For now, she’d have to take his word for it. “Okay,” she finally said. “Thanks.”
They walked over to his car and Paige was surprised when he opened the passenger door and waited for her to climb in.
Quite the gentlemanly move.
When he climbed in beside her, she noticed several things at once: First, the car was incredibly high-tech. Second, the leather seats felt like butter and hugged her like they were made just for her. And third, Dylan Anders smelled really good.
Like really, really good.
So not the thing to focus on right now.
“There actually is a Whole Foods not too far from here,” she said.
Beside her, Dylan nodded. “I don’t live too far, so I’m familiar with it. Is that where you normally shop?”
“Um…yeah. It’s close to the office, and I go by it on my way home.”
“I love their deli department. They have some great salads,” he said conversationally. “I’m not a great cook, so I appreciate their selection of ready-to-go stuff. And their salads are always so fresh. I’ll probably grab some dinner for myself while we’re there.”
Were they seriously having this conversation? He was a rock star with one of the biggest bands in the world and this was the kind of conversation she inspired? Grocery shopping?
Well, that was a depressing thought. She was so plain and boring that this particular rock star was talking produce with her.
Fabulous.
She made a mental note to add ice cream to her list.
They made it to the store, and while she had been having an inner dialogue over the pity party that was about to be her weekend, Dylan had kept up a running dialogue about shopping and how much he was enjoying doing things for himself. Obviously, there was an extended period of time when he’d had hired help to do everything for him.
Tough to feel sorry for the poor, little, rich rock star.
“I can tell by the look on your face that you’re making assumptions again,” he said, his voice soft and somewhat close to her ear. They were walking through the produce section, and he was practically pressed up behind her as he spoke. Paige nearly jumped out of her skin.
Maybe it was his nearness. Maybe it was the heat coming off him, but either way, she wasn’t copping to it.
“This is just…bizarre to me,” she said instead.
“Because…?”
She shrugged and picked out a head of romaine. “I guess when I think of celebrities, I don’t envision them shopping for themselves. Or if they do, they’re incognito or something.”
“So if I had on a hat and sunglasses, and maybe a fake mustache, you’d feel better about this?”
The image that flashed through her mind made her laugh. “I don’t know if I’d feel better, but I’d certainly be more amused.”
“Duly noted,” he said with mock seriousness as he stepped around her and began perusing the fresh vegetables.
For almost an hour, they walked around the store, talking about everything and nothing, and Paige had to admit, it was quite…pleasant. Dylan Anders seemed like a nice guy. Genuine. So maybe she had jumped to conclusions earlier. Maybe he could make a good spokesman for the campaign. And, if she thought about it, he could add a certain edginess to the whole thing that could hit a demographic they wouldn’t have had before.
Her mind made up, Paige was willing to give him a try. Not that she was going to tell him that today—she didn’t want to seem overly anxious—but she would call him on Monday and let him know. Plus, this would give her the weekend to rework some of the promotional spots to include him. And maybe his band. Oh! How cool would it be to have his band do a spot for the campaign and have her be the one to bring them back after their hiatus?
Ideas immediately began to swirl in her mind, and as much as she was enjoying wandering the grocery store with him, now all Paige could focus on was getting home, so she could finesse her ideas.
As much as it pained her to admit, maybe Ariel had been onto something. With the potential of using bigger names in pop culture, it would open up advertising opportunities—they could get onto the music sites and magazines where they could reach out to teens or get national interviews on TV! Her heart started to race with excitement at the possibilities.
Pushing past Dylan, Paige made her way toward the checkout.
“Hey!” he called after her with a small laugh. “Where’s the fire?”
Looking over her shoulder at him, she gave him a distracted smile. “Oh…um…I’m just afraid the AAA guy is going to show up sooner rather than later and thought we should wrap things up here. Is there anything else you need?”
His eyes narrowed like he wasn’t quite sure he believed her, but it lasted only a second. Then he followed her. “Nope. I’m good. I have enough to get me through the weekend.”
Paige looked at their shared cart and frowned. He had purchased an awful lot of food. Single servings. Was it possible that he didn’t lead some glamorous social life like she always imagined musicians did? Would that be too personal of a question to ask?
“So…all of this is for you? For the weekend?” she asked and then immediately wanted to kick herself.
“Sure is. I had thought about going out but”—he shrugged—“I think I’d rather stay in. And besides, did you see this grilled salmon salad? That is definitely tonight’s dinner.”
Was he for real? If this was the life of a rock star, she was seriously disappointed. “Wow,” she said with a chuckle, “and here I was thinking that guys like you were eating steak and lobster and caviar and drinking until dawn and then being driven home because you overindulged.”
He paled. There was no other way to describe the way his entire appearance changed. Oh God. Did she offend him? Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut?
“I mean…” she stammered, immediately trying to backpedal, “that’s just the way I envisioned the life of a rock star. I didn’t mean to offend you. I guess I’ve watched too many documentaries on musicians in the eighties. It was the decade of decadence, right? I guess I didn’t think anything had changed. Sorry.” When he still didn’t move or blink, she stumbled on. “I need to stop making assumptions about you. I swear that was the last one. Really. I…I’m sorry, Dylan.”
