Dangerous Hearts: Rock Star Romance, 1 (Lyric & Wolf) (5 page)

“Cameras aimed at you at two o’clock,
sir.”

Shit.
There goes my leisurely walk.

It’s not like I’m doing anything
exciting, but they don’t care. Tomorrow morning my leisurely stroll in the park
will turn into some fabricated headline news story. WOLF SPOTTED ON DRUG RUN or
WOLF CAUGHT HAVING MELTDOWN IN THE PARK. I let out a laugh. The media is good.
I’ll give them that. I’m hardly as exciting as they write in their articles.

I can see the flashing camera lights now.
We pick up the pace. Our strides longer, steps are quicker. Until we’re only a
few blocks from the hotel.

“They’re closing in,” Rex says, his tone
carrying a warning. He’s right next to me now.

We start jogging. So do they. I caught
one glimpse before we turned a corner. There must be at least five of them. Not
bad. But now they’re close enough to start asking questions.

“Wolf, can we have an interview?”

No.

“Happy Birthday, Wolf!”

It’s
not my birthday. At least they didn’t bring a fucking cake this time.

“Wolf, can we just get one picture?”

I throw them a smile over my shoulder.
Every now and then I do what it takes to play nice. But it’s not enough for the
vultures. Always on the lookout for their next meal.

 
“Wolf, your fans are getting bored of the
same songs. Got anything new planned for the tour?”

Heat starts in my chest and radiates
outward. They want to wind me up, so I’ll give them something to write about.
Not going to happen
.

Rex is in front of me now, letting me
move through the hotel entrance before him. He stands back, blocking the reporters
from coming any closer.

There are several people milling around
the entrance, all of whom turn to stare at me: The panting big dude wearing a
hoodie and sunglasses. I must look like a creep. I remove the disguise and head
straight for the elevator.

Just as the sliding doors are closing, I
reach into the divide to stop them. They retract. I let out a sigh of relief
before rushing in. Straight into Lyric. She’s resting against the back mirrored
wall, her face priceless when she registers it’s me.

“Well, hello again,” I say, unable to
hold back my smirk. Maybe I should have fallen onto her chest. Payback and all.

My breaths are coming out quickly, still
recovering from my unexpected workout. I catch a glimpse in the mirror of Rex
stepping into the elevator behind me, but my focus is on Lyric. I watch amused
as she straighten
s
her shoulders and looks
around me as if I’m not standing right in front of her. If I had a dime for
every person
who
pretend
ed
to be unaffected by my presence, I’d be filthy
rich—more than I already am. I chuckle.

Her eyes draw tight, narrowing at me. “Are
you following me?” Her voice is filled with exasperation.

Still amused, I turn so that I’m no
longer facing her. We’re shoulder to shoulder now and I’m about to respond, but
when
a gaggle of
teen girls shoves their way
inside at the last second, I change my mind.

“Girls, I’m going to have to ask you to
step out,” Rex says. He’s not a mean guy, but his deep voice is always alarming
to those who aren’t used to it.

The girls look at him wide eyed. One
looks back at me like she might cry.

“No, Rex. Let them ride. It’s okay.” I
smile, effectively causing them to swoon.

Doors close and they immediately start
with the squeals.
Shit.

“It
is
you. Wolf. Oh my God. I love you so much. Can we take a picture with you?”

It’s an elevator selfie ride all the way
to the twelfth floor
,
where the girls get off.
I step out with Lyric on the nineteenth floor, thankful when Rex doesn’t follow
us down the hall. Still, he watches us, and I know he will until I’m safely in
my room.

“Are you following me?”
s
he asks again.

This time I roll my eyes at her. “What
makes you think I’m into you?”

Her eyes bulge. “You stared at me all
through dinner. You followed me into the
elevator .
 . .”
S
he trails off when she realizes that’s all
she’s got.

Room 1924 comes into view
,
so I stop and face her. “You, sweets, need to get
over yourself. I haven’t hit on you once today. If I did, you wouldn’t be
fighting it.”

She crosses her arms and glares. “Is that
right?”

In a power move,
I step forward
,
and
her eyes are directly below mine. This one doesn’t weaken beneath my
gaze. She stands taller. I’m not sure if I like that or not. It’s refreshing
and infuriating in one tiny, sexy, package. “Lyric
.
”
Her name is so fucking sexy as it rolls off my tongue
;
I could make out with it. “If I wanted to, I’d have you inside my room
and
naked in seconds. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a
pretty girl, but looking at you during dinner and walking you to your room is
hardly flirting.”

She
steps
backward until her back hits
the
door
to my room,
and I have a vision of her naked flesh
pressed up against it with me deep inside her.
Fuck
. I know what I’ll be getting off to tonight. Her eyes are
searching mine inquisitively as the fog lifts from my fantasy. “So I’m really
not your type?”

“Not at all,” I lie.

A breath escapes her
,
and although it sounds like a sigh, there seems to
be a hitch in there
,
too. “Okay
,
then. That’s settled. Nothing to worry about.” She
pushes off the wall and slips past me.

“Not at all.” I focus on sliding my key
card
in
to
the slot.

