by Cari Quinn
“Oh, sweet Jesus.” He shook his head and nudged her ahead of him as he opened the door. “Go left.”
“Left. Right.”
“No, left.”
She sighed and just did as he asked, finding herself stepping into a brightly lit, small shop for the bowling aficionado. Gear from shoes to bags to clothes—clothes?—hung from every wall and the rafters. She could even purchase a miniature bowler for her desk.
“What size are you?” West asked, going right to the rack of jackets. The ones in front were a bright pink satin that reminded her of Grease.
“Um, ten. Twelve with boobs.”
He glanced at her, tossing an errant blond curl that had escaped his man-bun out of his eyes. “Do they detach? Never mind. I know I won’t win that one.” He flipped through the hangers on the rack. “Here you go. Try this on.”
She gave him the pizza box and took the jacket, sliding it on with a purr of pleasure. “Oh wow, this feels wonderful. So soft inside. Fleece?” She brushed her fingers over it and sighed. “I feel like I’m back in the days of Laverne and Shirley. I used to watch that old show in reruns when I was little.” She glanced up at West, who was staring at her oddly with his lips drawn in. “What’s wrong? Does it look weird?”
Before he could answer, she moved to the glass windows on the side of the shop that faced the arcade and bowling alley. She turned sideways, studying herself in the glass. “I actually kind of love it,” she declared, pulling her thin wallet out of her back pocket. She’d left her purse in Ethan’s car, just bringing her phone, wallet and lipstick into the arena. “It might not be the best fashion statement, but I’m a trendsetter.”
West was already sauntering up the checkout area. He pointed at her in the jacket, then nodded and fished out his own wallet.
Swallowing hard, she fumbled for the price tag. And blinked. The price did not change. What? Was this thing lined with gold threads? It was not cheap, and truthfully, if she had known the price, it would’ve been out of her budget for such a frivolous item. She couldn’t wear it all the time. For one, she lived in southern California, and two, a bowling jacket wasn’t the usual wardrobe choice.
But this one…sigh. She already kind of loved it. And now she owed West for this jacket, which meant she’d have to pay him back in the future. Future meant that even after tonight she’d have reason to contact him.
Or his assistant. Or—gasp—ninja blond manager who collects organs to feed to her pet anaconda.
West strolled back to her, pizza box under his arm, and she smiled. “Thank you for this. I’ll repay you. Do you have an assistant?”
“For what?” He looked around as if he was truly baffled. “Do I look like I need assistance?”
God, she could really fall for this guy. He had no affectations whatsoever. True, she’d only known him for a couple hours, but already there was something there.
“I meant you know, because rock god and all.” She’d been teasing, but his eyeroll was so gratifying. He wasn’t some cocky dude with an ego big enough to eat Seattle. So far, he just seemed sweet and nice and hot as hell.
Was that even possible when it came to rockstars? She had no frame of reference.
She stepped closer and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for the jacket. I’ll pay you back. I’m between jobs right now—long story—but soon as I get a new position, I’ll send you a check.” Easing back, she frowned. “Maybe I’ll send cash. I think my bank account is closed.”
“Let’s call it even and split the difference.” He slung his free arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the shop and into the arcade. “So how do you feel about Goth Avenger?”
“Is that a championship bowling team or something?” She turned her head slightly and seeing his fingers dangling right there made her follow impulse and reach up to grab his hand.
“Hardly.” He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Only the best arcade game in the history of life.”
Tugging her over to the last machine in a line of them, he set down the pizza box on the floor beside the machine and fed some dollars into a coin changer. He got back what seemed like a serious amount of coins and stuffed them into his pockets as if they were gold doubloons. He dumped a couple into the machine and grabbed one of the joysticks, taking his stance and spreading his legs.
While he was occupied, she might have moved back to see how his ass looked in his jeans, but she would never admit it.
“Okay, here we go. You’ve never played, so let me run through the basics for you.” Realizing she wasn’t still beside him, he glanced over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Checking out your ass.”
So much for not admitting it.
He swiped his tongue over his teeth. “And the verdict?”
“Not tight enough, but from what I can see, thumbs up.” She grinned and moved into his side, tucking closer as he slung his arm around her shoulder again. “I’m an ass woman, I’ve decided.”
“Objectifying me yet again. I like it. You want to play this game or what?”
She wiggled her fingers over her joystick. She’d played a lot of video games during her years in private school. Just because she wasn’t familiar with this one didn’t mean she doubted her abilities. “Prepare to be decimated.”
Twenty minutes later, he conceded defeat. In West’s case, that meant moving on to the next game he thought he could school her on. This one, however, she knew all too well.
“Monkey Madness? Dude, you may want to rethink this life choice.” She flexed her biceps, though they weren’t really visible due to the puffy jacket. “Your manhood may seriously be threatened by the end of this night.”
“Bring it.” He poured in more coins and gave his joystick a smack that made her think of him possibly smacking other things.
Like her ass.
Whoa, okay, so maybe slow your roll on the Tumblr scrolling, huh? Turning kinky when you haven’t even figured out vanilla.
