Page 115 of How to Love a Rockstar

Isla rushes into the room. “Mom. Stop stalling.”

Since when is trying to finish twenty projects before going to a party stalling? I don’t bother explaining to my daughter, though. She’s eleven. She doesn’t need to know how hard I work to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. She needs to enjoy life.

I guess we’re going to a party.

I shut my laptop and stand. “Are you ready?”

“I was ready an hour ago when you said to be ready in five minutes.”

I tweak her nose. “I think someone’s exaggerating. Better be careful before your nose grows.”

She giggles. “Mom. Pinocchio isn’t real.”

I wrap an arm around her and lead her out of my office to the front door. She skips as we make our way down the sidewalk.

“Will Fender be at the party?”

At the mention of his name, I can’t help myself from glancing at the house next door to where the rockstar lives. Fender Hays, bass player forCash & the Sinners, is sexier in person than he is on the cover of a magazine and he’s pretty darn sexy on the cover of a magazine.

Only in person can you experience how tall and broad-shouldered with muscles everywhere he is. Not that I’ve touched any of his muscles. I wouldn’t. I’ve sworn off men after Isla’s dad abandoned us. Plus, Fender’s a rockstar. He wouldn’t be interested in a single mom.

Unfortunately, Isla is in love with him. She sits and stares out the window waiting for him to make an appearance. I didn’t realize how much she missed a father figure until Fender showed up. But Fender is no father figure. He’s a rockstar who will leave Winter Falls soon enough.

“Mom.” Isla tugs on my hand. “Will Fender be at the party?”

I force my thoughts away from Fender’s imminent departure from town and smile down at my daughter. Considering this party is to celebrate Fender’s bandmate, Dylan, buying my friend, Virginia, a house, I assume Fender will be there. My tummy warms at the idea of seeing him again. Calm down, I tell it. We’ve sworn off men, remember?

“Fender will probably be there,” I tell my daughter.

“Yes!”

Her pace increases until we’re practically sprinting down the sidewalk toward the party.

“Slow down. Hold your horses.”

She giggles. “I don’t have any horses. I’ve never even ridden a pony.”

Silly me. I had to mention horses. Isla has been begging me to learn how to ride a horse since she was five years old and another kid in her kindergarten class bragged he owned a ranch.

I quickly calculate the cost of a pony ride. Things are financially much better since I started working as Brody Bragg’s assistant. We now live in a cute house and the town of Winter Falls is safe and child friendly. Maybe I can swing a pony ride.

I ruffle Isla’s hair. “Maybe we can do a pony ride for your twelfth birthday.”

Her eyes widen and sparkle with happiness. “We can?”

“I said maybe.”

“I’ll convince you.”

My chest fills with pride at how confident she sounds. All I’ve ever wanted is for my daughter to become a confident young woman without the typical hang-ups about looks or school or any of the other teenage angsts.

“Hey!” Indigo waves me over when we reach the party. Isla runs to her and jumps into her arms. “How’s my favorite eleven-year-old?”

“Eleven and a half,” my daughter immediately corrects.

Indigo nods. “My mistake. How is my favorite eleven-and-a-half-year-old?”

Isla giggles. “You’re silly.”

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