocked as hell. But equally curious.
The corner of his mouth turned up in a sexy, seductive smile and he tilted his head to descend onto her lips with his. The minute their flesh touched and she felt the full force of his Lead Singer Syndrome, otherwise known as Power of The Panty Drop, she knew she was in trouble. At serious risk for taking any of this seriously. Because Stryker had an amazing mouth that was doing amazing things to her insides. He kissed like an artist. Like every nuance, every second, every stroke and taste and touch, was of the absolute utmost importance to him.
She kissed him back because there was no way not to. It was a kiss for the ages. She could already picture a meme being created in her head based on this kiss.
Live like tomorrow is the Rapture.
25,000 people are kissing right now and yet you’re reading this.
Feel free to use kisses to shut me up anytime.
It was that good. But then she remembered that it was probably that skilled and amazing because he had kissed dozens of women. Hundreds. Thousands?
That was enough of a reminder though to have her pulling back. His eyes were still half closed and he looked slumberous, sexy. “That was unexpected,” she said.
“Was it?” He reached out and tapped her bun with the tip of his finger. “I was planning it from the first second I looked out into the audience and saw you.”
Harper was still flustered from that kiss so it took her a second. “Wait, what? You were looking at me?”
He nodded. “Yep. I saw you and all this and thought you were hot as hell.”
Now that was quite flattering and mind-boggling all at once. It was her One Direction fantasy circa 2010. That Zayn would look into the audience and choose her. This was better. Far better. Because she was a woman now and Stryker was a man, not a boy. A muscular, tattooed, dirty bad boy and he had singled her out. If that wasn’t hot she didn’t know what was.
Then a random thought occurred to her. “But my arm getting broken was a coincidence, right? You didn’t like order your guard to break my arm, did you?”
Stryker laughed. “Of course not! This isn’t Game of Thrones, geez. It was a complete surprise when I saw the face that went with the name in the hospital. A very pleasant surprise.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry, that was kind of a rude question.” Not to mention monstrously conceited. So sexy he maneuvered a meeting? Yeah, that was not her. “I’m just not sure what is going on here.” Or why they hadn’t even left the parking lot of her apartment building.
“Your voice is dripping with suspicion.” He sounded amused. “Is it so crazy to think that initially I found you attractive and then I found you interesting as well?”
When put that way she realized she really needed to stop protesting. YOLO and all of that. She was usually better at just rolling with it. “My celebrity experience is limited. I’m out of my element.”
“That’s why I’m taking you somewhere you’ll feel right at home.” Stryker smiled and finally put the car in reverse, glancing back before pulling out of the parking spot. “While we’re driving, tell me about yourself, Harper. I know you like Star Wars, high heels, grammar, and brutal honesty. Anything else I should know?”
That really pretty much summed her up. “I think I told you I’m a data analyst. I have one older brother who just had a baby with his wife. Baby Aidan. I love that kid like nobody’s business. I had a normal childhood, no tragic past. I love cosplay. I’m obsessed with the tiny house movement. I want to marry my cup of coffee every morning.” She watched his profile. Stryker had a strong nose and jawline. “Your turn.”
He glanced over, bemused. “I don’t get to ask further questions about those intriguing statements?”
She shrugged. “Ask whatever you want.”
“Why tiny houses?”
“It seems so beautifully efficient.”
“Try living on a tour bus and you’ll change your mind. It’s a pain in the ass.”
Harper hadn’t thought of that. “A little much too togetherness?”
“A little too much of everything.” Braking at a red light, he met her eyes and shrugged. “I can’t complain. But it’s not the glamorous side of fame, that’s for su
re. But I had a normal childhood too in central California, with plenty of Star Wars toys. My parents are still married. My sister is also married, and has three kids. I also love coffee, though I never realized marriage with it was an option. My apartment is tiny, but I hate it. I’m never around enough to make it feel like home. And I like to sing.”
Damn it, he was so cute. Plus there was something shockingly down to earth about him despite everything she’d read in the online tabloids. “Do you ever sing to your coffee?” she asked.
He laughed and turned back to driving, easing through the now-green light. “Probably without even realizing it.”
