Reforming the Rock Star Read online

  She tried to jump up and cover herself, but only served to knock her forehead on the bedframe before finally scrambling to her feet.

  Good going. Much better to have him find me naked and crawling around the carpet than still under the covers, because that made things way less awkward.

  She reached for the nearest pillow and covered herself, all too aware that her bare ass was still hanging out for all the world to see.

  “I, uh, was just going. All work and no play makes—wait, that’s not how that goes. I mean, being with you wasn’t work. It was play. Not that I was playing you. I wasn’t. What I meant was—”

  He held up a massive hand to silence her. And for good reason. If she’d kept talking, there was no telling what she might say.

  “It’s not even seven yet. Why don’t you come back to bed?” His voice held a promise. One that enticed her more than she would have liked to admit, but the other part of her brain was still sort of wondering if this was all part of some elaborate prank on a reality show titled Frumpy and Famous. The world’s saddest hidden camera show.

  No, it was time to tap out before she got too caught up.

  “I can’t. I was trying to say—”

  “Yes?” He sat up in bed, and the sheets fell away to display his washboard abs.

  Holy. Freaking. Hell.

  If that was his standard method of seduction, it probably had a pretty healthy return rate. And it wouldn’t be so bad to crawl beneath the sheets with him again. Or to taste the definition in those chiseled muscles…

  “I have to work.” The words came out breathier than she would have liked, but she ignored it. Instead, she searched for her little mountain of clothes and darted for the bathroom. There was no way she was spending one more second alone with him. And especially no way that alone time was going to be naked.

  “You can bullshit whoever you want, but you and I both know the rest of the guests won’t be here for days. But if you can’t handle this amount of man again, I totally understand.” He was smiling when he said it, but there was no mistaking the challenge in his eyes.

  She bit her tongue until she finished dressing and then stalked back out. The smart thing to do would be to let him think she was lying. Hell, he could think whatever he wanted. Too bad that part of her brain was apparently on vacation. “Listen, bub.”

  “Bub?” He interrupted, eyebrows raised, but she pressed on.

  “For your information, I have to test my menu for the fair, and since Callie’s already in a panic with designing shoes and planning the wedding, and my sous chef is at school today, I’m pretty much on my own.”

  “You know, you look cute when you’re mad. You get this little wrinkle above your forehead. Very sexy.”

  “I—” Her brain stalled. She’d kissed him—hell, she’d slept with him—but there was something about being called sexy by Laz Stone that was, frankly, entirely unbelievable. Even more reason to check for the hidden cameras. She straightened her skirt and continued, “Thank you. But I have to go.”

  “Let me come.” He climbed from the bed, not bothering to cover his still-naked form. And with a body like that, who would want him to?

  Her mouth watered, and she swallowed hard before saying, “Sorry?”

  “Let me go with you to work. Don’t you need someone to taste the food and make sure it’s fit for consumption?”

  It wasn’t a terrible idea. With an event as important as this, it wouldn’t hurt to have another set of taste buds handy. Still, the idea of being alone with him and his wall of intimidating muscle was too overwhelming to contemplate. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know. I want to. The past couple days have been awesome for me. Road food is worse than hospital food. It’s mostly vending machines and PB&J. Any chance I get to have a good meal makes me a happy camper.”

  “Well—” She started, still not quite able to get her head around the fact that he hadn’t been relieved that she was going on her own and he didn’t have to send her packing. He wanted to spend more time with her.

  “Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

  The worst thing? She could be so distracted by staring at him that she could set her hair on fire. She could topple into a pile of dishes and impale herself on a meat cleaver. She could strip off all her clothes and beg him to take her on the granite countertops.

  A lot of bad things could happen.

  But for some reason none of them stopped her from saying yes.

  He pulled on a pair of jeans and a thin, black T-shirt that highlighted his features in all the right ways, and joined her at the door. Already, she was regretting her decision. Seriously, how was she supposed to cook with him watching her?

