“Boss Lady, huh?” Kendrick tries unsuccessfully to hide her amusement. “At least that’s better than cupcake? Right?”

Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “I suppose.”

“Well, don’t let him get you down,” she says in a sympathetic voice. “I made tacos for lunch, and there is plenty to go around.”

Walking into the kitchen, the spicy aroma of Mexican food smells delicious. I automatically join in, helping get everything on the table.

Kendrick looks at her daughter and says, “Cassidy, can you let your dad know that lunch is ready?”

“Sure–”

Cass’s arrival interrupts Cassidy’s words. My heart falls as I notice Sam is with him.

“Emily,” Sam says with a casual shrug, though his eyes glitter with amusement.

“Sam,” I reply equally coolly, my lips thinning in displeasure. “I didn’t know you were joining us.”

He just grins as everyone sits down around the table.

Cass slides into his seat, giving me a quick once-over like he’s reading my mind. He probably is. Sam, on the other hand, drops into the chair directly across from me—again—making himself comfortable. His casual demeanor and smug grin are a toxic cocktail designed to test my patience. And my resistance. Under the table, his leg brushes against mine, and I jerk away, remembering all too well how those legs felt tangled with mine.

“You made tacos,” Sam says, helping himself to a tortilla. “I love this place already.”

“You’re not living here, Sam,” I point out, my tone clipped. Though the thought of him being around constantly makes my pulse race—and not entirely from irritation.

He looks up, his grin widening. “You sure about that, Boss Lady? I’ve got a bunk in the bus parked right outside.”

Cassidy giggles, clearly enjoying the banter, while Kendrick’s expression is a mix of equal parts sympathy and a knowing look, clearly picking up on the tension between us. If she only knew the real reason.

Cass shakes his head, but he’s grinning too. “Can we just eat, guys? I’m starving.”

Kendrick looks pointedly at Sam. “Yes, please. Let’s focus on the food.”

Sam innocently grins as he agrees, “Yeah, we should eat before Emily starts waving that clipboard like a weapon.”

“I’m not the one who needs a weapon,” I mutter under my breath, shooting him a glare.

Sam winks at me.Of course, he hears that.

During dinner, I try to ignore Sam as much as humanly possible. But it’s hard when he’s right there, leaning back in his chair like he doesn’t have a care in the world. While everyone else discusses tour prep and setlists, I’m hyper-aware of his everymovement—the way his fingers drum against his glass, how his throat moves when he swallows, the familiar way he runs his hand through his hair when he’s thinking.

It’s not that Sam’s unlikable. Quite the opposite. He’s charming as hell when he wants to be, with that lopsided grin and effortless confidence that makes people gravitate toward him. The problem is, I know exactly how charming he can be. One tequila-soaked night in Vegas proved that all too well.

“So, Emily,” Sam says as dinner winds down. “What’s on the agenda tomorrow? More branding?”

I narrow my eyes at him, debating whether it’s worth a retort. But before I can answer, Cass jumps in.

“Actually, Sam, Emily’s been working on a sponsorship deal that could bring in some serious cash for the tour. You might want to listen to her for once.”

Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m all ears. Let’s hear it, Em.”

The way he says my name—soft, teasing, almost intimate—sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine. I ignore it, focusing instead on Kendrick, who’s watching us with far too much interest.

“It’s a preliminary deal with a major energy drink,” I say, keeping my tone professional. “They’re offering a substantialpartnership, but they’ll need the band to be more active on social media to promote it.”

Sam groans, leaning back again. “Social media? That’s why you harped on that in the meeting.”

“Welcome to the 21st century,” I shoot back with a grin, unable to resist. “Try not to hurt yourself posting on Instagram.”