Page 50 of How to Love a Rockstar

“Have a good evening,” I holler instead of giving Stan a piece of my mind.

“I didn’t—”

Cash cuts him off. “Let it go. It’s after five and we’ve been at it all day.”

I hurry out of the room while Cash blocks Stan.

Once I’m back in my apartment, I take a quick shower and change. I grab the plant I bought as a gift since cut flowers are banned in Winter Falls and cross the hallway to Ginny’s.

“Hey,” she greets when she answers the door.

She’s wearing another one of those spring dresses I love since they hug all her curves. And her hair is down showcasing how smooth and shiny it is. I want to touch those silk strands. Thread my hands through them as I explore her mouth.

My cock is immediately on board. He’s had enough of my hand. He’s ready for the real deal. Not the time.

I clear my throat and shove the plant at her. “This is for you.”

Way to be smooth, Dylan. You’re a freaking rockstar. There’s nothing to be nervous about. Except this is Ginny. The woman I’m obsessed with. The woman I think could possibly be the one. The woman who doesn’t give a damn about my fame.

“Thank you.”

“Are you ready to go? Or do we need to let Harry out first?”

She pushes her glasses back up her nose. The nervous gesture makes me want to draw her into my arms and reassure her. “I’m ready. I already let Harry out for his hour of zooms.”

“Hour of zooms?” I chuckle.

“Yeah, you know. Zooming here and there and everywhere.”

She’s adorable. And sweet and kind. And I can’t wait to dirty her up. Those thoughts are not helping my cock to calm down.

I offer her my arm. “Your chariot awaits.”

She sets the plant on the side table and grabs her purse before threading her arm through mine.

When we get outside, I point to the car. “Your chariot.”

She gasps. “Holy cow. How much is this car worth? Maybe we should borrow one of the town’s vehicles. This one is way too expensive.”

She drags her feet but I pull her along. Note to self: Ginny is not impressed with wealth.

“This is Cash’s car. I borrowed it for today.”

“We don’t need to drive anywhere. We can walk to the brewery or the diner or…”

I place a finger on her lips. “I promised you a date to remember.”

She nods to the car. “I’m going to remember this.”

“It’s just a car.”

“A car only the one percent can afford,” she mumbles.

Good thing I didn’t go with my first idea for this date – a dinner at this fancy Michelin-starred restaurant about an hour’s drive away – she would not have been impressed.

I open the door and help her into the car. “Buckle up.”

“I always do,” she murmurs before I shut the door.

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