Page 27 of How to Love a Rockstar

“She’s our neighbor.”

“Too close for comfort.” Gibson shivers and heads off in the direction opposite of where Leia and Brody are fighting.

“Poor Leia,” a woman says as she takes Gibson’s place next to me. “Brody is a trial to work with.”

I smile at her. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

She jostles the little girl in her arms. “I’m Soleil.”

“And you work with Brody?”

She groans. “Oh, dear lord, no. I live with him.” She smiles at her baby. “And this is his daughter.”

Before I have a chance to ask her what she means, she forces her way in between Leia and Brody. They speak together in low tones before Leia stomps off.

Indigo claps her hands. “Show’s over, folks!”

I eye the door. I’ve had enough drama and definitely enough peopling for one day, but Indigo grasps my wrist to stop me.

“You just got here,” she pouts. She sticks out her bottom lip and everything.

“Thirty-year-olds aren’t supposed to pout.”

“I won’t if you stay.” I hesitate. “At least for one drink.”

“What kind of drinks do you have?”

“I happen to have connections with theNaked Falls Breweryand I may have a batch of their latest IPA.” She grins because she knows she has me now. I’m addicted to IPAs but their higher cost means I don’t drink them as often as I’d like.

“You’re manipulative.”

“And you’re a sore loser.”

When it comes to not getting what I want, I don’t enjoy losing. Huh. I guess I am a sore loser.

We grab two bottles from the refrigerator before wandering outside where most of the guests are gathered. Cash is grilling, and his bandmates are gathered around him.

I order my eyes to look away, but they don’t listen. Not when there’s a perfect specimen of man in my view. Since it’s a warm day, Dylan has ditched his jeans for a pair of shorts. His legs should be pasty white considering it’s spring. But no, he already sports a tan.

And those thighs? They’re annoyingly perfect. Not too muscular so he resembles a bodybuilder. And not too skinny either. Exactly the right size to hold onto while I kneel in front of him.

I wave a hand in front of my face as it heats while images of all the things I could do to Dylan flit through my mind.

Indigo nudges me. “You should tell him what happened.”

“Tell who what?”

She snorts. “You’re funny.”

“I’m ready for the meat,” Cash hollers at her.

“Hold my beer.” She hands me her bottle before going inside.

“How are you, Virginia?”

I groan. I’m an idiot. I should have helped Indigo instead of standing here all alone. Making myself the perfect target for Dylan and his lame come-ons.

“I’m on my way home.”

---