“Christmas can’t be in July. There’s no snow.”
He bumped her shoulder. “It can be anytime we choose.”
“Does this mean I have to buy presents?”
Avery laughed. “No. No presents. Just a tree and lots of food. Oh, and ugly sweaters.”
Wylder groaned. “It shouldn’t surprise me that Becks has become an ugly sweater man, but you?”
He smiled, his eyes shifting to Nari in the booth. “It’s fun, Wylder.”
“Sure sure.” She stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a rock star to stalk.”
Avery arched a brow. “Pretty sure that’s frowned upon here.”
Yes, well so was most of the stuff she did at school. Stealing gate codes, sneaking people on and off campus, pulling pranks.
Frowned upon was her middle name. Wylder Frowned Upon Anderson.
She shot Avery a wink, and he groaned, mumbling something about her being too much like Becks.
He wasn’t wrong.
She slipped out into the long hall, glancing each way before turning toward the reception area. The same woman still sat behind the desk, but it was the man talking to her that had her steps faltering.
Luke Cook.
Her celebrity crush. The man who could make her cry with his music. And Wylder was not a crier. She stayed in the hall, looking around the corner. His voice drifted toward her, a gruff, snippy voice. “We’re taking a lunch break. Make sure the fridge in the studio is restocked by the time we get back. It’s only half full now.”
“Of course.” To the woman’s credit, she didn’t fluster at his rudeness.
Who would have thought? Luke Cook was a jerk.
And still, she couldn’t help herself stepping into view. “Why don’t you stock the fridge yourself? Your hands broken?” Wylder didn’t know what possessed her to intrude, but she hadn’t liked his tone, no matter who he was or how much she loved him—in a total fan kind of way at least.
He looked at her, not saying a word. The crease between his brows deepened. “I’m Luke Cook.”
He said it as if that was an excuse for rudeness. “And?” The butterflies her fandom propelled in her vanished. “You think that gives you some magical power that turns sour words into candy?”
“I’m Luke Cook.” As if repeating himself made his meaning any clearer. He was a rock star so he could do whatever he wanted.
What he didn’t know was her brother was also famous. Becks might be ridiculously dense sometimes, but he treated people with respect.
He pressed his lips together, surveying her as if seeing her for the first time.
She crossed her arms. “If the next words out of your mouth are I’m Luke Cook, I’ll most likely punch you.”
“Most likely?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes narrowed. “I never really know what I’m capable of until it happens. But you have a punchable face.” She cringed at those words. It wasn’t punchable at all. In fact, it was a beautiful face, but the mind behind it had been steeped in entitlement.
He studied her for one moment longer before looking to the door. “My brothers are waiting.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and left.
“I’ll bet they are,” Wylder muttered. The entire world knew he had a twin who was supposedly nicer than Luke, but he’d mentioned multiple brothers, right?
And here she was thinking she knew everything about him.
“Huh.” She turned to the wide-eyed woman behind the desk. “I’m sorry some people are jerks.”
“Oh, um. He was fine. Really.”
Wylder wondered how many people regretted meeting Luke Cook. “It’s such a shame that face and that music is wasted on a jerk.”
“Luke isn’t usually a jerk.” She straightened her glasses.
“Sure. I’m sure he craps puppies and rainbows and eats unicorn dust for breakfast.”
Wylder was used to others not understanding her, so the woman’s wide eyes didn’t surprise her. She leaned against the counter. “You think you can tell me which studio they were using?” If they’d gone to lunch, it would be empty.
“I c-can’t. I’m sorry.”
Wylder sighed and reached over the desk, plucking the tablet up. The woman protested but Wylder ignored her as she scrolled through the calendar.
Studio five.
Well, there was one studio that would now have an empty fridge. She handed the tablet back. “I’m Beckett Anderson’s assistant. I see you’re busy, so I’ll help you out with that fridge.”
She walked away before the woman could protest further.
The door to studio five was unlocked. She opened it slowly to make sure no one was in there. Once assured it was empty, she slipped in and closed the door. Her eyes zeroed in on the fridge and she kneeled in front of it, opening it to find it was half empty like Luke claimed. Bottles of water, iced tea, and Diet Coke lined the shelves.
Wylder made quick work of pulling them out and piling the loot on the couch.
She was almost done when something else caught her eyes. In the booth, there was a drum set nearly identical to the one in Becks’ studio.
Her fingers curled as if they could feel the wooden drum sticks.
A year was too long. She probably had an hour or so. Plenty of time to get it out of her system.
Stepping into the booth, she closed the door. Now or never.
It was the most beautiful set she’d ever considered playing on. She could get used to the rock star life if it meant having these beauties. As she sat on the stool, everything came back to her. The way it felt to be on stage, the tireless hours spent taking all her frustrations out on the drums.
They’d been such a huge part of her life until they weren’t.
She reached for the drum sticks and started tapping out a basic rhythm, one she could have done when she was eight.
The more comfortable she got, the faster the beat became.
She closed her eyes, feeling every vibration, every movement. A smile graced her lips, as she moved through the rhythm.
