Reforming the Rock Star Read online

  Callie rounded the corner and returned with the arugula, but something was off. Her heels clicked faster against the linoleum and her eyes were wide. Like she’d almost been flattened by a stampede. “I think we should probably finish up, and I’ll send for the rest of the groceries tomorrow.”

  She tossed the bag into the buggy and spun it around to head toward the cash registers.

  “I don’t even have half my list.”

  “I just remembered, I need your help back at the house.” With every word, Callie grew shriller, and she was already halfway down the aisle by the end of her sentence.

  “Okay, fine, I really need potatoes, though, and I forgot—” She turned on her heel and came face-to-face with the source of Callie’s weirdness.

  Sometimes, whenever she was forced to come back to town, she would imagine what had become of the girls who’d made her life a living hell in high school. In her fantasies, they were bloated, jobless burnouts. Forced to wear the kinds of clothes she’d worn back then. Maybe with some warts on their faces for good measure.

  But karma, just like luck and fate, had apparently decided that Syd was dead to them.

  If anything, Emily and Beth Forsythe were more beautiful now than they had been in high school. Perfect figures, glowing skin, blond hair. Worse, they were dressed to the nines at the freaking grocery store.

  And the one ugly feature they had to show off? The familiar, viscous sneers aimed directly at Syd.

  “On second thought, I don’t think I really need those potatoes.” Syd tried to turn, but it was too late. The sharks had smelled blood in the water and they were circling. Based on the slightly confused expression Laz wore, he knew it, too.

  God, if it had to happen, why did it have to happen in front of him?

  “Oh my gosh! Sydney Metcalf, we were just talking about you. We thought you might be around for dear Callie’s wedding and we were trying to remember that funny nickname you used to have.” The smile that wreathed Emily’s face was chilling.

  So this was how it was going to go. Now that Callie was a celebrity, she got a pass. But Syd? To them she was still…

  “You know, I don’t remember,” Syd said with a shrug. “It was so long ago.” Worth a try. Anything not to have to say it in front of Laz.

  “Oh come on. It’s been driving us absolutely crazy,” Beth added.

  Syd risked a glance at Laz. His expression was unreadable now. Maybe if she said it quietly, he wouldn’t hear it. And maybe if she told them, it would be over.

  There was a small, rational part of her brain that told her she was an adult. She could walk away from this. But the rest of her was thirteen again. And helpless.

  She whispered the words. “Sydney Mothballs.”

  She wished the floor would open and swallow her whole.

  …

  The half-plastic women in front of him cackled. “Yep, that was it. Sydney Mothballs. “’Member, because your clothes all smelled like that nasty thrift shop? Geez, kids can be so mean.”

  What the fuck did they call her? He balled his hands into fists and released them a couple of times, trying to siphon out the rage building in every muscle. If Sydney was “Sydney Mothballs,” then who were these two, Tweedle Twit and Tweedle Twat?

  “Looks like things have been going pretty well for you now, though. No more clothing drive wardrobe.” Tweedle Twat looked from Syd to him, her eyes taking on that predatory glow he’d seen a hundred times before from sharks like her. “And who’s this?”

  Sydney’s cheeks flamed, and he caught the slightest hint of a tear glistening in her eyes. Enough of this bullshit. Nobody was going to put her down in front of him. Not ever. “Um, this is my friend—”

  “You don’t have to lie for their sake, love.” He squeezed her hip and planted a kiss on her cheek. “It’ll get out eventually.”

  He faced the two women, both of whom were in serious danger of catching flies.

  “Are you two friends of Sydney’s?”

  “From high school.” Tweedle Twat nodded.

  “Really?” He raised his brows and gave them both a quick once-over. “I wouldn’t have guessed it. You both look a lot older than she does.”