She grabbed her joystick and sucked in a breath. “If I win, what do I get?”
He gave her one of those sidelong glances he’d perfected and tucked his tongue into his cheek. “What do you want?”
She grinned and focused on the screen. “I’ll tell you when I win.”
By the time he smacked the joystick again in certain defeat, she’d shed her beloved jacket and tied off the Warning Sign shirt at her waist to try to relieve the heat drenching her skin. Playing video games was sweaty work, especially when you were possibly gambling for sex acts.
Not that he knew that yet.
She also hadn’t fully summoned her courage to make that her prize, though she was becoming more and more sure it would be. Her own personal joy button was practically throbbing every time he manipulated his stick. Muscles bunched in his forearm, and his veins stood out in sharp relief with every movement. His fingers were deft and sure, his intensity as he glared at the screen palpable.
As much as she tried, she couldn’t stop from sneaking glances at him. He was utterly lickable.
Her distraction was how he avoided a hurling barrel and spun around to do a crazy dance right in front of her. His character, not actually him. But from his whoop of delight, he just might dance too.
She’d pay to see that.
“Busted. How you like them bananas?” He shook the joystick again and grinned at her and she prayed she wouldn’t screw this up.
If she couldn’t handle a normal, regular guy, this one was miles out of her league. Not because he was a rockstar. Not because he was beautiful. But because he was fun and exciting and real in a way she’d never encountered before.
She wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
“Lauren? You okay?” He frowned. “What’s your last name, by the way?”
The question chased away her momentary blues. If he wanted her last name, he must not be quite ready for this night to end yet either. “Bryant. Born in Seattle, currently a resident of Claremont, Californ
ia.”
If he thought it odd she offered that much information, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead his gaze brightened even in the dim blue and pink beams coming from the overhead track lights. The place reminded her of the underwater exhibit at the zoo. Dark with funky lights that gave it an otherworldly feel.
Or that could’ve been because she was there with West.
“California,” he said softly, and she got his meaning without an explanation.
“California,” she echoed, knowing full well where Warning Sign was based. She’d done enough research on that to be able to recite West’s scant online bio.
She moved closer and hooked her fingers in the belt loops of his jeans. “So you won. What’s your prize?”
Saying nothing, he picked up the pizza box and her jacket and tugged her over to the bowling lanes. “Pretty sure I already found it,” he said against her hair. “I always liked Cracker Jacks.”
“Oh, so I’m your toy in the box?”
“No, but your box might be my toy.” He waggled his brows.
“Dirty.” She laughed and sat down in one of the circular booths near the lane on the end. Most of them were occupied by college students and people out on dates. Everyone was laughing and having a good time, and the DJ in the corner was spinning tunes from just about every decade. “So I don’t know how to bowl. Just throw the ball and hope for the best?”
Slowly, he shook his head. “Oh, the schooling you’re about to get. What size shoe you need? I’ll go get them.”
“Ten.” She shrugged at his cocked head. “Dainty girl. What can I say?”
“You look built just right to me. Be right back.”
He returned with two pairs of shoes a couple minutes later and sat down beside her to put his on. “I’ll go first. Show you how it’s done.” He stood and picked up a bright pink bowling ball, fitting his fingers in the holes. “After I take my turn, I’ll explain some of the finer points.”
“‘Kay.” She batted her lashes at him. “Go get ‘em, big boy.”
His grin was pure lethal destruction. “The lady doth know of whence she speaks.”
He took his spot at the end of the lane, lined up his shot, and let the ball go with a roll of his arm that was impressive. Equally impressive when he took out all pins but two and his score registered on the screen. He got another chance to knock down his remaining pins and took out one.
“Yay! Great job.” She popped to her feet and grabbed her own ball out of the carousel. The shoes were pinching her toes, but she was focused on mirroring what she’d seen.
“Okay, so what you’re going to want to do is—”
She breezed past him and let her ball fly with no technique whatsoever. It careened wildly down the lane, somehow managing to take out all ten pins in one shot. As the words perfect ten flashed on the screen, she turned back to him and closed his gaping lips with her fingers.
“Like that?” she asked sweetly.
“Damn, can’t you pretend to lose like every other woman I’ve bowled with?”
She thought it over for a minute. “Nope.”
“Good.” He grinned and tipped up her chin for a quick kiss. “Now stand back and watch a master at work.”
She stepped back and cocked her head as he bent into his shot. Baggy jeans were no match for his full body swing.
Supremely perfect butt achievement unlocked.
“Oh, I am,” she murmured.
Six
If someone had told her she’d get to spend an evening with a rockstar, she definitely wouldn’t have figured they’d close down the bowling alley.
“So now what?” Lauren asked, clutching her large, color-changing plastic travel cup with Cosmic Rama splashed on the side.
Along with being sweet and sexy, West liked buying her things. He didn’t even think twice about spending money on her. Granted, he probably had some cash to spare, but he wasn’t Mick Jagger, and she wasn’t anything more than a passing fancy in his life.