She didn’t know how long she played until the door to the booth closing again made her stop. Her eyes snapped open.
Him.
He didn’t take his eyes from her as he neared.
“Sebastian?” She hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him since their perfect kiss in the rain.
Confusion flashed across his face. “Are you here looking for me?” That voice slid over her like warm chocolate.
She shook her head and set the drum sticks aside. “I was in here trying to teach a douche a lesson and couldn’t help myself.”
“You’re good.”
She shrugged. She knew she was good. Drumming was in her blood. But it didn’t stop the hurt when it was over.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “This douche… what did he do to you?”
“He was rude to the lady out front.” That was enough reason for her.
Sebastian’s eyes widened. “You’re the one who yelled at him.” A grin slid across his face. “He told me some girl at the studio made him look like an idiot. He wants you fired.”
“Too bad I don’t work here. He can’t get me fired.”
“So, you did come here looking for me. But how did you get in?”
“Looking for you?” She scoffed. “As if. How was I to know you worked here? I happened to get in because my brother is recording in another studio.”
“And my brother is recording in this one. I only came back to grab my car keys.”
She stood. His brother? “You’re related to Luke Cook?”
“I am.” He paused. “Wait… I knew you looked familiar that day at the concert, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. You’re Wylder Anderson.”
Wylder sighed. Everyone knew who she was because Becks forced her to sing on stage with him last year, and the media was relentless.
“Okay.” She slid past him. “This has been fun and all, but I really should abscond with my loot.” She reac
hed the couch and started gathering the contents of the fridge in her arms.
Sebastian laughed. “You’re taking all our drinks?”
“If you wanted to keep them, you should tell your brother not to be a jerk.”
His phone chimed, and he grimaced when he checked it. “Luke said I should stay here to make sure the studio does as he asked.”
“Wouldn’t want to make little Luke angry.” Only minutes ago, she’d been a Luke Cook fangirl. But one action could change that. They say never meet your heroes. Now she knew why.
Sebastian put his phone away. “Do you want to get out of here?”
Wylder stared at him, remembering the feel of his lips on hers. They’d both been soaking wet, their hair and clothes clinging to them. Now that they stood on dry ground, she could see that his hair struggled to flatten, that his body filled out his clothes nicely, not too muscly or too thin.
And lord help her, she wanted to go with him. She imagined Becks’ reaction, but something told her she could trust this guy. Maybe it was their shared experience of being the siblings of fame. Maybe it was the genuine look in his eyes, the hopeful look.
“Yes.” She smiled. “Let’s go.” Pulling out her phone, she shot a text to Becks, knowing he wouldn’t get it for a while.
“Wylder Anderson.” He towered over her, peering down into her eyes. “I think you’re trouble.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
Chapter 5
Wylder couldn’t stop glancing toward Sebastian as they drove away from the studio. Becks was going to be so mad, but he had to learn at some point that he wasn’t her father. He’d survive.
“So.” She turned in her seat. “What’s it like to be Luke Cook’s brother?” She still hadn’t forgotten Luke’s rudeness, a trait she found none of in Sebastian.
He kept his eyes on the road. “What’s it like to be Beckett Anderson’s sister?”
“Touché.” A smile tilted her lips. She was used to being asked that question, and it never got more obnoxious. Sure, her brother was famous. Even in their small town high school everyone had known his name. And she’d always just been his sister, the tagalong. “Okay, no talk about our famous siblings. Sebastian, today we’re just us, two people who needed a break and enjoy kissing in the rain.”
She’d hoped to startle him by bringing up their kiss—their blazing kiss—but his lips curved into a smile.
“Well, if we’re going to be those people, you can call me Bash.”
“As in I’m going to bash your face in?” Her brow arched. “Okay then, you can call me Der.”
A laugh burst out of him. “For real?”
“Yes.” She suppressed a laugh.
“Why do I feel like you’re messing with me?”
“Because I am.” She laughed. “I wanted a cool nickname like you.”
“And all you came up with was Der?”
She shrugged. “My name doesn’t exactly lend itself to nicknames. Becks calls me Wylds, but I don’t want you calling me that.”
As if on cue, her phone buzzed. She pulled it free to see Avery’s name flashing across the screen. “Sorry, I should take this.” With a sigh, she answered. “I’m alive, don’t worry.”
Avery grunted. “Where are you? Becks is worried.”
“He notices I’m not there?” She rolled her eyes, thankful Avery couldn’t see her. “Tell him to check his phone. I sent a text.”
She heard a rustling before Avery came back. “Seriously, Wylder? You should be glad I saw this before him.”
A grin slid across her face. “Tell him I’ll see him at his house later.” She hung up without a goodbye and leaned back in her seat, chuckling.
“What’s so funny?” Sebastian glanced at her for a moment before turning his attention back to the road.
“My brother is the most ridiculous person I know. I’m tired of his overprotectiveness. When we left, I texted him that I was going off to marry some strange man, but that I’d see him later.”
Sebastian was quiet for a long moment before he laughed. “I’ve got it, your nickname. Wyld Child.”
