Manhandled: A Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 2) (7 page)

I
rolled
over and buried my head under my pillow. What the hell was that banging? And why did my mouth taste like I’d made out with a clove of garlic?

“Up and at ’em!”

“Fuck off!” I muttered into my mattress.

“You want to get out of this place, then shake your ass, Faith.”

I flipped back my pillow. “What did you say?”

“We’re going out.”

I rolled off the side of my bed and stumbled. “Oh, fuck. No more wine.” I weaved my way to the door and swung it open. “What? Leaving? Really?”

Quinn stood in the doorway, his standard cargo pants and Henley in place. “You keep ragging on about being stuck in here. So, we’re going out.”

I pushed my hair out of my face. “Awesome. I’ll be ready in ten.” I blinked up at him. “Wait. Is Owen still here?”

“Negative.”

“Did you wake him up just as rudely?”

He pursed his lips. “I may have opened the blinds in your guest room before he went to bed last night.”

“You’re a cruel, cruel man.”

“Did I not tell you to back off on the wine at two this morning?”

“It was way too late at that point, Warden.”

“It’s never too late to put the glass down. Get ready.” He walked down the hall to the stairs. “And brush your teeth. Twice.”

I slapped my hand over my mouth. “Hateful,” I muttered and shut my door. Afraid that he would change his mind about actually leaving, I raced into my bathroom and took a five-minute shower. I would have skipped a shampoo except there was garlic coming out of every pore and it had traveled into my hair.

Holy mercy, that boy put garlic in everything. It had tasted amazing, but good thing I hadn’t been kissing anyone last night.

A quick flash of Quinn pressing his lips together when I’d tried to lure him into tasting my breadstick came out of nowhere.

There were times when he was the most closed-off man on the planet. I had no freaking clue what he was thinking about ninety-five percent of the time. Then there were the other moments.

The dangerous moments, when he seemed to be on the verge of…something. I didn’t know if it was shaking me, shooting me, or…other.

I didn’t really want to think too much about the other.

The
other
played tag with me in dreams. As I was running away from someone, then running to him. Obviously it was because he was guarding me. Every woman had fantasies about a strong, virile man playing hero to her damsel in distress. Even friends who were the most independent people I knew had one or two fantasies that included a rescue.

When it came to Devon, my best friend, they were usually of the handcuff variety. But she was the exception to many rules. One of the reasons I loved her dearly. And missed her even more.

I didn’t want to worry her while she was out of the country. I was going to catch hell for it, but I didn’t want to ruin her trip. She’d been saving for years to backpack her way around Ireland. My little drama would still be here when she got home.

We’d actually coordinated our schedules so we had a few days together before my tour started up again. Tuesday. Just a few more days under the warden’s rule and then I’d have Devon in my corner. Two feisty women against one man was more way more fun.

Until then, I had to deal with him on my own.

I quickly parted my hair and did two messy half-braids so my wavy hair wouldn’t run wild. I didn’t have time to dry it properly. Not if I wanted to make sure Quinn definitely didn’t change his mind.

I slipped on a few rings because I felt naked without them, my favorite hoop earrings, and a trio of necklaces. After a quick dash of blush, gloss, and mascara so I didn’t look like a teenager next to Mr. Silver Temples, I ran for my closet.

“Faith! Is this your idea of ten minutes?”

What? Was he honestly so literal? A girl’s ten minutes was not actually ten minutes, for fuck’s sake. “Two minutes,” I hollered through the door. I dropped my robe and struggled into my bra. Dammit, my skin was still damp.

I snapped the strap into place and dragged on a Clash T-shirt, my favorite jeans, and my red Chucks. My lightweight leather jacket finished the look. I might have to be quick, but shit, I still could look cute. The cameras were always around.

Especially now.

I was halfway down the hall when I turned back around for a pair of sunglasses. Just in case the paparazzi really were out en masse, I didn’t need to look like a deer caught in headlights. It was bad enough I’d made headlines at Hunter’s wedding.

It was supposed to be his day—Kennedy’s day.

Instead, everyone was talking about how I’d almost gotten…what? Kidnapped? Drugged? Murdered?

No one knew.

I took a deep breath as I got to the bottom of the stairs.

No one really knew.

I’d been trying so hard to believe that it was just a fluke. But what if it wasn’t? I clutched the wall as I paused on the second-to-last stair. I wasn’t going to let fear rule me, dammit. I lifted my chin and took the last few steps.

“What are we waiting for?” I put on my shades and headed for the door.

“Hold up.”

I held up my arms. “Right. You first. Age before beauty.”

He slid his hand behind his back and I heard the slide of his gun into his holster. What had I expected? That he wasn’t going to carry a weapon? I knew he had a gun. I’d seen his shoulder holster the first day he’d come into my house.

But not this? Not at the base of his spine.

That was new.

He pulled down a button-down denim shirt over his faded gray Henley. He wore black cargos today. All of it made him look tanner, more unapproachable, and way more badass.

I swallowed as he put mirrored aviators on.

