How to Be a Rockstar's Girlfriend: a fake dating, small town, rockstar romantic comedy (Cash &

Chapter 10

Trouble – can be good or bad but is always fun either way

Mercy

I stare out the window as I wait for Gibson to arrive. I check my watch. It’s a few minutes past six. Is he standing me up? Is he always late? Does he think punctuality is for losers?

A golf cart turns into the driveway and I rush to the front door.

“Where are you going?”

Mercury’s question has me whirling around.

“I told you. I have a date.”

He glowers. “Your young man will come inside to pick you up. You don’t go running out the second he arrives.”

Is he worried I appear eager? I’m not eager. This isn’t a real date.

Except I’m tapping my toes and inching toward the door. Shit. I am eager. I want to see Gibson.

Hold your horsepower, Mercy. This is fake, remember? And I’m on a break from men. Because I can’t make good decisions when it comes to them.

“A man should treat a woman properly by coming to the door to pick her up,” Mercury says.

I giggle. My uncle doesn’t live in the now.

“Men don’t come to the door anymore.”

He harrumphs. “They should. Having manners isn’t old-fashioned.”

He’s got me there.

Knock! Knock!

Apparently while I’ve been getting a lecture on manners, Gibson has arrived. I inhale a deep breath and force myself to stroll to the door. I am not eager to lay my eyes on the rockstar’s gorgeous face. Not this girl.

“Hi,” Gibson smiles and my body immediately leans toward him. The stubble on his chin is now a beard. I want to run my nails over it and watch how he responds.

“Hi.” My voice comes out all breathy. I clear my throat and try again. “Hi.”

“Good evening, young man,” Mercury greets.

Gibson’s smile widens. “Good evening, Mercury.”

“Ready?” I don’t wait for his answer and step forward forcing him to retreat from the door.

Gibson chuckles. “What’s the rush?”

I grab his hand and lead him down the stairs to the golfcart. “I fear Uncle Mercury is gearing up to give a lecture on manners in modern day.”

“Mercury is a hoot.”

We sit in the golfcart and he starts driving us toward town.

“Easy for you to say. You don’t live with him. The amount of time the man can spend in the bathroom is epic. And I lived through the great poop incident of 2020.”

“The great poop incident of 2020?”

I feel my face heat. Zeke always teased me for using the term poop incident. But when I glance over at Gibson, he appears intrigued. Of course, Gibson isn’t my real boyfriend the way Zeke was. Although, is a man really your boyfriend when he’s sleeping with every woman within the city limits?

“My ex got salmonella poisoning from eating Chinese takeout. I told him not to order from the place. The restaurant was always a complete mess. Dirty with broken chairs piled in the corner. And the floor?” I do an exaggerated shiver.

“But would he listen to me?” I roll my eyes. “Of course not.”

“And thus the great poop incident of 2020.”

I nod. “He had diarrhea for a week. It was…”

“I get it. There’s only one toilet on the tour bus and five of us. Anytime we order spicy takeout…” He trails off with a mock shiver.

“I cannot imagine living in such close quarters with four other people.”

“You don’t have any siblings?”

“Nope. It’s just me and my mom.”

We stop in front of a building and I read the sign Naked Falls Brewing. I frown. Is our date at a brewery? I don’t drink and he’s not supposed to be drinking. The brewery isn’t the best choice.

“Um…”

“There aren’t any other places in town to eat besides the diner and the brewery,” he explains. “And the diner closes early.”

“Okay,” I give in since he does have a point.

He hurries around the cart and offers me his hand. “Shall we?”

I stare at his hand for a long moment. I should probably avoid touching him since every time we touch I’m tempted to touch him more. Maybe throw myself at him. And I’ve never been good at resisting temptation.

I grasp his hand and electricity hits me with a whoosh. I nearly stumble but Gibson tightens his hold on my hand to steady me.

“I didn’t expect you,” he murmurs.

“Expect me? You’re the one who asked me out.”

“Never mind.” He clears his throat. “Shall we?”

I study the brewery as we enter. It has an industrial vibe. The walls are exposed brick and the large ducts are painted a matte black. This place is totally my style.

“You made it,” the host greets us.

I glance behind us. He can’t mean us.

Gibson frowns. “This is Elder. He’s Cash’s half-brother.”

I wave. “I’m Mercy.”

Elder waggles his eyebrows. “Are you going to have mercy on poor Gibson?”

I roll my eyes. “Good one. I’ve never heard it before.”

He chuckles as he leads us up the stairs to a booth in the corner. “This is our date table.”

