by Cari Quinn
Manster
Rockstar Romantic Comedy
Cari Quinn
Taryn Elliott
Rainbow Rage Publishing
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They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Manster
© 2017 Cari Quinn & Taryn Elliott
Rainbow Rage Publishing
Cover by LateNite Designs
All Rights Are Reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First ebook edition: November 2017
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Created with Vellum
Contents
Acknowledgements
Join our Newsletters
Author’s Note
1. Piper
2. Wyatt
3. Piper
4. Piper
5. Wyatt
6. Piper
7. Wyatt
8. Piper
9. Wyatt
10. Piper
11. Wyatt
12. Piper
13. Wyatt
14. Piper
15. Wyatt
16. Piper
Epilogue
Perfect Pitch
MORE Rockers
LET YOUR VOICE BE HEARD
Also by Cari & Taryn
Lost in Oblivion Series
About the Authors
Acknowledgements
Sometimes we make up fictional places that end up having the same names as actual places. These are our fictional interpretations only. Please grant us leeway if our creative vision isn't true to reality.
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Author’s Note
Some of the events mentioned in the epilogue of Manster serve as a spoiler for the Found in Oblivion rockstar series. If you read that series as well and aren’t up to date yet, perhaps save Manster’s epilogue until you’re all caught up.
1
Piper
September
Some pussies were better than others.
I climbed up my step stool for what felt like the hundredth time today. Mostly because my insane cat, Rosie, kept leaping up to tear down the decorations I’d put up for Callie Blackwell. Hence, my current disgust with my pussy—err, cat. I really wanted my place perfect for Callie’s baby shower, and Rosie was not helping.
Callie had been one of the first people who had befriended me when I moved to Los Angeles. Now here she was, married and having a baby. Our lives had changed drastically in just a few short years.
I had my place—Rosie & Hank’s Pussy Palace Cafe. But, well, it had just become The Pussy Palace by default. It had cracked me up when I named it, and occasionally I got a whole different kind of customer walking through the door, but I’d become a staple on this crazy corner on Santa Monica Boulevard.
West Hollywood was my kind of place. I’d lucked out getting this crazy property at an auction. The building had been downright offensive when I bought it. Infested with rats, roof in shambles, windows dingy.
But I was Frank Lockwood’s daughter. I could fix anything.
And while my dad had been shocked and appalled when I put my life savings and a soul-crushing mortgage on the building, he’d been there with me every day until it was safe, secure, and the windows gleamed.
It had become one of the prime properties on the block and I’d been able to parcel out two storefronts—The Pussy Palace and a little bakery named The Truffle Shuffle. Levi, the owner of the bakery, and I traded wares and it made for a really nice partnership.
I wound the green ribbon around the huge pipe that snaked its way around the main entertaining area. With any luck, Rosie was at the opposite end of the huge cat crawlspace.
When a rust-colored arm swiped out and went for the ribbon, I made the universal sound for “Back off, buddy” in cat-speak and Rosie’s arm slunk back into the carpeted darkness.
As usual, I had no luck. At least when it came to getting anything done in a timely manner with my insane Abyssinian cats. Then again, they were the reason I had this cafe, and my secondary job of creating cat furniture.
I hopped down off the step stool and picked up one of the scraps of the ribbon. I grabbed Rosie’s favorite catnip snake and wound the ribbon around it, making little knots so she couldn’t get it free, and climbed back up just in time to see her tear through another line of crepe paper and ribbon.
“Rosie, you little shit.” I tossed the snake into the hole of the pipe and got a growly chirp, followed by a rolling purr. “Yeah, I thought so.”
Catnip had very different reactions for Rosie versus Hank, my other Aby. Hank would be blissed out and staring into space. Rosie would be meowing and arching in semi-orgasmic bliss for the next fifteen minutes.
Enough time for me to finish up the last of the decorations.
I’d closed the cafe for the morning to do the Jack and Jill baby shower. I’d done plenty of parties thanks to the dozen cats roaming in my cat cafe. It made the perfect atmosphere for an adoption party, or a kids’ birthday party.
Especially when the stars of the cafe cooperated.
I glanced over at the highest cat cubby on the huge climbing wall I’d created. Hank was currently in a coma. But his current level of sedation was only because he didn’t have an active audience. He’d be ready to go as soon as the first person walked through the door. He loved to perform for anyone who gave him attention. Which of course got Rosie going.
Then Mercy, my Bengal, would come out with her regal stare and steal the show with her striking markings. Damn showoff.
I had currently adopted out a good number of the last crop of cats. Working with Love ‘n Paws meant I had an eternal number of cats on the premises, and some in quarantine in the back that needed to be cared for.