  They turned to each other and shared a frown before facing him again. “Well, anyways, we saw your picture in the paper together today, but we figured it was probably just one of those small-town-rumor kind of stories. We didn’t…I mean, Syd is—”

  “Syd is leaving,” Laz finished, knowing if they spat one more cruel word about her he was going to go HAM on one of them. He tightened his grip on Syd and treated the two vipers in front of him to a flat stare. “The two of you should get your heads out of your asses and grow up. Being an asshole in high school might have worked out all right for you, but y’all aren’t cute enough to get away with it anymore, and people are going to call you on that shit.”

  He led Syd off and Callie grasped her other arm, sending the two women staring after them with a jaunty wave and a sharklike smile. “Later, bitches.”

  Together, he and Callie led Syd through the checkout. While the cashier rang them up, Callie picked up a handful of candy bars and chattered nonstop about wedding planning in an obvious attempt to give Syd a chance to regain her composure. For the most part, it worked, and by the time they were paying for the food, she looked a little less wrecked.

  It was actually a relief to watch their dynamic. Friendship, more like sisterhood, in motion. Just Callie’s presence seemed to give Syd strength in the same way he’d seen Syd bolster Callie when she was worried about the wedding.

  Yet another facet of Sydney Metcalf.

  And the more he saw of her, the harder it was to decide which side he liked best.

  Still, he had one more thing to do.

  “You guys go ahead without me.” He waved them off. “Bathroom.”

  Callie nodded and she and Syd carried the bags out as he headed in the opposite direction. Once they were clear of eyesight, he turned and grabbed a Daily Gazette from the display at the front of the store.

  That woman had mentioned something about seeing their picture in the paper, and sure enough, there it was. In a town this small, it even had enough clout to garner a second-page spread. A picture of himself and Syd, his hand over hers, took up half the page and the headline read “Looking for Love in all the Wrong Places.”

  As rumors of a possible Rift breakup circulate, well-known rocker, Lazlo Stone, does nothing to alleviate fans’ worst fears. Some critics speculate that lead singer, Jake Mitchell’s scandalous engagement or the recent departure of Dash Mills have left the band stunted, but perhaps Stone is the real reason for the band being on the rocks?

  Late yesterday evening, Stone was spotted with a young woman in a local bar. By and large, the lady pictured to the right is not one of the bombshell babes usually spotted on Stone’s arm. Could it be a sign that he’s ready to step into a simpler, less flashy life and out of the spotlight—

  What a crock of shit.

  What kind of man with blood in his veins would look at Syd as average-looking?

  The more time he spent in this town, the more sure he was that Sydney was right about at least one thing. It was completely fucked-up.

  He tossed the rag of a paper back onto the counter and stalked toward the car. Hopefully Sydney wouldn’t see it and be subjected to further bullshit from these yokels. He stalked toward the car and shut the door behind him a little louder than he’d intended, but neither woman seemed to notice.

  They were busy laughing and the sight of Sydney’s wide, natural grin threw water onto the flames of his rage. And that laugh? It was too infectious to deny.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “Oh nothing. Syd and I were just talking about this thing we did when we were little. It’s stupid.” Callie started the car and began the drive.

  “Come on. Tell me,” he said.

  “Fine. But promise not to laugh. One day, when we were five or six, we went out
into the woods by the lake and picked a punch of wild berries and mushrooms. Then, we put them in a big bowl and filled it with water from the lake and went door to door trying to sell it to our neighbors.” Sydney grinned. “I guess I’ve always been a chef at heart.”

  “And Lori was always a saleswoman,” Callie added. “She told everyone that a portion of the proceeds would go to charity.”

  A chorus of fresh laughter rose and it wasn’t long before the incident with the newspaper was long behind him. Who cared what anyone said? The woman next to him was smart, funny, and beautiful. Every single second he spent with her, one fact became that much clearer.

