Page 40 of How to Love a Rockstar

“We’re here to help Ginny. Not create more work for her,” Dylan grumbles.

Ginny? Who’s Ginny? Does he mean me?

“What do you want us to do?” Cash asks and draws me out of my contemplation of why a nickname makes butterflies in my stomach explode.

I hold up the floor plan. “We need to move a bunch of furniture to set up for movie night.”

“Movie night?” Jett perks up. “There’s a movie night in Winter Falls?”

“Not if you don’t help me get the furniture rearranged.”

“Oh, the librarian’s feisty. Me likey.” Gibson waggles his eyebrows.

I try to scowl at him, but he’s beyond ridiculous and I end up giggling.

Dylan snags the floor plan from my hand. “Come on. Let’s get the furniture moved before you numbskulls find another distraction.”

“Who you calling a numbskull?” Jett asks.

Gibson elbows him. “Obviously you.”

Dylan sighs. “I apologize for them, Ginny. They followed me over here. I couldn’t get rid of them.”

That’s the second time he called me Ginny. “What’s with the nickname?”

His cheeks darken. Oh my gosh. Is he embarrassed? How adorable!

“I thought the name Ginny suited you. Do you hate it?”

Hate it? Why would I hate the man I’m obsessed with – despite my best intentions to ignore him – giving me a nickname?

“Considering the original Virginia was a Roman girl who was killed by her father in order to save her from seduction by a corrupt government official, I’m okay with it.”

His eyes widen. “Her father killed her? Ginny it is then.”

“What’s Ginny?” Gibson asks.

Dylan pushes him away. “None of your business.”

“You’re silly.” Gibson chuckles. “Everything’s my business.”

Cash clears his throat. “All right, numbskulls. Let’s get to work.”

Jett points to Gibson. “He means you.”

“Work,” Fender grunts.

Cash starts ordering everyone around and I let him. I might not be the scared mouse I once was in high school, but I’m still a shy introvert who prefers to hang back and observe while someone else is in charge.

Fender picks up one side of a table and I hurry to help him. He grunts at me.

“Sorry, big buy. I don’t speak grunt.”

“I got this.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’re all big and manly with a boatload of testosterone. We’re all duly impressed. Can we move the table now?”

He smiles and his face goes from King of the Grumps to bad boy hot guy. Whoa!

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