Finally, he seemed to snap out of his daze, and he blinked at her and then began walking. “No big deal. Don’t give it another thought. There are people who live like that, but right now, that’s not me. I’m perfectly content to have a quiet weekend at home.”
At the checkout, they divvied up their orders and paid and then made their way to his car. Paige was too afraid to say anything, so instead she sang along to the radio.
Back at the parking garage, he pulled up beside her car and parked. Her tire was still flat, so she hadn’t missed the repair guy. With a sigh, she turned to him. “Thanks for killing time with me. You were right. It was much better than going up to the office. No doubt by now I would be deeply entrenched in things I was hoping to get away from.”
He gave her a small smile. “No problem.” Looking around, he seemed to be considering his next words. “We can grab another coffee or something. You know, since they haven’t called to say that they’re on the way yet.”
It was a tempting offer, but she felt bad about monopolizing his time. Although she could argue that she was using the time to get to know him and make sure he’d be a good fit for her project, but…that seemed a bit wrong.
“Thanks, but…I know you’ve got a trunk full of perishables. And besides, I’m sure they’ll be along soon.”
As if on cue, her cell phone rang, and two minutes later, she confirmed that a truck would arrive within thirty minutes. She relayed the info to Dylan.
“Well, I feel bad leaving you in the parking lot,” he said, shifting in his seat so he could face her. “I have a feeling if no one’s watchin
g, you’ll go work.”
Was she that transparent?
“Maybe…but by the time we transfer my groceries and I check emails on my phone, they’ll probably be here. I can hang in my car for a few minutes and not be tempted to go upstairs.”
“I don’t know,” he said teasingly, but then he shut off the car and opened the door. “I think it wouldn’t take much for you to get annoyed with waiting and go inside.”
Okay, yes. Yes, she was that transparent.
Paige climbed from the car and met him at the trunk and it didn’t take long to move her groceries.
Like, less than a minute.
Dylan shut his trunk and then leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest as he studied her. “Look, far be it from me to tell you how to spend your time or whether you should work or not work. All I’m saying is I don’t mind hanging out if it will keep you from…you know.”
They both chuckled, and for a minute, Paige considered asking him about his career, so she could plan the campaign. Would that be wrong? Inappropriate? Could she—
“Paige? What are you still doing here? Daisy said you left hours ago,” Ariel said as she made her way toward them.
Great. Now she could feel small and insignificant with an audience. Awesome.
“Oh, um…I’ve got a flat and I’m waiting for AAA,” Paige replied and then noticed her sister staring at Dylan. “Ariel, this is—”
“You’re Dylan Anders, right?” Ariel said, ignoring Paige’s attempt at an introduction. “The guitar player?”
Nodding, Dylan glanced at Paige before extending a hand to Ariel. “Bass player, but yeah. And you are?”
“Ariel Blake,” she said smoothly, shaking his hand briefly. “What are you—?”
“Dylan stopped by about the campaign,” Paige said quickly. “Apparently your invitation got to him and he came by the office to talk about participating.”
A serene yet knowing smile played at Ariel’s lips as she looked at her sister. “You see? Just because it wasn’t your idea didn’t mean it was a bad idea.”
“I never said it was a bad idea, Ariel,” Paige murmured, completely mortified that her sister would choose to have this discussion in front of Dylan. “You just sprung it on me. I would have appreciated a heads-up.”
“Either way, I think people will be way more interested in hearing people who are relevant to pop culture, instead of a bunch of literary nerds no one recognizes,” Ariel said and then turned to Dylan. “You agree, don’t you? If you were a kid struggling to read, who would you rather take advice from—a famous guitar player or…or…that Shakespeare guy? I mean, what’s he going to say to kids about reading?”
“Um…probably nothing since he’s dead,” Paige pointed out.
“Exactly,” Ariel agreed, totally missing the sarcasm in Paige’s tone. “He has no idea what today’s teens want to read. But Dylan will be able to relate to them. And really, he’s got more going for him than anyone else on your list.”
“He does?”
“I do?” Dylan asked, his voice a bit squeaky.
Ariel looked between the two of them and nodded. “Absolutely! We can talk about how important reading is to a musician—you know, because he has to read the music.”
Paige slowly closed her eyes and lowered her head in embarrassment, catching the smirk on Dylan’s face as she did so. Didn’t her sister realize that what she said made no sense whatsoever? She had to fight the urge to laugh.
“And then there’s the angle on how he needs to have more advanced reading and writing skills to write music.”
Oh God. She was still talking, wasn’t she?
“Ariel,” Paige said, interrupting her, “I don’t think you need to—”
“But more than anything,” Ariel went on, ignoring Paige’s words, “Dylan can show teens that reading is cool.”
