Page 92 of How to Love a Rockstar

“Apparently everyone in Winter Falls enjoys skinny dipping.”

They do? I really need to give up my ban on social media and join the Facebook group. I’m missing out on way too much. Although, I don’t need to see any pictures of people swimming naked.

“And it’s Dylan and Jett. There’s no telling what they’ll do.”

“Hey, now.” Jett holds up his hands. “I’m on my best behavior from now on.” Everyone stares at him and he shrugs. “At least when Virginia’s around.”

Dylan grunts. “You damn well better be or I’m kicking your ass.”

“You promised me you’d kick his ass now.”

He cracks his knuckles. “Let’s do this.”

Jett dances away. “Holy cow! Dylan – the peacemaker – is going to kick someone’s ass. I would have never bet on this.”

“And I wouldn’t have bet one of my best friends would scare the crap out of the woman I love.”

“Hold on. Woman you love?” Indigo squeals. She rushes to me and grasps my hands while jumping up and down. “We’re going to be sisters.”

“I don’t think you understand how sisters work.”

“The band is a family. We’re with band members. Ergo, we’re sisters.”

I don’t get a chance to correct her understanding of genetics before she wraps her arms around me.

“I always wanted a sister,” she whispers as she rocks me from side to side.

“Me too.” Sisters wouldn’t have tormented me the way my brothers did.

Dylan pulls me away from her. “And now you have five.”

Gibson groans. “Great. Now two of the band members are in love. This shit better not be contagious.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” Dylan says as he smiles down at me.

“I think you’re confused. You’re the one who’s going to be missing out on free p—”

Dylan growls. “Finish that sentence and we have problems.”

“It’s going to be fun to watch him fall,” Cash says.

“I bet he’ll screw it up and come crying to us,” Indigo adds.

Dylan nods. “Of course, he’ll screw it up.”

I elbow him. “Be nice.”

“The only person I’m required to be nice to is you.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“I enjoy it when you’re nice to me.”

“Let’s kick these yahoos out.”

Before he can move, the doorbell rings and Fender rushes to answer it. He returns with several plates of food.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I ordered food,” he answers.

---