Harper realized where they were going as soon as he took a right turn. “Are you serious? You’re taking me to Hot Dog Heaven?” It was a kitschy food truck hot dog stand with cartoon hot dogs bouncing through the clouds on the colorful sign.
“I have it on good authority you like wieners.”
It was too silly a word to be taken as flirting but she was still impressed. He had listened to her. “That I do.”
There was a crowd at the truck despite the cooler temperature. Picnic tables were set around the stand and there was a kerosene heater in the middle. After parking Stryker came around and opened her door for her and carefully helped her out. Harper’s arm was admittedly still hurt, but eating a wiener with a famous musician dulled the pain. Fortunately, no one seemed to recognize Stryker. It wasn’t that unusual to see a leather jacket wearing tattooed guy around town so no one gave him a second glance. If anything, they were more focused on her. This is what she liked about Minnesota- people were friendly.
“What did you do to your arm?” The girl taking her order asked with sympathy.
“I tripped and fell and broke it.” She left out the giant security guard falling on her because that was just too embarrassing to even seem real.
“That sucks. I hope your boyfriend is taking good care of you.” The cashier was in her forties and she was just being friendly, but it was clear to Harper she thought Stryker was hot. She decided to tease him a little. “Did you hear that, Chris? You need to take good care of me.”
His hand landed on the small of her back and he moved in close to her. Without warning he brushed her hair back off her shoulder and gave her neck a sultry kiss. “Oh, I plan to.”
Hello. Harper shivered. She’d been beaten at her own game. One move in and he already check-mated her. Unnerved she studied the menu. This food stand was known for having creative names and twists on traditional dogs. On prior visits she’d had a “Mystery Machine,” a “Blue Velvet,” and the “Twin Peak.” For a pop culture lover, she had been delighted. But now she had barely had a chance to even glance at the options of the day before Stryker answered for her.
“She’ll have the Rockstar,” Stryker said. “And I’ll take the Geek Girl.”
Her mouth dropped. He had to have paid the damn hot dog truck to make that possible. There was no way that was a coincidence. Now that was sexy and flattering and maybe slightly creepy in a dominating celebrity kind of way. Or maybe he just wanted to impress her. At any rate, she felt almost breathless with arousal and was super embarrassed even though the woman serving them had no idea why his order was odd.
She refused to look at him. She just smiled and put her fingers up. “Actually, I’ll take two Rockstars, thanks.”
Stryker laughed. His hand dropped even further on her back, right above her bum.
“Every woman wants a rockstar in them,” the employee said, giving her a grin.
So true. So very, very true.
Chapter Three
Stryker was having a great time with Harper. She ate and talked with equal enthusiasm and didn’t get frustrated or embarrassed when her sling and cast forced her to eat one-handed and onions spilled all over her hand.
“Crud.” She set her hot dog down.
“Here, let me help you.” Stryker reached over and lifted her hand into his. He raised it and licked the onions and sriracha off her flesh before setting it back down and handing her a napkin.
She rolled her eyes. Which amused him. She wasn’t immune to his flirting. He could see the spark in her eyes and she had kissed him back with the same enthusiasm she had for George Lucas films. But she was unwilling to indulge him and he found that refreshing. He felt at ease with her. She talked a lot but she never rambled. She just shared her thoughts and he was having a great time. He was glad he’d had the foresight to call the hot dog truck ahead of time and rig the menu. He was pretty sure Harper knew that’s what he had done. But she hadn’t called him out and they were just having good conversation and good food.
“So do you have a favorite song of yours?” she asked. “Or are they like children, you can’t pick a favorite.”
“I’m pretty sure parents pick favorites. But honestly? My favorite song I’ve ever written is Hold Back.” It was an honest song, written about his loneliness on the road. His desire to have a true home again, not a bus or a hotel or an apartment that he had never bothered to even hang pictures on the walls.
“That’s a ballad.” She seemed surprised.
“Yeah.” He took a sip of water, his two hot dogs already destroyed. “Yeah. I wish I could write like that now. I’ve had a touch of writer’s block.” Rose had been the latest in a string of utterly pointless relationships designed more for publicity and out of convenience and since the break up he’d just been… restless. It was affecting his music.