She hid her smile by turning to the window. Wyld Child. No one had ever given her a true nickname except for Wylds. And she liked it.
They pulled into a half empty parking lot next to a restaurant called Hot and Ready. Wylder’s brow furrowed. “Bash, if you took me to a strip club, I’m afraid I can’t marry you after all.”
He gave her an amused look. “Hot as in hot sauce. Come on. This place is great.” He exited the car, and she followed suit.
The smell of barbecue hit her the moment they walked through the swinging wooden doors. “Now this is what I imagined Tennessee to be like.” Stuffed animals adorned the walls. Something crunched under her feet and she looked down to see the ground littered with peanut shells.
“Sebastian.” The hostess smiled before giving him a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”
Sebastian shrugged. “I wanted to show my friend here some real barbecue.”
The hostess tucked blond hair behind her ears and gave Wylder an appraising look. Wylder knew how she appeared to people with her dreadlocks and simple clothes. She’d never be glamorous. “You two can follow me.”
As she led them to a table in the back, Wylder leaned in to Sebastian. “I thought everyone called you Bash.”
He shook his head. “Only my brothers… and now you.”
Something about those words warmed Wylder, like she was part of some secret.
The hostess handed them menus when they sat, and Wylder took a moment to look it over. She could feel Sebastian’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look up.
A waitress appeared. “Afternoon Sebastian.” Another blond, another smile. This time, she directed her smile at Wylder as well. “Can I get y’all some drinks?”
“I’ll take whatever craft you have on tap. Wylder? You want a beer?”
It was that moment she realized Sebastian thought her much older than her nineteen years. If he learned she was still in high school…
She shook her head. “If I have a beer at lunch, all I’ll want to do for the rest of the day is nap. Just an iced tea please.”
“Sweet?” The waitress asked.
“Nope. Unsweet is good.”
She smiled once more. “Okay, I’ll be back to take your food order in a bit.” She bounced away, leaving Wylder and Sebastian to stare at each other.
Neither said anything until a laugh bubbled out of Wylder. “You’re kind of intense. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Me?” He shook his head. “You’re terrifying. For the last month, you’ve been this mythical creature in my head, the boldest girl I’ve ever met.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Very good.” He didn’t take his eyes from her. “Tell me, Wylder Anderson, what possesses a girl to kiss a stranger in the rain?”
The truth was, she didn’t know. Something had come over her, some powerful desire. It was her first kiss, but she couldn’t tell Sebastian that. She shrugged. “I just felt like it.”
“How old are you?”
She’d expected the question, eventually. “Nineteen.” It wasn’t really a lie. She’d turn nineteen in a few months.
He pursed his lips, and she could tell she surprised him. A good surprise?
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Twenty-three.” So, not much age difference. That was good. But the moment he learned she was in high school, a barrier would come between them. “So, you really didn’t want the beer because you’re underage?”
“No, that’s not it.” She twisted her fingers together on top of the table. “My mom was an alcoholic and a drug addict.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I’m sorry. You say was… is she in rehab?”
The entire world knew about her mom thanks to Beckett, but apparently not Sebastian. The way he looked at her, so earnestly, it made her want to tell him all her secrets.
Wyl
der couldn’t remember the last time someone truly listened to her, the last time she didn’t have to put on the act that was trouble-making-Wylder. She looked down at her hands. “Um, no. She’s not in rehab. Mom died almost a year ago. Cancer. After all the hard work she put in to getting clean.” Wylder shook her head, playing with the paper napkin dispenser.
Sebastian reached across the table to take his hand in hers. “I’m sorry.” The thing was, she believed him, believed he regretted her loss even though he barely knew her.
“Okay, subject change.” She sucked in a breath. “You’re twenty-three… so I assume you either have a job or you’re a lazy fool living off your brother?”
Her words shocked him, she could tell by the widening of his eyes. He laughed. “I recently graduated college.”
“An educated man… who would have thought?”
He laughed again. “I have a new job beginning in September after Luke’s next tour kicks off.”
“What’s your degree in?”
“English.”
She tapped a finger against her chin. “Hmm interesting. What do you want to do with it?”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “I eventually want to be a writer. But my new job is teaching.”
Before she could respond, the waitress set their drinks on the table. “Are you ready to order?”
“Not yet.” Sebastian kept his eyes on Wylder.
“Okay. Well, karaoke is beginning, so enjoy the show.”
When she was gone, Sebastian leaned forward. “They do karaoke here every weekday during lunch.”
Wylder reached for the bucket of peanuts on the end of the table. She threw one at Sebastian. “Does Bash Cook sing?”
“Bash Cook does not.”
Wylder grinned and slid from the booth. “He does now.”
“What?” He didn’t stand but Wylder kept pulling his arm. “Wylder no. Not all of us were born for the music like you.”
She stopped. “I think you’re mistaking me with my brother.”
He met her gaze. “I heard you playing the drums.”
“Doesn’t mean I can sing.” Though, she could. But the last time she’d stepped onto a stage in front of people was at last year’s music festival when Becks forced her to sing with him.
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