“That should make this upcoming tour much
easier on both of us
,
then,” she says, her
voice fading the further
away
she
get
s.

My smile never wavers as her footsteps
cease,
and her door opens then closes. I let out a
rush of air at the realization that Lyric Cassidy, after only a few hours, had
officially managed to creep under my skin.

Lyric

My
songbook keeps me company wherever I go
—a
n
important lesson I learned years ago after inspiration struck and I realized I
'd
left it at home. It’s like a spontaneous orgasm.
An idea can come at any time
,
and my songbook
is my condom, catching my word babies as they fall. I’ve had this particular
book for only a few months now, but that’s because I fill them quickly
.
I
have stacks of
them in my storage unit back in Seattle.

As my feet soak in the warm pool water
and
my songbook
rests
beside
me, I’m overcome with inspiration. I knew I would be. San Diego is a beautiful
place, filled with beautiful people, and stories are everywhere; I’m aching to
write them. It’s been a few days since I’ve gone
there
. To that place in the deep, dark part of my brain where
emotions and words collide, sparking honesty and vulnerability. My songbook is
my private place—
my only place
—to
unleash these emotions. Because of that, it’s safe to say this is my addiction.
My obsession.

A shriek and giggle—
a shriggle
—fills the air, turning my attention to the couple at the
other end of the pool. There he is. My new boss
,
t
he rock god himself
,
threatening to toss a cute, and entirely too willing, victim into the
deep
end of the pool. My stomach rolls.
I don't
want to watch, but
I'm
unable to
take
my eyes from the scene.
Such noncommittal happiness. It’s not like they’re doing anything
inappropriate. He’s not even groping her yet, but it’s a painful reminder of
what I left in Seattle. Tony and Joanna. Assholes. Despite their betrayal, I
can admit that they happen to be perfect together. It’s the circumstances that
were unfortunate.

Joanna had been my best friend since
grade school. I asked her to go on the tour with me and even found her a job on
the road so she had a good excuse to take a break from college.
As it t
urns out, I am shit at
choosing
friends and seeing through the lies. Joanna
didn’t wait a second to jump into an affair with my boyfriend, and I didn’t realize
Tony was capable of cheating on me. Bad boy rocker and all,
but
I thought our connection was mutual. We’re both
cut from the same cloth. Born into the industry. Emotionally detached, but not
in ways that make us cold. We’re just able to separate emotion from all the
other bullshit going on. At times
,
our
relationship felt more like a business transaction than anything else, but the
sex was good. I’m not the easily stimulated type, but he could still get me to
climax most of the time
.
N
ot that I counted.

Whatever. In the end, he followed his
heart—or dick—even though it meant damaging mine. Heart, that is.

I stare across the pool and shake my head
as
Wolf
wraps his arms around the girl’s slick
body. At least I’m not the only one with issues. That bad boy might just be
worse off than I am. At least I’ve made the decision to abstain from sex until
I figure my shit out. Wolf doesn’t date. At all. And it sounds like he’s
perfectly content hopping from one girl to the next. His heart is destructive.
Dangerous. The last thing I need. Like Tony. Like Joanna. Fuck all of them.

A tingle races up my spine as an idea
strikes. My hands fly to my songbook and the words splatter onto the page. I
can barely write fast enough to keep up with the lyrics racing through my mind.

Two wrongs don’t mend hearts like ours

Two wrongs can never break our fall

I give, you take, it’s no mistake

We’re in too deep, losing sleep

Trying to forget what started it all

Angry eyes and a brick wall armor

Lessons learned, paths paved

Shield unyielding, it’s a heavy weight

One you’ll never penetrate

It’s hopeless, no use trying to be saved

Stay away with your dangerous heart

You ruined us from the start

Your soul is black, your heart is dark

Crushed up broken petals, like it’s an
art

Can’t rely on second chances

Since the first one ripped my heart apart

You’re not welcome here anymore

Cause there’s no going back to the start

By
the time I’m done, my heart is racing and my palms are sweating. That was
probably the most therapeutic thing I’ve done since the breakup. It feels damn
good. I’ve never written a complete song that fast in my life
—
not that it’s perfect. What first draft is? In my
opinion
,
final drafts aren’t even final
,
either. How can they be when every moment of every
day we’re learning new things and partaking in new adventures? Stories change,
just as we do.

Whatever the words that just came out of
me
are
, no matter how healing they may have
been, I’m not sure they’re words I want to hold on to. That song may have been
sparked by the ex asshole in my life
,
but it’s
not a darkness I want to remember. Not every written piece is meant to be saved.

Without thinking about it again, I tear
the page from my songbook and walk it over to the nearest trash can. It seems
to already be exploding with waste. Without another thought
,
I add my lyrics to the pile, convinced that
whatever heartache I felt over Tony is just that
—w
aste.

I didn’t realize Wolf and his lady friend
took off at some point during my writing
spell,
but the shriggles are gone and I’m alone by the pool. Daylight is fading and my
stomach is going crazy with hunger, so I pack my things and head inside.
Without bothering to change, I sit at the hotel bar and order dinner and a
glass of wine.

When the bartender slides my glass in
front of me
,
I reach for it eagerly.