  He was really starting to like this girl. Like was all right by him. It was the other L word that meant trouble, and as long as they kept a lid on that, everything would turn out just fine…

  Chapter Nine

  When they got back, Callie headed off to her work den, mumbling something about the perfect idea for a shoe, and Syd thought Laz would have followed suit—begging off with band practice or some other cockamamie excuse, but he didn’t. He followed her back to the kitchen without a single explanation, and she wasn’t exactly inclined to ask him to leave.

  After the way he’d stood up for her in the store? After she’d witnessed the look in his eyes when he kissed her again?

  She didn’t mind spending some extra time with Laz Stone, no matter what kind of lunacy had prompted him to look her way.

  But there was no time to fixate on that. Practically half the day was gone already, and she had a ton of work to do.

  Soon after entering the kitchen, she set to work prepping every vegetable and slicing every protein until her hands cramped. As she went, he watched her with rapt attention, studying her knife work as though he were judging a competition.

  And it certainly felt that way. With every step, she grew more aware of his appraisal, and though she tried to contain her reaction, she found herself bending over to grab things with more exaggeration than she normally would have. Adding the slightest shimmy to her walk.

  Finally, the first tester was ready, and she slid it in front of him—a tempura-fried mushroom stuffed with lobster.

  He popped it into his mouth and chewed, closing his eyes and savoring it in a way she’d seen only once before. In his bed last night. The recognition surged between her thighs, and she squeezed them together, trying to quell the response the memory had brought on. It gave a whole new meaning to food porn.

  “Amazing.” There was no question he was telling the truth. He looked satisfied and also hungry for more. Another expression that triggered memories of the night before.

  “Um, yeah, they’re good. They were always Callie’s favorite. Of course, back in the day, I used to make them with imitation crab meat. Delicious, right?” She let out a self-conscious laugh.

  “It sounds like…something.” He shook his head with a wince.

  Oh God, he thought she was disgusting. Perfect. She rushed to modify her story, tripping over the words as she went. “Well, we couldn’t really afford stuff like this, so I used to work in this little roadside produce market during the summers, and I got to bring home anything they couldn’t sell. It helped make ends meet. You get creative when you’re broke.” And the spiral of shame she knew so well began deep in her stomach.

  Not that Laz seemed to notice. He was still noshing on his food, licking his fingers, and wiping them off on a napkin.

  “Oh yeah? What else did you think up?” He smiled. “If it’s anything like this, I’m willing to give it a go.”

  And just like that, the shame vortex faded away. Weird.

  “Oh, well, Lori had one favorite, but it is truly disgusting.”

  “Now I have to try it.”

  “I’m amazed it didn’t kill her, really. I used to make her stewed-tomato macaroni and cheese with bacon bits and Dorito crust. Then I fried the whole thing like a giant fritter.”

  Laz blinked three times, then reached out and grabbed her hand, sending a thrill through her nerves. God, he should have to warn a girl before he did that. “You have to make that for me.”

  She wanted to pull her hand away. She knew she should. But she didn’t.

  Just like she wanted to say no. No, she wouldn’t make her trailer park food for the most impressive person she’d ever met.

  But like everything else, she couldn’t turn him down.

  “Let me see what I can do.”

  …

  He’d thought the mushroom cap was amazing, but it didn’t hold a candle to whatever she called her mac-and-cheese marvel. Good Christ, was it good. Salty, savory, and unexpected—just like the chef herself.

  “You need to bring these to the fair,” he said between fistfuls.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She went to pull the plate away from him, but he grabbed it back.

  “What’s ridiculous? It’s the best thing I’ve ever had.”

  “You said that after the tempura, too.”

  “And it was true when I said it. Just like this is true now.”

  She eyed him mournfully and moved back to her mound of tuna, coating it in seven different seasonings he couldn’t pronounce. “That’s really nice of you, but I couldn’t serve that. People would…” She mashed her palm down on the mixture and shook her head. “I just can’t.”

  “What would people do? Other than erect a statue of you holding a bucket of these?” He popped another morsel into his mouth and grinned at her, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t get her to show him that sexy smile again.

