Page 4 of How to Catch a Rockstar

Chapter 2

Jett – a rockstar who doesn’t mind a broken bone or two but hates hospitals

Jett

“Where have you been?” I shout at Aurora when she enters my hospital room despite knowing she spent the night curled up in the chair sleeping next to me.

When she wasn’t on her phone or computer working that is. The woman works entirely too hard. The word fun doesn’t exist in her vocabulary.

She startles and nearly drops the coffee cups she’s carrying. Her light green eyes flash with pain before she blinks and it’s gone. I ignore the guilt gnawing at my stomach for causing her pain. It has to be this way. I have to push her away.

Aurora Sharpe has relationship, white picket fences, and babies written all over her. I don’t do relationships and I am never falling in love and having children. In fact, my bandmate Gibson and I have a pact to never fall in love.

I scowl. Gibson broke our pact when he fell for his country girl, Mercy. He can break our pact all he wants. I’m not falling in love. Ever.

Aurora stomps to the bed and slams a coffee down on the tray in front of me.

“Getting the supreme asshole of the universe his coffee,” she snarls.

“Thank you,” I say as I pick up the coffee.

“Did it kill you to say thank you? Should I phone the doctor to make sure you’re not having a heart attack?”

I hold her gaze as I raise my hand and flip her off.

“One day you’re going to give someone less tolerant than me the finger and they’re going to break your finger right off of your hand.”

“You?” I snort. “Tolerant? Did you forget what the word means?”

Anger flares in her eyes and her lips purse. Damn. How I want to pull her into my arms and feel all her fire up close. Taste those puffy pink lips of hers and discover for myself how they taste. While I thread my hands through her curly blonde hair as I devour her mouth. I bet her hair is as soft as silk.

I’d haul her body to mine. Touch all of those curves I’ve been imagining for years for myself. Aurora is a tiny thing. At a few inches over five feet, she’s nearly a foot shorter than me. I bet she’d fit perfect tucked into my shoulder.

I shove those thoughts into the hole they live in. Aurora Sharpe is a woman you invite home to meet your parents. Too bad for her I don’t have any family.

She opens her mouth to respond to me, but her phone beeps and she glances down at it instead.

“You’re a workaholic,” I mutter as I sip on my coffee.

I nearly groan as the taste of the caramel latte hits my tongue. This is not a hospital cafeteria coffee. I’d ask where she got it, but Aurora would never tell me anyway.

She hits send on her message before answering me. “Being a hard worker is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I work hard.” Play hard? Work hard? Same thing.

She raises her eyebrow but before I can respond, the doctor enters the room.

“Can I get out of here?” I ask.

He flips open my chart and studies it for a few moments. I tap my fingers on the tray while I wait. Aurora reaches over and grasps my wrist to stop me. My skin warms where she touches me. I wonder how her touch would feel on other parts of my body. I clear my throat before I end up visibly excited in a hospital gown.

“Patience is a virtue,” she sings.

“Good thing you’re not the singer of the band,” I grumble.

I’m lying. Aurora’s voice is angelic. She should dump the PA gig and join a band. But she won’t. Aurora’s made it perfectly clear what she thinks of musicians.

She rolls her eyes. “Be polite.”

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