  They made their way down the hall to the main stairs in companionable silence, Laz combing his fingers through his black hair and her focusing hard on not falling in the high heels that had quickly become more of a curse than a comfort. “I’ve got to stop off at my room and change.” While also making sure no one saw her in yesterday’s clothes. “Meet you in the kitchen?”

  He nodded and jogged lightly down the stairs, and she made her way to her room. She cleaned up fast and changed into her work clothes, wishing her pants were a little less baggy and that she had a new, cute apron. She did take a quick second to slick on some lip gloss before venturing down to meet up with Laz.

  It was still early, and the house was silent. That was good. She wasn’t ready to face either of the Hanover sisters yet.

  When she walked into the kitchen, her breath caught. She’d prepped two meals at the main house so far, but the shock of the room’s beauty to a food nerd like her never wore away.

  It was the most impressively appointed kitchen she’d ever seen—at least three times the size of her mother’s old double-wide, with marbled floors and stainless steel as far as the eye could see.

  But with Laz beside her, hip cocked against the granite island, she wasn’t sure if her heart skipped a beat because of the gigantic double fridge or because she could feel the heat of his skin brushing against her arm.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and take a seat?” She cleared her throat and he plopped down by the mile-long breakfast counter, swirling his stool back and forth like a kid at a fifties diner.

  “What’s on the menu for this shindig so far? I wouldn’t mind a good burger or some fried shrimp.”

  “Actually, I’m making ahi tuna steaks, gorgonzola-stuffed mushrooms with—”

  He stopped spinning and held up a hand. “Hang on. I thought you said it was for the fair?”

  “Well, yes, but I—”

  “Is that what you like to eat at a country fair?”

  No. It actually wasn’t. But she wasn’t from his world of bacon-coated scallops and shrimp-puff cocktail parties, and now that Callie had ascended to a level of people who expected fine dining, she’d be damned if her company was branded as “that Podunk cooking company” by serving barbecue every meal. Callie was better than that now. And so was she.

  “Yes,” she lied.

  “Really?” A corner of his mouth quirked to the side as he raised an eyebrow. “You go home after a long day at work and you say to yourself, ‘Gee, I’ve got to get me a nice, cold ceviche to help me unwind.’”

  “Yes.” She answered too quickly, and his face did nothing to hide the fact that he’d noticed.

  “Interesting.”

  “Well, you’re rich. Don’t you, I don’t know, order a la carte crème brûlée?”

  “I’ve got money, I’m not dead. Ninety percent of the time I order cheeseburgers and fries like any sane person.”

  Had her past and being back in Fairbanks made her overthink this? Maybe Laz was right. Maybe people did want to experience a country fair with simple but delicious country food. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

  She paced to the fridge and flung open the doors, searching for anything from her original possible menu ideas even remotely salvageable.

  �
�Hey, don’t worry. We have time. And I’m sure your food is going to be great. I liked it at the bachelor party, even if it was fancy.” He spread his hand wide, as if to show his sincerity, but it only made her more convinced that she’d made a misstep.

  “I screwed this all up—” She covered her face in her hands and tried to think.

  “First things first. What do you have in the fridge?” he asked, rising to his feet. “There’s got to be something you can do. What if you use the stuff you got, but scale it back? Make it food a guy would want to eat.”

  She eyed the shelves, processing each item, and Laz’s words snowballed into a full-blown idea. Upscale, bar-type food across the board. Snacks for the upper class.

  “So, like, what if we did sliders with an arugula chipotle mayo in brioche? And buffalo-chicken skewers with a homemade blue-cheese dressing?” With every word, her heart pounded faster. This could definitely work—and it was just out of the box enough to make the event, and A Lil’ Taste of Heaven, memorable.

  All thanks to him.

  “There you go.” He grinned and backed up to his seat again, arms folded over his chest. “I can’t wait to taste.”