  “Look, that’s not—”

  “What would they do?” No way was he going to let her off that easy.

  “It’s stupid. They’re going to think that I, I don’t know, that I’m not better than I was when I started. Like even though I got out of here, I’m still just some podunk caterer who makes frozen meatballs and fried chicken. That’s not who I am.” The words were quiet, but they were fierce. Like silent summer lightning.

  “I know that. I wish those women in the grocery store did, too.” There. He’d brought it up. The whole time since it had happened, it seemed taboo to address it, but he had to let her know how wrong those people had been. He couldn’t let her walk around thinking she was still Sydney Moth Balls.

  After a few seconds passed without her response, though, he wondered if he’d made the wrong decision.

  “They don’t matter. I dealt with worse than that.” She spoke the words like a challenge.

  He had to know what she meant, if only to know if there was anything he could do to wipe that pain away. “Like what, exactly?”

  And so she told him. Explained all the awful names she’d been called and the unspeakable things people had spoken anyway. He’d expected it to be a teary story, but it wasn’t. Every detail was brisk and matter-of-fact.

  Like she’d played it out in her mind so many times it had already lost the emotional weight.

  And he had only one question left to ask. “Why the hell would you ever come back here?”

  “You mean to see Callie’s mom?” She pulled the fronds from some asparagus as she spoke. “She deserves it. Don’t get me wrong, she was an emotional mess, but she loved them and she tried.”

  She stared off at something he couldn’t see, then finally added, “It was a damn sight more than I had. My mom…well, let’s just say she was as good to me now dead as she was when she was alive. She was sort of a beauty-pageant type gone south. Lots of drugs, lots of men. And I think she felt like the kid she got out of the whole mess just added insult to injury.”

  She rinsed the arugula in the sink and offered him a wry smile. “Sorry. I think that might have taken a weird turn for a minute.”

  “No, it’s cool. I like learning more about you.” And he did.

  Before, he’d thought she was sexy. Now, he knew she was more than that. She was a fighter. He’d managed to keep things light when she’d talked about her childhood because it seemed like that was what she needed at the ti
me, but in truth, it wrecked him. The thought of a bespectacled little Sydney in a dirty trailer trying to make something for her friends out of rotting vegetables. Now, though, he couldn’t hold back just a little of what he was feeling.

  “Sydney?” She stopped cooking and looked up at him, her clear blue eyes glassed over with tears. God, was she beautiful. Her hair stuck out in ten different directions and a crescent-shaped smear of flour highlighted her cleavage, but it only made her that much more adorable.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Please believe me when I tell you that I will seriously injure anyone who says you’re anything other than amazing. And these”—he held up a fritter—“are a perfect example of what I mean. I would kill to cook like you. It’s such an awesome skill to have.”

  She stared at him for a long minute, casting him with a cool appraisal. Like she thought he was punking her.

  “You don’t think I’m serious.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I don’t think it matters.” She fashioned the tuna into a patty, careful not to look him in the eye.

  “Come on, then. Teach me.” He jumped off his chair and rounded the counter, striding toward her until they were hip to hip.

  “You don’t have to help. I just have to make the sample plates and write out instructions.” She swallowed hard and backed away, almost knocking the skillet from the stove top as she went. A beautiful flush colored her creamy white cleavage, and it was all he could do not to crowd her again.

  “So you can do it in half the time. Let’s get going.” Fuck it. He wanted to be close to her, so he was going to get close. He stepped toward her, cornering her against the counter. “Where do I start?”

  “Um. Yeah. Okay.” She wiped her hands on her skirt. “Let’s just…Let’s just wash our hands, and we can get started.”

  He strolled to the sink while she set the tuna patty into the skillet to sizzle.

  “Aren’t you going to join me?” He turned the water on.

  “We can’t wash at the same time. I’ll wait until you’re done.”

  “Is everything like pulling teeth with you, or is this just a special occasion?”