Page 3 of Hot Ride

As themeeting finally ends and we're ushered out, shell-shocked and silent, I retreat to the bathroom. Splashing cold water on my face, I stare at myreflection.

“Pull yourself together,”I mutter to myself, gripping the edges of the sink.“You've got this. One problem at a time.”

Back at my desk, the HR email glares at me from my inbox like a ticking time bomb. I click it open, bracing myself. Yep, there it is—my severance package andinformationaboutoutplacementservices.

All wrapped up in corporate jargon wishing me the best of luck with my future endeavors. I skim through it, and my lips twist into a grimace.

Thenumber at the bottom won't keep me afloat for long.

My mind races, tallying up the bills—rent due next week, car repairs that can't wait, and-oh joy-my health insurance that will vanish along with my job.

Not to mention the wedding expenses I had budgeted for with a steady paycheck in mind. Thisseverance is a band-aid on a bullet wound, and I'm bleeding out fast.

With a heavy sigh, I switch to my airline app. At least I can look forward to Daniel's wedding—a few days ofcelebrationand family might be what I need to shake off this mess. I navigate to my booking, eager to see those flight details and picture myself far away from here.

Instead, my stomach drops as I see an error message:“Booking not found.”

I blink hard as if that will magically fix whatever glitch is messing with me. Nope. Still there. I let out a short, humorless laugh.“Fantastic. The cherry on top of this disaster sundae.”

My fingers fly across the screen,desperatelysearching for anexplanation. Butdeep down, I already know—this day isn't done kicking me while I'm down.

I bite back a curse andimmediatelydial the airline's customer service number. After what feels like an eternity on hold, a chirpy voice informs me thatdue to a payment issue, myreservationhas been voided.

And, of course, because the universe hates me today, there are no more available seats on flights to Daniel's wedding location.

Perfect. Just perfect.

I sink into my chair, the day'scatastrophesweighing on me. Daniel's wedding is in four days, my job is gone, my car is useless, and now I have no way to get there. It's like the plot of a bad rom-com, except I'm not finding itfunny at all.

Daniel's teasing about Jett keeps playing in my head.“He's not that bad these days.”

The image of Jett's self-assured smirk lingers in my thoughts, causing a sly grin to play at the corners of my mouth. It seems that my brother's best friend and leadsinger of Eclipse, the world-famous rock band, is my only hope.

I take asteadying breath.

Am I reallyconsideringthis? Days on the road with Jett, trapped in close quarters, subjected to his charm and thatinfuriatingsmirk?But what choice doI have?

I pull up Jett's latest hit song on my app, embracing thefamiliar strains of his voice.

“It's just a ride,”I tell myself firmly.

With aridiculouslyhot rock star who probably doesn't even remember my name.

Chapter 2

Jett

The vintage Les Paul guitar feels foreign in my hands as I lounge on the overstuffed leather sectional.

This opulent Hollywood Hills mansion is the epitome of my dream life—vaulted ceilings, imported marble, and more square footage than a city block.

Yet, the polished luxury only amplifies the emptiness gnawing at me.

A sharp rap on the door interrupts my thoughts. Here we go.

Gary, my relentlessly upbeat manager, bustles in with Sloane, the dynamo publicist he hired to “elevate my brand.”

Sloane’s white-toothed smile and sleek locks scream ‘high maintenance.’

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