Page 24 of Rockstar's Fake Engagement

I turn to meet her gaze, fighting the pull to close the distance between us. The ocean breeze catches in her hair, her expression soft but knowing, and something dangerous unfurls in my chest.

There’s more to Lacey Monroe than the cameras show—she’s fun, challenging, and sexy as hell without trying. The way she looks at me with those knowing dark eyes reaches places I thought I’d locked away.

And as we sit there, side by side, with the waves rolling in steady and sure, I can’t help but wonder if, despite everything, I’m actually looking forward to whatever comes next, even if it turns my well-ordered life upside down.

Eight

Lacey

The sun dips toward the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold. I’m hyperaware of Nate beside me—the way his t-shirt pulls across his shoulders when he reaches for his wine glass and how his forearms flex as he gestures. Even these casual movements send a flutter through my stomach that has nothing to do with the wine.

“I love this time of day,” I say, hugging my knees to my chest, partly to stop myself from reaching out to touch him.

“Yeah?” His voice has that low, rough quality that makes my skin tingle.

I watch his profile, the glow of the sunset catching on his dark hair and defining the sharp line of his jaw. When he turns to look at me, the intensity in his blue eyes is piercing.

“Have you always been this optimistic?” he asks.

I laugh softly. “Not always. But I try to be.”

He studies me for a long second. “Why?”

I tilt my head, thinking before I answer softly. “Because I’ve seen what happens when you let the world make you bitter.”

My voice is too quiet, too thoughtful. And I can feel his scrutiny as if my words revealed more than I meant them to. Like he’s wondering what I’ve been through—what I might have lost.

Something about the look in his eyes unsettles me.

I look back out at the ocean, wondering why this man—who is supposed to be nothing more than a temporary arrangement—makes me feel like I want to know everything about him.

I exhale, resting my chin on my knees. “So. What’s next?”

Nate arches a brow. “For?”

“For us,” I tease, nudging him. “You know, for Hollywood’s golden couple.”

He gives a low chuckle. “You mean besides pretending we’re hopelessly in love?”

“Yes.”

He grins. “Well, we’ve got your family dinner next Sunday. That should be fun.”

I groan. “You’re way too calm about that.”

He smirks. “I like a challenge.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, you just wait.”

Right then, my phone buzzes, and I groan, glancing at the screen.

“Another family member?” Nate asks, and I can hear the amusement in his tone.

“Not this time. It’s Rachel. And you won’t be laughing when you see the list of appearances she wants us to make.”

Nate leans over, reading the text over my shoulder, his warmth seeping into my side. “Let’s see... Morning show interviews, charity gala, album launch party...” He whistles low. “She’s not wasting any time.”

“At least the charity gala sounds fun,” I offer, scrolling through the extensive list. “And your album launch—that’s exciting.”

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