Page 4 of Accidental Baby For My Brother’s Best Friend

Locke

At the break of our set, while I’m still smiling at Gemma spilling her martini, Axel is looking around the crowd.

I stand up and rub my face with the hand towel I keep on stage, being careful not to snag my silver nose ring. It’s not as if it’s new, I’ve had it for nearly ten years, but I’ve made that mistake before and it’s not pretty on stage.

“That blonde is waiting for you at the bar, Ax, don’t worry,” I joke, and Axel shoots me a grin.

“Not looking for her,” he says mysteriously, and I shrug.

I don’t ask questions about what the other members get up to when the set is over. It’s none of my business, as long as they don’t get physically hurt. If they wanna roll the dice on getting their hearts broken, that’s on them.

I’ve done my fair share of rolling the dice in that area, myself.

I don’t worry too much about Axel, or even Jackson, for that matter. They’ve been around the block. Axel seems to get a new girl every night, and Jackson has a girl every few months and seems to get over it quickly and move on to the next.

I worry a little about Sam, just because he’s so young. Twenty-five might not seem that young to most people, but since I’m in my thirties, it’s very young to me. I remember what I was like at his age, idealistic, justknowingthat I’d somehow make a living off my musical talent alone and meet the perfect woman.

I don’t want sweet Sam to have to go through the same things I did, so I admit that I keep an eye on him. Not the way that Jackson keeps an eye on Gemma, of course, but I do tend to watch out for some of the groupies that have a thing for bassists and keep them off his trail.

It’s not that I’m celibate or anything like that, God forbid. I’ve been in quite a few compromising positions, especially since there’s a certain type of woman who tends to go after the drummer instead of one of the more out-there members of the band. They tend to be a bit more…aggressive, and it’s fun to play dumb until we’re behind closed doors. Turning the tables is one of my specialties, I suppose.

Being a rocker has its perks, even if you’re still performing in bars and clubs.

Gemma comes out of the bathroom and since her dress is black, the martini didn’t ruin it or even make a stain, and I’m grateful. She’d bereallymad instead of just annoyed, and since everyone is in such a jovial mood, I wouldn’t want to ruin things by getting in a real fight with our manager.

I expect her to ignore me. Instead, she stalks right up to me. I’m tall, but in her stilettos, Gemma isalmosteye to eye with me and her chin is tilted up.

“What’s up with you, Kincaid?” Gemma demands to know, and I fight a smile, blinking innocently at her instead.

“I don’t know what you mean, little bit.”

“Don’t call me that,” she mutters and brushes past me, bumping my shoulder as she heads to the bar.

I’ve never exactly been the type to like to rile others up or tease people, but something about Gemma makes me want to make her pale green eyes flash at me. It’s not because she’s younger than me, or because she’s my best friend’s younger sister. God knows I have zero brotherly feelings toward her, even if maybe I should.

The way she reacts to me is just… more intriguing than those women who come on to me just because I’m in a band.

More intriguing and a lot scarier, especially given that Jackson was staring daggers at me as I thought about his sister.

I clear my throat and make my way to the bar, on the other end of where Gemma is standing, no doubt ordering another filthy martini.

“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing,” Jackson says, his tone eerily nonchalant as he orders two shots of tequila for us despite knowing my distaste for liquor during our set.

I take in a deep breath.

“No idea what you’re talking about, Jacks.” I take the shot without hesitation, avoiding the urge to look for Gemma at the other end of the bar.

“I’ve got enough to worry about on this tour that I don’t need youandAxel making eyes at my baby sister,” Jackson grumbles, taking only half his shot, which is almost as unusual as what he’s saying.

I begin to nod and then my eyes widen and I look over at Jackson.

“Axel? The tour?” My head is spinning and I doubt it’s from the alcohol. “Gemma’s not coming with us.” It isn’t a question. There is no possible way that Gemma Arden is coming on tour with us. What’s she gonna do, sleep on the tour bus with a bunch of guys? “And what the hell does Axel have to do with Gemma?”

“You haven’t noticed him winking at her onstage and showing off his stupid sleeve?” Jackson huffs. “I’ve been on the defensive, keeping him away from her since sometime last year. What are you, blind?”

I blink, something feeling tight in the pit of my stomach. Maybe that last shot of tequila was a bad idea after all. And I may not beblind, but definitely wrapped up in my own thoughts in the past year – especially when it came to Gemma and the future of the group. For some reason, I find it hard to think about Axel coming on to Gemma, even though I’d already come to terms with the fact that I had zero brotherly feelings toward her. I guess maybe I’m a little protective, nonetheless, on Jackson’s behalf. Honestly, I don’t like the way I’m feeling as I think about it, so I focus on something else, the other important matter at hand.

“Gemma isn’t coming with us,” I repeat, staring straight at Jackson.

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