Callie and her husband’s bandmate, Keys, were volunteers for Love ‘n Paws along with Hammered’s lead singer’s wife, Kennedy Jordan, who was a huge activist for the community.
All in all, they were a wonderful bunch of women whose word of mouth had definitely helped push The Pussy Palace into one of the trendiest places on the Strip.
Which made me want to make this baby shower even more special.
The door between my shop and Levi’s opened with a blast of music. Hammered music to be exact. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me I was making a baby cake for Owen Blackwell’s baby mama.”
“Wife, Levi.”
“Semantics, dear Piper. She’s got the bambina, so she’s got all the power. At least for now. Then the baby will be the ruler of the household. At least that’s the way it worked with my ma.”
I rolled my eyes. Only Levi would think he had control in a Spanish woman’s household. Especially one as strong willed as Martine Vega. Most of Levi’s recipes had been handed down through the Vega family and then he’d bastardized them with his culinary school skills.
Which made Truffle Shuffle one of the best bakeries in the area. And why I had an extra five pounds o
n my ass. Damn chocolate empanadas were going to be the reason I had to go up a size in jeans.
I rushed over to the table I’d set up for the desserts. He’d already brought over the damn empanadas in both chocolate and jam filled, as well as a host of other ridiculously rich things. But man, that cake. “That’s gorgeous, Levi.”
He preened a little. “I added the lattice buttercream this morning.”
Two tiers of midnight buttercream frosted chocolate cake with Levi’s famous orange zest filling dominated the funky Halloween pedestal I’d ordered. My mouth was already watering. Maybe I’d just order those jeans anyway.
Huge sugar flowers spilled from the top tier onto the second in the ruby and orange tones of the autumn season Callie loved so much. A little scarecrow family was perched on the edge of the top tier.
“At the risk of inflating your ego any further, I’m going to gush all over you.” I hovered around him as he placed the pedestal on the table.
Levi glanced over his shoulder as his eyebrows shot up. “Well, then.” He moved over next to me. “Allow me to enjoy the gushing.”
I elbowed him in the gut. “Ass.”
“I do have a superior culo. Not as nice as yours though.”
My ears flamed and I tucked a hank of my ridiculously thick hair back into my messy bun. I had no idea what to say to that. I never did. Football scores, baseball stats, hell, even soccer scores—that I understood. I could talk to guys all damn day.
What I could not do was speak girl. Especially to a member of the opposite sex.
I cleared my throat. “You didn’t post a picture, did you?”
“No.” Levi crossed his arms over his gray pinstriped chef’s jacket. “It was difficult, but I didn’t share it on my media accounts.”
“I know. I’m sorry. As soon as the party is over, you can post it everywhere. I just don’t want the fans figuring out the guys and girls are going to be here. I want everything—”
“Perfect for Callie. Yes, I know.”
The bell over the door chimed and about six cats zipped around the room and headed for hiding spots. My newest acquisition, an adolescent tuxedo male, scampered around the top of the climbing wall and dove into one of the cat cubbies. The one problem with rescue cats was they were a little shy sometimes.
I understood all too well.
“Do you want to meet the band?”
Levi stood up a little taller. “They’re going to be here?”
As usual Levi only half listened to anything I said. “Yes. It’s a Jack and Jill baby shower, remember.” I pointed to the huge chalkboard drawing I’d stayed up all damn night coloring in. “Callie and Owen.”
“Oh. For all I knew, you were just incorporating the dad stuff into the festivities.”
“Yes, because he’s coming,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth before heading to the front of my shop. I slipped through the huge glass partition I’d created between the cafe and the cat lounge. It served two purposes, separating the food from the animals to follow the letter of the law, and to stop sly little Houdini cats from escaping.
“Stay here.” I automatically checked for any escapees and closed the door behind me.
The front of the cafe was decked out in more of the purple, orange, and black color theme I’d discussed with Keys. Callie and Owen had an affinity for Halloween. And even though it was barely September, we went with it.
Keys was hopping up and down next to a quietly amused Kennedy. She waved. “Hurry. They’re coming.”
“We’re all ready.” I said through the glass as I unlocked the door.
Keys looked over her shoulder. “Callie’s waddling pretty damn fast. Stupid yoga keeping her all active and shit. She’s exhausting.” Keys picked up two bags off the sidewalk and pushed her way inside.
Kennedy smiled and gave me a warm hug. “Don't mind Crazy. She’s on her third cup of coffee.”
I hugged her back before stepping back and making room for more bags. I hurried forward to help Kennedy. Another four bags were outside. “So I should put together a herbal tea for her?”