Oh. Okay. “Well, that’s true,” Paige agreed, seeing the somewhat roundabout way her sister came to this conclusion. As a musician, most kids—and some adults—would look at Dylan’s profession as something cool and to be envied, and if he could impress upon them his own love of reading, it might encourage them. She looked over at Dylan and saw him almost sag with relief. Was he as thankful as she was that Ariel was done?
“Anyway, it’s something to consider. I need to go. Dennis is taking me to dinner, and I don’t want to be late.” Ariel turned and extended her hand to Dylan again. “It was nice meeting you and I hope to see you as part of the campaign.”
“Thanks,” he said, shaking her hand. “I hope to be a part of it.”
With a little wave, Ariel started to leave, and Paige’s mind raced about how she could end this conversation with Dylan without offering him a part right now. She was seriously considering it, but she needed a bit more research.
Ariel climbed into her sporty, little, red Porsche and backed out. When she came up alongside them, she lowered her window, her gaze on Dylan. “By the way, I meant to tell you that I hope you’re doing okay. I hear rehab can be a struggle. It’s good to see you out and about.” She paused and smiled. “And I spoke with your manager, and we’re totally cool with you doing this as part of your community service. I’m sure Paige will sign off on whatever you need. Take care!” And with another little wave, she was gone.
Paige felt a little…shocked. Dazed.
Betrayed.
She looked over at Dylan and saw he was pretty much frozen to the spot, his gaze wary.
As it should be, she thought to herself.
Why had no one mentioned this to her? How had she not known? And dammit, why was her sister so completely oblivious and insensitive that she thought it was okay to drop that bombshell here, like that, and right in front of Dylan?
No! Don’t think about Dylan’s feelings, she chided herself. Think about yours! Not only had Ariel gone and messed with her plans, but she was also doing it by asking addicts to help her out? What kind of message was that going to send to people?
“You…you were in rehab?” she asked cautiously.
Dylan nodded.
“For…?”
“Alcohol. Drunk driving. There was an accident. I went and—”
“Was anyone killed?” she asked, hating both the tremble and disgust in her voice.
He shook his head. “No.”
“So all this today—the coming here and schmoozing me—it was to guarantee that you could check community service off your list?”
He seemed to stiffen and Paige could see the anger in his eyes. “It’s not like that.”
Like she could believe him now. “Right. Whatever,” she said with a huff and was saved from saying anything else by the arrival of the AAA truck. There was no point in hiding how she felt. She couldn’t. “Excuse me.” Rather than say anything else to Dylan, Paige greeted the driver and showed him her car. With any luck, Dylan would take the hint that their conversation was over and leave.
Unfortunately, five minutes later, when she looked over her shoulder, he was still there, leaning arrogantly against his car, arms still crossed. He thought he could wait her out? Fine, she thought. He can stand there all night if he wants to, but once my tire is fixed, I’m out of here.
And she wouldn’t give Dylan Anders a second thought.
Chapter 3
He knew the instant Paige had completely written him off. She had a very expressive face and honestly, she didn’t even try to hide the disdain she was feeling toward him. Well, he had a surprise for her—he wasn’t feeling too kindly toward her either. It was one thing to judge a person when you had all the facts, but it was another to do it when you knew nothing!
Why he was surprised, he couldn’t say. After all, he was used to people judging him, but usually they had good reason to. One flippant comment from her sister, and all of a sudden the camaraderie they had established this afternoon was gone
? What did that say for the kind of person she was?
And why should he care? From the beginning, he hadn’t been interested in doing this. He’d told Mick so. The best thing for him to do would be to move on.
It probably wouldn’t be hard to find a way to get his hours in without being made to feel worse about himself than he already did. Hell, if he looked hard enough, Dylan had no doubt he could find a place or a cause that would love to have him—even be grateful for him—and then he’d be able to tell Miss Paige Walters to kiss his ass and good luck with her boring campaign.
That had him laughing a little—just imagining the look on her face if he said that to her. It would be the most satisfying thing to happen to him in months.
“Thank you so much,” Paige was saying to the AAA driver. “I appreciate your help. I had no idea how to go about finding the leak.”
“You need to take the car in and get the tire replaced. The patch is all fine and good as a temporary fix, but it’s not a long-term solution.”
“I’ll take it in on Monday,” she replied. “And again, thank you.”
Dylan watched as she signed some paperwork and then took out some cash to tip the man. With a word of thanks, the AAA representative turned and seemed to notice Dylan.
And then he noticed Dylan.
Great.
“Oh, man! You’re Dylan Anders, right?”
It would be pointless to play dumb, and the man had Paige blocked in, so the longer Dylan stood here and talked to the guy, the longer she’d have to stand there and stew.
“Yes, I am!” he said with a full-blown grin. He held out his hand and gave the guy a hearty handshake and then proceeded to talk to him about everything from his favorite Shaughnessy song to his taste in other music.
Paige cleared her throat. Loudly. But Dylan ignored it.
“Would you mind signing something for me?” the guy asked.
“Not at all! I’ll sign as much as you’d like. Take something to the guys at the garage too!”
“Um…excuse me,” Paige said with a hint of annoyance, “but I need to get going. Could you move the truck?”
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