Page 9 of How to Catch a Rockstar

“I can’t exactly order a stripper pole to be delivered to your house with my phone.”

“As if you can get a workman out here to install a pole within a day.”

“Damn,” he mutters. “You owe me.”

I plop down next to him and switch on the television. “Which is why I’m going to introduce you to Thomas Shelby.”

“Who’s Thomas Shelby?”

“Duh. The leader of the Peaky Blinders.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Be nice and I’ll start the show at the beginning for you.”

“I’m always nice,” he says in a deep voice and those flames return to heat my body from the inside out.

“Really?” I raise an eyebrow. “Do I need to remind you of the time the police wanted to arrest you because you wouldn’t stop mouthing off at them?”

“It was a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding? You didn’t mean to tell the officer to stick his baton up his ass and fuck himself with it?”

“He was harassing a woman. He wanted to arrest her without any evidence because of the color of her skin.”

I frown. I hadn’t heard this part of the story.

“And when I asked him politely to explain what his probable cause was to search her car, he said I was an asshole and told me to mind my own business.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all of this? I could have had the incident investigated.”

He shrugs and glances away but not before I notice the blush on his cheeks. Is he embarrassed about being kind? No one should be embarrassed about doing a good deed.

I change the channel to my favorite streaming station. Jett groans.

“Behave and I’ll order take-out from the Mexican place you like.”

He perks up. “The one the rest of the band won’t let me order from?”

“As long as you promise to stay out of the master bathroom.”

He holds out his hand. “You have a deal.”

I shake his hand and sparks ignite when his calloused hand touches mine. I inhale a deep breath and force thoughts of how those calloused hands would feel roaming over my body out of my mind.

“You’re not so bad, Aurora Sharpe.” He winks. “This might be the beginning of a wonderful friendship.”

“As long as you don’t expect me to kick women out of your hotel room for you.”

He waggles his eyebrows. “What about men?”

I throw a pillow at him. “You’re bad, Jett Peterson.”

“Being bad is fun. You should try it sometime.”

Would it be bad to throw myself at him? My body tingles and my stomach flips at how bad we could be.

Off limits, Aurora. Off. Limits.

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