“A pretty girl should never eat or drink
alone. I’d offer you company but I wouldn’t want your head to grow larger than
it already is.”

The teasing voice should be grating, but
it’s familiar and warm and it
is
nice to not be alone for a moment.
His warm body slips onto the stool beside me.

“Ha
,
ha
.
” I face him
with a smirk
.
My eyes have a mind of their own as they flicker between his face and over his
shoulder. The speed at which Wolf moves through women is impressive and
disturbing. “You can join me if you’d like,” I say despite my better judgment.
“I promise I won’t assume you’re crossing an arbitrary line.”

He settles in without hesitation and
steals my menu. “Sounds good.”

A deep breath later, I force myself to
apologize. “I’m sorry for getting the wrong idea the other day. I recently got
out of something
,
and it messed with my head a
bit.” I don’t want to give him more than that. He probably doesn’t want to hear
it anyway, and it’s not an easy conversation to have, especially with someone
who reminds me of the problem.

He doesn’t respond. I’m sure I just made
things way too awkward. “Weren’t you with someone earlier?” I ask. Because
that’s
not awkward.

He peers up at me with a smirk. “If
you’re referring to my sister, she had dinner plans with her husband.”

“You amaze me,” I say before taking a sip
of my wine.

This gets his attention. He turns his
body to
ward
me. “Please continue.”

I chuckle. “You’re a big, bad rocker with
girls who follow you into elevators and trample you after every concert, yet
you’re here alone, you declined an offer to party the other night, and,
according to you, you haven’t hit on me once. Either I’m losing my touch, or
you are.”

He throws back his head and laughs. He
has a nice, throaty laugh that makes me wish I could take back my frustrations
toward the male population and shove my tongue down his throat. “First of all,
I’m only restraining from flirting with you because you laid down the law the
moment we met. But don’t let your head inflate. My natural instinct is to
flirt. It’s what I do, whether you’re my type or not. Second, I’m not alone.
I’m with you. Which means you’re not alone
,
either.”

I let his words settle in before changing
the subject and remember his sightseeing offer. “Were you born in San Diego?”

“B
orn
, b
red,
and raised.”

“And you’re staying in a hotel?”

His response is a shrug.
That’s strange.
“Where are you from?”

“All over. Most recently, Seattle.”

He sets the menu down and orders a
whiskey water from our bartender before continuing. “My second favorite place
in the US. Seattle kicks ass.”

“Agree
d
.”

“So then why are you touring? There are
plenty of music jobs where you’re from.”

Coming from a musician, his question
isn’t that odd. Life on the road is
a
necessity
for him. I have a choice. “I don’t want to stay in one place. That’s what I was
doing when—Anyway, I want to travel. The road is where it’s at for me. Visiting
a new city every couple days. Always a new adventure.”

“So was I wrong about you?”

He doesn’t have to elaborate. I know
exactly what he’s referring to. “Life moves fast while we’re on the road. Isn’t
that how it is for you? Watching life pass you
by
while
you sit behind the glass of a tour bus? We’re just passengers on the road. We’re
life’s bitch. I rarely take detours. Never stop to smell the roses. Life isn’t
stopping for me
,
so I just keep moving through
it. Isn’t that what people call drive? Music is the one good thing. It carries
me and then it catches me when I fall.” I stare into my plate, refusing to meet
his eyes. That got a little deep.

“That’s
so .
 . .
sad.”

“Says the lonely rock star.”

“I’m not lonely. Just because I turn in
early one night doesn’t mean I’m lonely. I’m surrounded by people. Constantly.
How can you possibly call that lonely?”

I give him a look that asks if he’s
joking. He’s either got a great poker face or he
's
in denial. “Wolf
—
is that really what people
call you?”

“That’s my name.”

“Okay
,
then
,
Wolf. Being a musician
—
writing, traveling
—
it’s
the loneliest job ever. It doesn’t matter that you’re surrounded by fifty
thousand people a day. Who knows you? Beyond the music. Who really gets you?
Who can you trust and talk to every day? Who spends their days giving back to
you what you give to the world? Besides all that, you’ve got to be in your head
most of the time and you miss out on everything else. Don’t tell me you’re not
lonely. Without someone to share your stories with, to bounce lyrics off, to go
sightseeing with you
,
to just get away for a
while.”

“I remember asking a certain someone to
go sightseeing with me and she rejected me. If I really am lonely, it’s not my
fault.”

I laugh, relieved the tone of the
conversation
has
lightened. “It’s my fault
you’re lonely?”

“Well, yeah. I guess so.”

“Huh. I see. Well, then
,
I’m sorry.”

He’s smirking into his glass. He thinks
he’s won. And I’m finding myself relax
ing
around him a little more than I’m comfortable with, so maybe he has. Damn it.

We order
,
and it’s quiet while we eat and watch the sports channel above
the bar
. Even through the silence, my thoughts are
loud and so is my pounding heart. Wolf is a charmer and he’s not even trying.
He’s just minding his own business while I’m a flurry over his presence. I took
this job to get away from trouble. Not to run into more of it. I swallow my
last bite and reach for my purse.