Page 16 of How to Be a Rockstar's Girlfriend

“You are?”

Gibson grins. “I’m the rhythm guitarist for Cash & the Sinners.”

“I’m guessing by the way you said the name you think I should know the band Cash & the Sinners.”

Bryan laughs. “But you don’t. This is precious. Absolutely precious. We need to re-do the odds calculations.”

“The odds calculations?” What in the world is going on here?

“Never you mind,” he sings.

I shove my questions and concerns about this small town away. Winter Falls can be as kooky as it wants. I’m not here to stay. I’m here to move my uncle into a nursing home and sell his house, and then I’ll skedaddle. Too bad my uncle cottoned onto my plan within minutes of my arrival.

“Can I get the biggest caramel mocha latte you have and whatever chocolate treat you recommend? The ‘rock star’ is buying.”

Bryan motions to the display case. “Pick out what you want. We don’t have much left since the tourists nearly picked us clean.”

I study the treats and my mouth waters. There are chocolate chip cookies, oatmeal raisin muffins, slices of carrot cake, and raspberry brownies. I want it all.

“She’ll have one of each,” Gibson orders from behind me.

I start to protest but why bother? It’s not as if I’ll get a chance to come into town often – dealing with Uncle Mercury is a full-time job – and these goodies appear scrumptious.

Gibson places a hand on my lower back and tingles erupt where he’s touching me. I don’t revel in those tingles. Nope. I’m on a break from men. Especially rockstars who think they’re god’s gift to women. Tingles be damned.

I settle in a chair at the table furthest away from Bryan. I’ve known the man for a grand total of five minutes but he has eavesdropper written all over him. As someone who’s been dubbed nosy for most of her life, I can spot a fellow busybody a mile away.

I wait until Bryan places our coffees and treats on the table before speaking.

“Well?”

Gibson merely stares at me.

“What’s your proposal?” I ask and pick up my coffee for a sip.

“We date.”

I sputter and my coffee flies out of my mouth straight at Gibson’s face. He grabs a napkin to wipe the liquid away.

“Your fault, dude. You should have waited until I wasn’t drinking to reveal your idiotic idea. In case this is unclear.” I lean forward to hiss at him. “I’m not dating you.”

Hurt flashes in his light brown eyes but I ignore it. No way is a rockstar truly upset I turned him down. His pride might be. But the man himself? Nope.

“I don’t want to date you either.”

“If you don’t want to date me, why did you say you want to date? Is the rock music rotting your brain? You should listen to country. It’s way better.”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to listen to someone cry about losing their man or their job and being broke.”

Guess he doesn’t want to hear about my life then since he literally described my recent past. Lost my man? Check. Lost my job? Check. Broke? Check. Add in the part about the man stealing the woman’s business and it’s a perfect match.

“Country music is about real people with real feelings not banging on the drums.”

“I don’t play the drums. I play the guitar.”

“Whatever.” I throw up my hands. “Us dating is obviously not going to work.”

“Which is why we won’t be dating.” He leans close to whisper, “We’ll pretend to date.”

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