Page 2 of Don't Fall For A Rockstar

“Don’t let Brodie hear you say that,” Ace warned with a grin.

I chuckled in response, thinking about the rockstars I worked with—and their egos. “No shit. But come on, you heard it.”

Ace nodded and ran a hand through his long, blond hair. “I did. Nate’s got a great baritone, deep and strong. It doesn’t have that raspy undertone like Brodie’s, but it’s still phenomenal. He’s got good stage presence, too.”

Good? Try hot as hell. The lead singer of Killmine was one of the sexiest men I’d ever seen—on or off stage—and I’d seen a lot of performers. With shaggy chestnut curls, a lithe frame, and lush lips, Nate had my dirty imagination running overtime.

“Brodie said you were coming out to the club with the rest of the crew. Did I hear that right?”

Ace tended to keep himself to himself. He was friendly, but kinda shy in his own way. At least, until he had a few drinks. But I’d seen him party as hard as the rockstars we worked for.

Ace shrugged. “Maybe. But I think I’m getting too old for that shit.”

“Old? You’re thirty-eight? Come on,” I encouraged. “It’s gonna be great.”

Ace’s phone buzzed. “I gotta head downstairs. I’ll leave you to it.”

I nodded and swiped a hand through my spiky hair. Unlike most of the crew, I kept mine short, buzzed on the sides. Nosense hiding the Celtic tattoos that snaked up my neck. I’d paid damn good money for them.

Three hours—and one temporary power outage—later, and most of the gear was locked and loaded. But unfortunately, two of our crew were sick, puking their guts out backstage. I didn’t ask why, and I didn’t want to know. Some roadies partied more than they worked, so I’d have to keep a close eye. Thank fuck we had until the following day to clear out, even though we always did our best to get shit moved out as soon as possible.

Tommy: Two of our crew are sick and headed back to the hotel. We’re gonna need to finish up tomorrow.

Ace: I’ll text the venue manager. I’m still downstairs. Be up in a minute.

Taking a quick break, I checked out socials, curious about the fans’ reaction to the concert. There were a shit ton of comments about Wayward Lane, of course. Their fans were rabid. And there were also quite a few posts about Killmine. They were a popular local band, but I had a feeling not for much longer. They had a unique sound and a stellar singer. Big things were coming their way.

“Sorry,” Ace announced as he stepped out on stage. “I was…uh…I got into a discussion with someone, and I lost track of time.”

“No worries.”

“Venue manager confirmed we have until EOD tomorrow to finish loading, so we’re good to knock off for the night.”

“Cool.”

A half-hour later, we headed out. Ace and I signed off on the trucks that were full and hopped in a rideshare to head back to the hotel.

It took me ten minutes to shower and change. Slipping into my best jeans, boots, and a plaid shirt, I took one last look in the mirror. I left the top buttons of the shirt open and rolled up the sleeves, then grabbed a bottle of styling crème and ran it through my short strands.

Ace and I met in the lobby, where we got an escort from Lennie.

We arrived at the club a short while later and were ushered inside via the rear entrance. The venue was two stories, with a gothic vibe and pulse-pounding music that made for the sexiest kind of atmosphere.

As we moved through the packed crowd to the VIP area, I spotted the boys of Wayward Lane. Holloway had several beautiful men flirting with him. Brodie looked to be in a heated discussion with Van; no surprises there. Faise and Ronin, who were not only bandmates but best friends, were standing nearby, Ronin’s arm around Faise’s shoulders. Bodyguards were on duty while ardent admirers came and went, chatting up the guys and then moving on to the bar or the dance floor.

The guys waved us over, and a server appeared with trays of tequila shots. More VIP guests crowded around the band.

Everyone grabbed two glasses, and I gratefully accepted mine.

I was more than ready to down both when a sudden, deep voice startled me.

“Can I have one of those,cher?”

I turned to find none other than Nate Filier standing behind me. The lead singer whose husky voice was still echoing in my ear. He’d changed out of his Halloween costume and into a sinful pair of burgundy leather pants and a sheer black top, his onlyaccessory the slick gloss on those sexy lips of his. Lips that were curved in a flirty grin. I glanced around, surprised that, yes, Nate was talking to me.

When I finally made eye contact, there was no mistaking the heated interest in those deep-set blue eyes of his. My pulse pounded fierce and hot, my dick starting to fill.

Fuck me.

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