Page 7 of How to Catch a Rockstar

“Old habits die hard, ma’am.”

I slap his shoulder. “And now you’re making me feel old.”

Jett growls behind me. Stan clears his throat. “I’ll be patrolling the building and grounds.”

He nods to Jett before leaving the apartment. And now Jett and I are all alone.

All alone in my apartment where there’s a bed. My stomach dips and excitement rushes through me at the idea of Jett in my bed. Of him completely naked and lying there waiting for me.

Speaking of Jett, he hasn’t moved away from the doorway. His nose wrinkles as he scans my apartment.

“This is your home?”

Welp. There’s one surefire way to rid myself of any inappropriate excitement.

I glare at him. “Don’t be an ass.”

“I’m serious, Aurora. Doesn’t Mike pay you?”

I roll my eyes. “Of course, he pays me. I don’t work my ass off for free.”

“Maybe you should ask for a raise.” Says the man who’s tried to get me fired more times than I care to count.

“I earn more than any other of the PAs in the firm.” Because I’m worth it.

“Mike is obviously not using his cut of our royalties to pay his assistants.”

I’m not destitute. I make a decent wage. But San Diego is one of the most expensive cities to live in in the United States. And I still have a ton of debt from grad school. Add one plus one and you end up with an apartment the size of a shoebox.

“Not all of us are rich rockstars who can buy flip-flops that cost more than what some people earn in a month.”

He studies his feet and his brow wrinkles. “They’re flip-flops.”

He has no clue how expensive those flip-flops are. It’s adorable. No. Wait. What am I thinking? It’s not adorable. It’s infuriating. Frustrating. Makes me want to pop his clueless head like a big, fat zit. Pop!

“You can go to a hotel or back home tomorrow. For today, it’s important you have peace and quiet. No fans. No stunts.”

He grimaces. “What else is there to do?”

Me?

Knock it off, Aurora. No one is doing anyone. Rockstars you work for are off limits. Especially rockstars who hate you for unknown reasons.

I hold up the bag of painkillers. “You’ll probably pass out after you take these.”

“I’m not taking any drugs.”

“They’re not recreational drugs. They’re painkillers.”

“Still.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I promised my bandmates I wouldn’t do drugs anymore.”

What is he talking about?

“Oh yeah. The mushroom incident.”

His cheeks flare and he ducks his chin. I wasn’t on the tour bus when Jett decided to try mushrooms, but the story is the stuff of legends. Apparently, he took off all of his clothes and attacked the driver to let him off the bus because it was trying to murder him. I would kill for a video of the incident.

“I don’t think Cash, Dylan, Fender, or Gibson will have a problem if you take some painkillers.”

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