“What inspires you normally?”
He almost gave a flippant answer and said “women” but that wasn’t the truth and Harper had been so straight-forward and honest he owed her the same. “I used to write about struggling to break out. About feeling the high of getting success. Of being excited. I don’t know what my story is anymore though.” He didn’t. What did he want to say with his music now? That he was an entitled dickhead?
“I’m not sure I can offer you any advice in terms of music.” Harper attempted to unscrew the cap on her water bottle with her fully operational hand.
He reached out and helped her.
“But the thing is, it would seem to me like you should write about what’s important to you right now.”
“Sure, if I knew what was important to me.”
She studied him. “Okay, well, what do you want right now?”
Her. That’s what he wanted. He wanted to peel back the layers of Harper both literally and figuratively and explore her thoroughly from head to toe. He didn’t want to terrify her though. He had a feeling if he came on too strong Harper would shut him down, hard. “I want to make you smile.”
He was expecting a retort, or an eye roll but to his complete appreciation Harper blushed, her eyelashes sweeping down to hide her deep brown eyes.
“I am smiling,” she said. “Thanks for taking me out. It was nice of you.”
“I don’t really think nice had much to do with it.” He reached out and brushed a loose hair back off her cheek. “I find you very beautiful and very interesting.”
“I find you shockingly normal,” she said.
That made him grin. “Yeah? How disappointing.”
“I mean, I expected a diva, honestly. Or a brooding asshat. Sure, you’re a flirt, but so far, I think you’re a really nice guy, Stryker Evans.”
A ringing endorsement. He wasn’t an asshat. It made him want to laugh but something else was bothering him. Stryker was his stage name and he felt like Stryker ninety percent of the time. But right now, he wanted to just be the normal guy she was shocked he was. “You can call me Chris if you want.” His stage name sounded almost over-the-top off of her Midwestern lips.
But she shook her head. “No, thanks. Because if I call you Chris you feel like a real guy, on a real date with me. I’d rather not let myself think this is anything other than a fantasy.”
She puzzled him. He didn’t know what to make of her at all. “What is wrong with thinking of me as real?” It felt real to him. Frighteningly real. There was something pull
ing him to her, and while he was enjoying himself, he almost felt melancholy. Something about Harper felt like home. The home he could never create.
“Because I like you,” she said simply. “I’d rather be your muse or a friend than another notch on your bedpost.”
He didn’t even know what to do with that. It wasn’t an attitude he encountered very often. Or ever. But he found it to be the sexiest thing on the planet. “Let’s go get my guitar,” he said.
Harper’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes, I’m feeling inspired.” He was. Suddenly, he had words again and they all revolved around the nerd girl with the penchant for pop culture metaphors. “Want to check out my tour bus with me?” He quickly added, “That’s not a come on. The driver is always there, you’re perfectly safe from my perverted rockstar moves.”
Stryker wanted her, there was no question about that. But if sleeping with her was going to ruin this- a genuine connection with another human being- then he wasn’t about to screw that up for a night of physical pleasure.
“I trust you. Now help me up out of this picnic table. I never realized how often I use two hands to stand up, what the hell?” She was struggling to get herself up and out from behind the bench.
He wasn’t sure how to help her so he just ended up picking her up. “Swing your legs.”
“Ah!” she squawked. “Put me down.”
“No. I’m helping you. Stop kicking your legs.” She was wiggling, trying to get out of his grip.
Harper went still. “This is very awkward.”
“What’s awkward is you squirming like a toddler.” He took a heel in his shin and grunted, but he got her up and over the bench and back on the ground.
She gave him a look of admonishment. “I wanted to just hold onto your arm. I didn’t need you to pick me up. My God, you’ve probably thrown your back out.”
That annoyed him. He was about done with her acting like she was a two ton tauntaun. She wasn’t the only one who could think in Star Wars terms. “For the record, you are an entire head shorter than me and most likely fifty pounds lighter than me. Don’t insult my strength and manhood. I may spend my nights on stage, but I do hit the gym on a regular basis.” He resisted the urge to flex his muscles for her.
Finding Chris Evans: The Rockstar Edition Page 3