  Only they needed a ton of other ingredients. She thought back to her last night in Fairbanks and decided to roll the dice. Who knew? Maybe things really had changed for the better. Nobody had said boo to Laz, and they’d said even less to her. With any luck, today would be the same. She worked up some courage and then nodded.

  “Well then, we’ve got to go shopping.”

  She pulled off her apron and moved toward the foyer with Laz in tow. “You don’t have to come. If you don’t want to, I mean.”

  She faced him, wondering whether her apprehension was at the thought of his staying, or going with her.

  “Nah, I’ll come along. Rocky canceled practice this afternoon, so I’m free.” He paused and the tightness of his jaw made her think back on what the DJ on the radio had said the night before. Maybe things weren’t going so great behind the scenes for The Rift. Before she had too much time to think on it, though, he continued. “It’ll be fun to stretch my legs and—” The rest of his sentence was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone, and he reached toward his pocket. “Just one minute.”

  He held up a finger and walked back toward the kitchen. Maybe it was lips-n-boobs Elyse. She tamped down the irrational surge of jealousy and tried to look busy, tugging at a hangnail on her thumb, but all the while she was listening closely for snatches of his conversation. By and large, from what she could tell, it was uninteresting. All small talk and stuff about the band. It wasn’t until the end of the chat that things got interested.

  “What? Dammit, Elyse, I told you not to do that.”

  He sounded alarmed and slightly perturbed, and Syd knew the feeling.

  So it was Elyse who’d flashed across the screen of his phone the other night. Who was she to him? She tipped her head closer, leaning toward the open doorway, calling on her spidey senses to hear the now-hushed tones.

  “You look like you’re about to fall over.” The soft, female voice made her jump a foot in the air, and her heart stopped beating. Worse, she hadn’t caught the rest of what Laz had been saying.

  She whipped around to face her friend, cheeks flaming. How had she missed Callie sneaking up on her? It was usually impossible to miss the sound of her Calliope heels clicking daintily across the marble floors. She eyed her friend’s now-sneakered feet and muttered a curse under her breath.

  “So…whatcha doing there, champ? You’re leaning so far over that I thought you were mid-prat fall.” Callie wore a knowing half smile. Like the fact that Syd had gotten down and dirty with the sexiest guitar player on earth was written all across her face. And for all she knew, it was.

  “No, I was just—” She stopped speaking as Callie looked past her.

  “Sorry about that.” Even without hearing his approach, she could feel Laz’s hulking frame towering over her. Like an ax murderer. Hell, who was she kidding? More like a superhero.

  And with the way her heart was beating, he may as well have been. Heat rushed to her cheeks and the embarrassment of being caught red-handed was compounded tenfold by the knowing grin splitting Callie’s face.

  She knew.

  So busted.

  “We were just heading into town for ingredients.” Syd tried desperately to distract Callie from her newfound revelation, but it backfired in a major way.

  “I should come along. I have some things to pick up. Maybe a newspaper. To find out the latest news.” Callie raised her eyebrows and hitched her purse higher on her shoulder, clearly enjoying herself to no end. With any luck, Laz didn’t notice the interrogating undertone, but she didn’t bet on it.

  So far, luck had not been on her side today.

  “We can even take my car.” Callie started for the door without another word. With a shrug, Laz followed behind, and Syd pulled up the rear.

  Well, shit. Nothing like taking a field trip to her own personal hell while Callie tried to pry information from her about Laz.

  “You guys will have to take the back,” Callie said. “There’s a ton of wedding stuff in the front passenger’s seat, and I just don’t have the heart to look at it right now. I hope that’s okay.” Her friend disappeared into the car.

  Syd wasn’t sure if it was okay or not. It would forestall the upcoming grilling at least. But so far, the day was turning out to be a cocktail of day terrors all in one neat little package. Not only was she in Fairbanks. Not only did she have to go back into town. Not only did she have to tell her friend all about her sordid sex life. Now she had to try to act chill sitting beside the world’s hottest guy. Who she’d slept with.