Why did he have to be so attractive? I could handle a paunchy ex-cop, or even a lantern-jaw marine-looking dude, but not an Alex O’Loughlin stunt double. The wrongness was beyond wrong.

He held the door for me, and shadowed me out the door. His hand was light on the small of my back as he looked around and led me to a sleek black BMW. He opened the door for me and waited as I swung my legs in.

“Buckle up.”

“I’m not seven.”

“You’re right. If you were seven you’d be riding in the back.” He shut the door before I could say anything else.

I clicked the buckle and fussed with the shoulder strap. Always choking the short people. He got in and the car instantly felt smaller. His long fingers checked gauges and settings, then he tucked his phone into the cup holder as the Bluetooth engaged.

“Welcome, Quinn. Do you have a destination?”

My eyebrows shot up? “It talks?”

He grinned at me. “Bulletproof too.” Then he tapped the screen and cleared the menu, slapping the shifter into reverse. His driving was smooth and sure. He followed all the traffic laws—sort of. He drove defensively in a way that I’d never seen. And I’d been navigating California highways all my driving life.

Instead of being stuck in traffic jams, he seemed to know side streets I’d never heard of. He was always scanning his line of sight, his jaw tight with concentration.

“Where are we going?”

“I called your manager and checked if you had anything scheduled this week.”

“I thought we cancelled all the personal appearances.”

“Ms. West did, but I think we figured out a way to show everyone you’re doing well. Diffuse some of the newspaper accounts, and give you a few hours reprieve from the house. Ms. West seemed to think it was a good idea too.”

“Ms. West. Indie would freak if she heard you call her that.”

“She’s going to meet us at Mochachello’s on Sunset.”

I was pretty sure my jaw was somewhere on the floor. “Mochachello’s? Really?” It was only my favorite coffeehouse. They specialized in creating hot chocolate-coffee hybrids that were to die for.

He nodded. “It’s small, intimate, and I can cover all the egress points. You can soak up some atmosphere and I can make sure you’re safe.”

I pulled out my phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Indie.”

He nodded. “That’s fine.”

“Gee thanks.”

“Just don’t go blasting this around social media. I don’t want it to become too big of a deal.”

“Then how are people going to know I’m doing okay?”

“Indie’s leaking it to a few select fan blogs. There will be some chatter, but we’ll keep it to a minimum. If you want to do some Tweeting or Instagraming, or whatever when we’re there, that’s fine. By then we’ll be on a clock to get out anyway.”

“How long is my furlough?”

“Very funny, Faith.”

My lips twitched. I thought it was funny. I scrunched down in my seat and spoke with Indie for a few minutes. For the first time in days, my mood was actually lifting.

This was going to be great.

I
was in hell
.

How many females could actually fill the booths and bar stools in one little freaking place? The walls were chalkboards with art from local artists with a timer at the edge of each one.

True pieces of flash art.

It was about the only interesting part of the damn place. They ruined coffee with chocolate and caramels and all sorts of flavors. I had to tell the waitress three times to just put coffee in a mug and hand it to me. No extras. Not even sugar.

But Faith was in her element. Her smile was huge and her laughter rang through the room. Even people who hadn’t realized she was famous couldn’t help but notice her. She practically shone like a beacon.

It was fascinating and horrifying from a job standpoint.

How was I supposed to keep her incognito when we went on her tour? She was a natural entertainer with quippy conversations and a laughter that drew people to her like a siren song.

I know I was already in danger of crashing into the rocks for her.

Fuck.

I was getting as fanciful as she was.

Not good.

My phone buzzed at my hip. I checked it briefly and groaned. I was set up to receive any and all alerts from her media accounts. It wasn’t like I hadn’t given her permission to do it, but I’d hoped she would avoid telegraphing her whereabouts our first time out.

A fancy coffee filled the screen and the edge of the menu. At least she didn’t tag the place outright. But it seemed like the entire area flocked to this establishment for their froufrou coffee.

She had her second huge mug of coffee-laced hot chocolate in front of her with mountains of marshmallows and whipped cream. Who the hell needed both?

She was going to be zooming on sugar and caffeine for the rest of the damn day. I’d probably get another medley of songs as my afternoon treat.

Fucking wonderful.

I stood against the wall, three feet from her. An octopus and a ship were in an epic battle in DayGlo orange and purple over my shoulder. And across from me was a startlingly lifelike mermaid on a craggy rock.

Fitting.

Sirens and mermaids were pretty much the same thing.

A murmur of voices ramped up, and I stepped forward away from the wall.

Faith smiled at two children who came up to the table.

“Your rings are pretty.”

“Why thank you.” She held her hand out to show off a half dozen sparkles on her fingers.

“I’m sorry.” A woman rushed to the table and I moved behind Faith. She had a short cap of blonde hair and a harried look on her face. I relaxed slightly as she led the children away from the table with more apologies.

Faith waved to the youngest girl with wispy pigtails in her almost nonexistent hair.

She dropped her other hand and waved me back.

When two more women came forward, I stiffened.