“And I need one of those Rosies,” Keys called as she sailed through the back of the cafe to the cat room. The Rosie was an espresso shot—aptly named after my insane Abyssinian cat.
My eyebrows climbed up my forehead. They matched Kennedy’s. “Is there such thing as a decaf espresso?” she asked.
“No.”
Kennedy sighed. “Thought not. Can you name it coffee and use decaf?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said with a laugh.
“Bless you.” Kennedy took the bags from me. “There’s a ton more coming with the men.”
A streaking cat darted through the cafe and made for the door.
“Maya, don’t you dare,” I shouted, but it was too late.
The Siamese cat stalled in her tracks as she was blocked by a pair of huge feet and legs that seemed to go on forever. As well as the endless miles of dark pants in some insanely expensive blend. Not because I knew fashion. I was a jeans girl after all, but I lived in LA.
I knew money when I saw it.
If the clothes weren’t expensive enough on their own, they’d obviously been tailor-made for the ridiculously oversized man standing in my doorway. His perfectly styled cinnamon hair was pushed away from his face, but even the cut couldn’t hide the stubborn curl to it. Or the light streaks of sunlight that might be from a stylist’s chair. Even if something inside me said nope.
I had no basis for fact there, but there it was. Only the feel of his personality colored by Callie’s words.
His name was Hudson Wyatt, and he was a sexy, arrogant jerk, judging from the bits and pieces I’d gathered from Callie. Except when it came to Callie. Then Wyatt seemed sweet.
Callie talked about her best friend all the time, and yet he’d never come into my shop. Probably because of the feline persuasion that ruled my life. According to Callie, he wasn’t an animal lover.
That little fact should have tempered my inner clench. Then again, he was wearing aviators so I didn’t really have a chance. Shallow, maybe, but damn if a man didn’t look deliciously fine when he wore them.
Though I wished he wasn’t right then because I couldn’t see what his damn eyes looked like.
However, the flat line of his lips certainly backed up Callie’s words. I was pretty sure he wasn’t wild about the cat mewling adoringly at him.
Maya and I were both staring, dumbstruck. At least Maya was allowed to purr out loud. And she did. Whoa boy, did she.
So much so that I shot a startled look down at the shop cat. She usually had two moods. Hate and disinterest. She’s been a resident since I’d opened my doors and never took to anyone. Not even me, no matter how hard I tried.
Figured the Adonis of a man filling my doorway would do it.
Damn traitorous cat.
“I feed you, you know,” I muttered. But as usual, Maya ignored me. This time with an ulterior motive in mind.
The hot ginger.
Maya wound herself between his legs and her purring came with an extra bit of talking in between.
The man stiffened. “You do know that’s cashmere you’re slinking around, right, cat?”
“Sorry about that.” I tried to scoop her up, but the cat darted out of reach then returned to head-butt Wyatt’s calf as he walked in the door.
“You’re the idiot wearing cashmere to a Cat Cafe.” Came a familiar voice behind him. “Don’t mind Wyatt. He’s a grump.”
“Only for you would I come into a place like this, Sunshine.”
I closed the door after Callie came through and pushed the big dude out of my way. Hot or not, I was proud of my place. “Oh, sweetie. Look at you.”
Callie patted her well-rounded belly. “Everyone in a five-block radius can look at me.”
“Oh, stop. You’re beautiful.” I awkwardly hugged her. Mostly because my short self and arms couldn’t get around her. So I moved to the side instead and pulled he
r down so I could get an arm around her neck. “So beautiful. I can’t believe you changed so much in just a month.” I stepped back.
“Yeah, well the kid decided to expand his or her horizons here at the end.”
“Still don’t know the sex?”
“No. Keeping it a surprise. Though a certain Irishman is driving me crazy with questions. He’s sure I must be able to tell somehow.” Callie’s smile wreathed her face, and I felt a twinge in a place I should not.
The area labeled “love and romance and family” that I resoundingly ignored.
“Aww, that’s sweet.”
The bell rung again and another wave of people came in. “What did you all do, carpool?”
“Used the bus actually,” Owen said as he came through the door.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Need it for me. I can barely fit in the front seat of the sports car this one loves so much.” Callie nodded to Owen.
“If you’d decide on a family car, we’d be done with it, yeah?”
“I’m not a minivan girl. I don’t care what you say.”
“Doesn’t have to be a bleedin’ minivan.”
“Or a boat of a SUV. It’s not good for the environment.”
Owen rolled his eyes. “I offered to buy you a hybrid.”
“And then there’s no power. Right, Wyatt?”
Wyatt pushed up the sleeves of his sage green sweater. “If I had my way you’d be behind a five-point harness pre-kid and both of you after kid. I know a guy.”