  And who might or might not have a girlfriend.

  Best to tackle one issue at a time.

  “So, what was the phone call all about?” She kept her tone casual as she steeled herself for his response, careful to watch for signs of a lie.

  “My publicist wanted to know if I could pick her up from the airport in a couple of days. She can be a little—I’m not actually sure what the best word is for it. Needy, maybe?” Not a single flicker of untruth and relief coursed through her. Okay, so she could buy that. It wasn’t his fault his publicist was a hottie.

  One problem down. Nine trillion to go.

  Callie passed the gilded cow, and Syd swallowed hard. If she focused on Laz for the whole ride, maybe she wouldn’t see anyone. Or anything.

  “So, Elyse is coming then?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Lots of photos and stuff and with all the rumors about the band, she thinks it’s a good idea. Plus it’s always a good thing to have her around in case of paparazzi.” As if in response to what he’d said, his phone trilled again, but he silenced it as soon as he checked the screen. “Like I said, she’s a little needy.”

  “How is the wedding prep going, Callie?” Syd called to her friend.

  “What? Oh, it’s…fine.” Callie fiddled with the dials on the radio before shutting it off altogether. “Lots to do.” The panicked edge to her voice that had been present for the past few days was back, but she tossed a smile over her shoulder toward them. “But that stuff is boring. What have you guys been up to?”

  Laz smoothly took control of the convo and rambled on about plans with the band. Callie nodded as he went, but Syd had trouble focusing on the words. With every passing street sign, her dread weighed on her that much more. By the time they got to the grocery store, it would be a miracle if she was able to move at all.

  As they passed the old, rusty sign for the trailer park she’d grown up in, the conversation lulled. This time when Callie glanced back at her, there was no playfulness. Only concern.

  She’d avoided the place like a leper colony when she’d come to visit Callie’s mom, Minerva. Worse was that somewhere inside was a trailer with corroded pipes and cigarette burns she used to call home. But that was over now. Still, seeing it again? It was just a reminder that she’d always be that
girl with thirdhand clothes and not enough food to the people in this town. The butt of jokes to some, the object of pity to others.

  “You guys okay? It got weird in here,” Laz said.

  “We’re fine,” Syd said, “Here’s the store.”

  They climbed from the car and headed into the postage-stamp-sized dump.

  Maybe seeing her rickety old stomping grounds was a sign of things to come, like a sort of first horseman of the apocalypse, because as soon as she walked into the store she regretted ever coming in the first place.

  It was like a bizarro version of the previous night. Everything that had gone right was horribly, terribly wrong, starting with the fact that every eye in the building was focused on Laz. Like animals to a watering hole, people flocked to him. Women gave him their numbers. Some even pinched his butt. And by extension, every woman who passed surveyed Sydney, too. Worse, every single woman wore the same expression when they looked her over, an unspoken question stamped across their face.

  What is he doing with her?

  Was this what it was like to be with someone like Laz? Was every day a constant torment? Every date just another opportunity for strangers to let you know that you’re not good enough? She tried to push the thoughts away, but the onslaught of women made it nearly impossible to ignore.

  When Callie ran to grab arugula from the produce case, Syd finally broke down and asked, “Is this what your life is like? Women just throw themselves at you?”

  “Sometimes. Other times they sort of leap toward me. Depends on the setting.” He plucked a bag of chips from a nearby display and popped them open.

  “Very funny.”

  “Most of the time, yes.” He grinned, but then his eyes widened and he started, staring around behind him.

  A little old lady had goosed him and continued to stare as if she hadn’t been caught. Still, before he could say anything she said, “At my age, you get to do what you want. Saint Peter already had plenty of reasons to give me the finger.” And without another word, she rolled off toward the checkout.

  “Well that was—”

  “Pretty normal.” He crunched on another chip. “I lead a glamorous life that way.”