Page 14 of Rockstar's Fake Engagement

She grins, nudging me with her elbow. “I don’t know. Can’t have people thinking I’ve been corrupted by a brooding rockstar recluse.”

I smirk. “Pretty sure you’re the one corrupting my peace.”

She laughs, but there’s something in her expression—something lighter, freer—that makes me wonder if she likes the idea of shaking up my solitude.

We keep walking, and the conversation is easy, unforced. It’s strange how comfortable this feels and how natural it is.

“Are you familiar with the Wild Band?”

“A little,” Lacey says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Tell me about them. They’re more than just your bandmates, right? They’re your friends?”

I tell her about the band, giving her quick descriptions of the guys and their significant others before finally landing on the reason I brought it up.

“We’ve been invited to Cass’s place for dinner tomorrow night.”

Her brow lifts. “As in Cass Wild—lead singer?”

“The one and only,” I confirm. “Everyone wants to meet you. Especially Cassidy, his fourteen-year-old daughter. “

She groans, covering her face. “Oh God. She’s a fan, isn’t she?”

I chuckle. “Huge fan.”

She peeks at me through her fingers. “Will this be a disaster?”

“Nah.” I nudge her with my shoulder. “They’ll adore you.”

She drops her hands, giving me a skeptical look. “You sound awfully confident for someone who barely knows me.”

I hold her gaze, my smirk fading slightly. “I’m a good judge of character.”

She studies me for a second longer before looking away, her smile smaller, softer. “Yeah, well. Let’s hope you’re right.”

“I am. Especially Vince, our lead guitarist. He’ll probably flirt with you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Should I flirt back?”

“God, no. He’d never let me live it down.”

Her laugh carries on the breeze, and something in my chest tightens. “They sound great,” she says. “But they don’t know? About this being...”

“Fake?” I finish. “No. Emily thinks it’s best that way… and don’t forget the NDA.”

Lacey nods. “Well, I promise to be appropriately smitten with my very own rockstar fiancé.”

“Please, do you even know our music?”

“Actually...” She pulls out her phone, scrolls through her playlist, and holds it up. It’s the image of our latest album.

“Research?” I ask.

“Maybe a little—to learn more about you,” she admits. “But Wild’s always been one of my favorite bands. You’re really good. That drum solo in ‘Midnight Confessions’ is fantastic.”

Something warm spreads through my chest. “That’s my favorite track to play live.”

We walk back as the sun starts to set, trading stories about performances and film sets, learning the little details that friends would know. By the time we reach the house, I feel like I actually know her—not just the actress, but the woman who sneaks candy onto movie sets and still gets stage fright before big scenes.

“I probably need to sleep,” she says as we head upstairs. “It was a long flight.”

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