“Keys? Faith Keystone?”

She smiled warmly again and pushed her sunglasses up. “You got me.”

“I can’t believe it’s you.”

Faith waved her hand to encompass the room. “Who doesn’t like chocolate and coffee?”

Me.

I’d never loved my sunglasses more than today. It was getting harder and harder not to roll my eyes at the incessant chatter about spice this, and dark-chocolate-sea-salt-fantastical-blend-with-a-hint-of-coffee that. Seriously. These people wouldn’t know a decent cup of coffee if it was poured over their heads.

The three of them raved over their favorite drinks for a few minutes. Faith got each girl to talk through the stutters with kindness until they were all laughing like old friends.

She was kind of amazing.

The light conversation faded to the back of my mind as I watched the room—until one of the girls asked a question that made my ears perk up.

“We read such awful stuff on the internet about you. We’re so glad you’re all right. How could anyone be so uncool?”

Faith sipped her drink without answering. She gave her a noncommittal hum instead of actually going into detail.

Good girl.

“You’re not canceling the tour, are you?”

Heaven forbid.

I knew from a business standpoint there was no way to do that, but the logistics of the next two months were giving me an eye-twitch.

“Absolutely not. You know nothing keeps me down for long.”

The woman closest to Indie clutched her purse to her chest. “No. I remember when you broke your arm during the ‘Rusted Armor’ video. You were back on the piano before the cast came off.”

Faith laughed. “It was only the wrist. My fingers worked fine.”

The other girl clutched her phone in her hand. “Would you sign this?” She popped her phone out of the case and flipped it over. “I can get a clear case to show it off tomorrow.”

“Really?” Faith’s smile was a damn ray of light. Seeing her out and about with people made it even more apparent that she was miserable being shut away. “That’s so sweet.”

I stepped close again, watching hands and purses to make sure nothing else was going on. When her hand dropped to wave me off again, I ignored her. She got more insistent until her fingers brushed between my knees and I stiffened.

I opened my mouth to warn them to back off, but the girls looked up at me and instantly shrank away.

Guess the sunglasses only hid so much.

Faith nailed me with a dirty look over her shoulder. But the smile was back on her face when she faced the girls again. “Sorry. My boyfriend gets a little protective.”

I blinked.

Boyfriend?

Indie quickly covered her mouth with a napkin, but I still heard the snort of laughter.

Well, that was one way to explain my presence. I had no problem letting people know I was a bodyguard, but this actually would work a little easier. No one would question me being around her if they thought we were involved.

I moved up until my thighs brushed the back of her chair. I tried for a genial grin, but the fans nearly tripped over themselves to get out of there.

When we were alone again, she craned her neck to stare up at me. “Must you be so menacing?”

I lifted one brow. “Yes.”

“Incredible.”

“Wrap it up. We’ve been here for an hour more than I’m comfortable with.”

“We just got here.”

“We’ve been here for eighty-eight minutes.”

Indie grinned at Faith. “Is he always like this?”

“He’s actually nice today,” Faith muttered.

“I’ll endeavor to make up for it tonight.”

Indie leaned in. “Is there something I should know?”

“No,” we both said.

Indie pushed back her battered straw cowboy hat. “Oh, yeah…tour next week is going to be anything but boring.”

I waved to the girl behind the counter. “Could we have a to-go cup?”

“Sure thing,” she called back.

“You suck, Warden.” Faith muttered.

I leaned down until my lips were close to her ear. “Is that what you’d call your boyfriend?”

She turned her head until her cheek brushed mine. “You couldn’t handle me or my nicknames,” she said on a low voice.

The urge to say “try me” was burning a hole in my tongue, but there were some things you just couldn’t take back. I stood up to my full height, and spotted another crowd of people heading our way.

“Time to go.”

She spotted the same group, but instead of arguing, she actually nodded. “All right. Lead the way.”

I pulled the chair out for her and dumped her cup into the to-go glass unceremoniously.

“Way to ruin a drink.”

“Just mixing it thoroughly. Wouldn’t want the caramel and chocolate to settle on the bottom now, would we?” I handed her the cup.

“I sense mocking.”

“Now where would you get that idea?”

“Definitely mocking.” She quickened her step. “Better than brooding,” she said with a shrug.

I was never going to understand this woman. I led both women out of the cafe and deposited Indie at her car. It took another five minutes of me playing lookout for them to say their goodbyes.

But the fans were intent on seeing Faith, and found the side street we’d parked on.

“All right, time’s up.”

Faith’s growl face started until she saw the ten people at the end of the street heading for us. “Guess they figured out the picture.”

“Ya think?”

“Rude.”

I hustled her down to the BMW. “Get in the car, Faith.”

“Bye,” she yelled back to Indie.

The older woman was standing at her Jeep with her hands on her hips. “I’ll see you Sunday night.”

Finally, I shut the door after her and rounded the car.

When the first hand landed on the window, I spun the tires. Three girls in their twenties reared back and they all held up their phones for a picture.

I fucking hated dealing with famous people.

Hated.