I wait until he’s gone before leaning over the table and hissing at Gibson. “Did you tell everyone we’re on a date?”

His cheeks darken. “My bandmates know since I’m trying to convince them this is real.”

Oh yeah. I forgot this isn’t real for a minute. Head back in the game, Mercy. You’re not falling for another bad boy. Remember how the last one stole all your money?

“I got a job today,” I blurt out. Way to be smooth, Mercy.

He lifts his eyebrow. “You did? I thought you were leaving town as soon as Mercury moves into a home.”

“I’ve got nowhere else I need to be.” My cheeks warm. Could I be more of a loser?

“Fair enough,” he says and relief fills me. “What’s the job?”

“I’m a mechanic and I—”

“Hold on,” Gibson cuts me off. “You’re a mechanic?” I nod. “A car mechanic?”

“Is there any other kind?” My brow wrinkles. “Are you one of those men who think women can’t be mechanics?”

He holds up his hand. “No way. Some of our best roadies are women.”

“What does a roadie do anyway?”

“Set up and dismantle the stage, take care of the instruments and sound and lighting equipment before and after a show.”

“Wow. I didn’t realize how tough a roadie job is.”

“Yeah, we…” He trails off with a scowl.

“What’s wrong?”

He points across the restaurant. I follow his gaze. His bandmates are sitting down at a table on the other side of the room.

“What are they doing here?”

He purses his lips. “They’re here to check on me.”

Before I can ask him any further questions, the waitress arrives. “What can I get you?”

“Burger and a beer.”

I clear my throat. “A beer?”

“It’s just one beer.”

It always starts with one beer. Or one shot. Or one glass. Spoiler alert: It never stops at one.

“Burger and a coke,” I tell the waitress since I don’t want her to hear about our ‘deal’.

I wait for her to cross the room before I lean forward to hiss at Gibson, “You promised not to drink.”

He waves away my concern. “It’s one beer.”

I frown. “You don’t get it. It always starts with one beer. It never ends that way.”

“What’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal?” I repeat.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “What’s the big deal?”

My anger flares and I forget all about being quiet and putting on a stupid show for his bandmates.

“The big deal is I grew up with an alcoholic mother. Do you have any idea how it feels to be ten and come home from school to clean up your mother’s vomit? Or wake up in the middle of the night to check her breathing to make sure she’s just passed out and isn’t dead?

How it feels for your mom to promise she’ll quit time and time again? She’s doing good so you bring your friends home to hang out only to discover you mom passed out in her own pee and poop in the living room. And if all those things weren’t bad enough, how about the time you bring home a boyfriend and your mom strips off her clothes and tries to seduce him?”

I’m gasping for breath by the time I finish. Gibson reaches across the table for my hand but I shove him away and stand.

“This is over.”

I start toward the stairs but he blocks me. “We made a deal.”

“And you broke it,” I hiss at him.

He squeezes my shoulder. “I won’t drink the beer.”

I raise an eyebrow. I’m supposed to believe this crap?

“I’ll send it back. I promise.”

“I don’t know you well enough to believe your promises.”

“Let’s take it day by day,” he pleas.

Well, crap. I never can resist a man who begs.

“I don’t know,” I hedge.

“You want your uncle in a nursing home, don’t you?”

Damnit. I forgot all about Mercury. He really does need a nursing home. I can’t care for him round the clock. Especially now that I have a job.

Gibson leans closer. “My bandmates are watching us.”

Another thing I forgot about.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

What? We didn’t agree on any physical contact. Before I have a chance to protest, his mouth meets mine. I expect a quick peck, a brief meeting of the lips.

Instead, Gibson nips at my bottom lip. “Let me in, sassy girl.”

“I—”

The second I open my mouth to respond, he takes advantage. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth. His taste of musk with a hint of mint hits me and I’m lost. I moan and he deepens the kiss. I grasp hold of his waist and haul him to me while his hands thread through my hair.

I feel his manhood lengthen and harden against my stomach and my panties dampen in response. I want to throw him down on the floor and have my wicked way with him. Disrobe him and discover all of his tattoos. Touch his naked skin with my hands and my mouth.

Clapping breaks out behind us and I startle. I forgot we weren’t alone.

“You’re trouble,” Gibson murmurs against my lips.

“Right back atcha.”

I am in so much trouble. I could barely keep my hands off Gibson before. But now that I’ve tasted him and felt his hands in my hair, I don’t know how I’ll resist him.

Like I said. Trouble.