If even that.
When he didn’t respond right away, she figured this was it. She’d told Ethan not to wait for her before going home, and now West was going to say “it’s been real” and send her on her way.
She wouldn’t blame him, of course. They’d spent all evening together, and it was the middle of the night. He hadn’t even gotten to take a shower after his crazy set onstage. He was probably sweaty and worn out.
Maybe even afraid she’d want to collect on her orgasm request.
He seemed like a great guy, but she didn’t want to put the whole virgin thing on his head. One of the few men she’d dated had explained the whole “first time” deal carried a lot of weight. If a woman waited to have sex, that meant she had attached certain expectations to the act. Probably emotion too. So the guy she ultimately banged would worry she would get all heart-eyed afterward and make the encounter more than it actually was.
That might be true for so-called normal women. As for her, she just was curious about sex. She wasn’t going to fall in love with the first guy who managed to get her off.
Maybe give him a tiny medal or something, but not fall in love. Did she look like a walking cliché? Hell to the no.
She was a liberated woman, who at this very moment was gazing longingly at the man who had bought her a satin pink jacket and now held the fate of her libido in his hands.
No big.
“It’s okay if you want to end the night here.” She bent down to adjust her shoe. If she didn’t have blisters on both feet, it would be a miracle.
The up side was she’d sort of learned to walk in the buggers over the course of the evening. At least he hadn’t made fun of her for stumbling around.
“Actually, I don’t. I’d like for you to come back to the bus.”
Still bent over, she glanced up at him. “Your tour bus?”
His lips twitched. “No, my Greyhound. Yes, the tour bus. Is—what about the guy you’re with?”
“What about him?”
“I figure he’s looking for you.”
“I told him I was fine. I’ll talk to him again in the morning.” She regained her full height and aimed a pointed look at his pocket. “Assuming you return my phone.”
“We’ll see. I’ll probably let you go home eventually.”
She shouldn’t like the sound of that. “Well, since my ride is gone and I’d have to Uber or bus it back with oh, probably thirty-one dollars and eleven cents in my pocket, I’d say don’t rush on my account.”
He frowned. “I’ll give you money to get home after.”
“After what? Sexual intercourse?”
“You need to work on your vocabulary. Try calling it fucking more often. Sounds hotter. And no,” he added, taking her hand and tugging her up the street. “I’m not inviting you back to the bus just to get you naked.”
“Aww.” She hurried to keep up with him, grimacing at the pinch in her toes and her abraded heels.
“You’ve gotta be the most honest woman I’ve ever met.” He glanced back. “What’s wrong with your shoes?”
“I hate them and want to leave them in the road to be flattened by a semi. Otherwise, they’re awesome. I don’t suppose you could carry me back to the bus? I could repay you in probably sloppily done oral favors, but the effort would be there.”
“Has to be the sexiest offer I’ve ever received.” His grin blazed through the darkness. Between that and his warm fingers curling around hers, she almost didn’t care that it was starting to rain.
Again.
They hurried through the darkened, rain-splattered streets back to where they’d started. As the arena swam into focus, she couldn’t squelch her groan. “Are we there yet?”
“Surprisingly close. You can take a shower and put on slippers when we get to the bus. Molly has extras. She does lots of pedicure thingies.”
“I’m sure she’d be thrilled you pay such little attention to her beauty routine.”
“Eh, she’s like my cranky sister.”
“I hear that.” Thinking of Ethan, Lauren nodded and scurried after West. He still held her hand, but his super long strides ate up pavement faster than she could keep up in her hell shoes.
They circled the arena—which took forever and a day—then looped a path through the nearly empty parking lot at the rear of the building. Finally, the nirvana that was the long bus parked way in back came into view.
“Thank God.”
“Almost there.”
Grimacing, she nodded and kept going. She craned her neck in search of groupies, hoping to get in a little research time before she stepped into West’s lair. But no one was around, save a couple of girls passing a cigarette—okay, probably not a cigarette—back and forth as they eyed the bus from their spot along the guardrail a few feet away. They didn’t make a move to come closer, and West paid them no mind.
Must be he wasn’t the member of Warning Sign they were after. Lauren frowned. She herself hadn’t noticed West first out of the bandmates, but now she couldn’t understand how anyone could miss him.
After a short while in his company, he was already everything. A life force she couldn’t look away from. Just the scent of his sweat and his soap and she could’ve sworn an electric charge went through her.
The man was magnetic. Seriously intriguing, and not just because of his incredible talent. That was only one part of the whole. But if she was the only one who knew that—at least tonight—well, she didn’t really mind. She was more than happy to keep him to herself, research project or not. She could always pick his brain on his experiences with fans.
Fans like you? Fans he brings back to his bus to fuck?
She could only hope on that last one.
West let her go long enough to do some kind of complicated hand knock that had the bus door folding open. A pretty dark-haired woman seated in the driver’s seat propped her elbow on the wheel and her head on her hand. “This the girl I heard so much about? Bennie?”
West glanced at Lauren. “Her name is Lauren.”
