Page 55 of How to Love a Rockstar

I raise my eyebrows. “A temper tantrum?”

Dylan shrugs. “Everyone has short fuses these days. We haven’t had a break in ages. We finished our last tour and arrived in Winter Falls the next day.”

“No vacation in Bali or somewhere else exotic?”

“I’m not much of a beach guy.”

“No?” I sigh. “I could spend a week on the beach soaking up the sun while reading books and drinking pina coladas.”

“Huh. When you put it that way, I understand the appeal.”

“You do? You’re going to spend the day reading and drinking pina coladas from a pineapple?”

“Nope.” He grins. “I’m going to spend the day ogling you while you lounge in a little red bikini.”

“Nope. No way. No how. I don’t wear bikinis.”

“Now, you’re being cruel.”

“I’m being cruel for not wearing a bikini?”

“You’re ruining my daydream of studying every single curve on your body during the day on the beach before spending the night discovering those curves with my hands and mouth.”

My body heats and warmth spreads to my core where wetness gathers. I rub my thighs together to relieve some of the tension. I’m totally down with him spending the night exploring my body. Assuming I can explore his, too.

I’d start with those ab muscles I’ve been fantasizing about since I caught him in nothing but a towel. Or maybe I’ll explore his tattoos with my tongue. Or I could go old school and start with a kiss.

There’s a bang on the door. When I glance over, Gibson and Jett give us two thumbs-up each. Dylan flips them off and they laugh.

“I don’t know. Does this fantasy include us getting away from your bandmates?” I ask once the two clowns are gone.

“Don’t worry. Jett and Gibson snap their fingers and women come running. We’d be rid of them soon enough.”

I frown. For a minute there I forgot all about how Dylan’s in a band. And not any old band. A band that tours the world playing their number one hits to women who scream their never-ending devotion to them while throwing their panties at the stage.

“I was joking. I would never invite Jett and Gibson on a vacation with us.”

“I know. I know. Ignore me.”

“Nope. I know you hate confrontation.”

I scowl at him. How does he know I don’t enjoy confrontation? Maybe he really can read minds.

“Are you certain you’re not a vampire?”

“I can’t read your mind, Ginny. But I do pay attention and you avoid confrontation even when it’s blatantly apparent you have an issue.”

“Blatantly apparent?”

“Being in a rock band doesn’t make me dumb. I can say big words.”

“I know.” I fiddle with my mug for a while before I admit what’s bothering me. “I worry about the whole rock band thing.”

“Worry? Worry about what? I promise the one bar fight Cash and I were in was the only fight. And I didn’t break the TV. It fell off the stand when Jett slammed my door. And—”

I raise a hand to stop him. Naming all of his adventures is not helping the situation.

“Never mind. It’s silly.”

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