Rockstar’s Accidental Marriage (Wild Band Rockstars #2)

4. Four

Four

Sam

The hum of the engine vibrates through the bus as we pull out of Jacksonville, heading toward Atlanta. The usual pre-tour excitement hums in the air, but my focus keeps shifting to the person sitting stiffly in the farthest corner of the couch—Emily, my wife.

She looks completely out of place. Too polished, too prim. She’s perched on the edge of her seat, pretending to focus on her tablet, but I can see the tension in her posture and the way her fingers hover over the screen without actually typing.

Leaning toward her, I ask casually, “Comfortable, Boss Lady?”

Her eyes snap up to meet mine, and she glares, which only makes me grin wider.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t call me that,” she says, her voice clipped.

“Nope, that’s not how I remember it,” I correct, leaning back in my seat and propping my feet arrogantly on the table between us. “You sure you’re up for this? The band bus isn’t exactly your style.”

“I’m fine,” she snaps, her tone daring me to challenge her.

I raise an eyebrow, letting my gaze drift to the pile of duffel bags and stray snack wrappers littering the floor. “You sure? Because it’s not too late to switch to the family bus. Cass would love to have you, and honestly, it’d be easier on all of us.” Especially me, I think silently.

Her eyes narrow, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.

“I don’t need your advice, Sam,” she says tightly. “I’m here to do my job, and I can do it just fine without your input.”

“Suit yourself,” I say with a shrug, though the thought of her sleeping in this bus just a few feet from me for the next week has my libido reacting in a way I’d rather not think about.

By the time we hit the highway, the bus feels even smaller than usual. Vince’s sprawled across one of the couches, strumming his guitar, while Luke and Nate argue over which fast-food place we should hit for lunch. Emily stays rooted in her corner, her back ramrod straight as she scrolls through her tablet, dismissing everything else.

I try to ignore her, but it’s impossible. Every time I glance her way, I’m reminded of that night in Vegas, how she looked at me when we said our 'I do’s', and later in bed…

And now, here we are, secretly married for a year, though she’d rather die than acknowledge it. Her light floral scent has been driving me crazy since she stepped onto the bus. She's all shapely legs and rigid posture, and I can't decide if I want to push her as far away as possible or pull her closer until she melts against me like she did that night in Vegas. The memory of how she felt beneath me, all soft curves and desperate sighs, hits me like a physical blow. I shift in my seat, grateful no one can read my thoughts.

We stop at a gas station just outside Atlanta, and everyone piles out, stretching their legs. Emily stays on the bus, probably hoping for peace and quiet, but I can’t resist the urge to check on her.

“Not joining us?” I ask, leaning against the doorway.

She glances up, her expression guarded. “No, I have work to do.”

I step inside, letting the door close behind me. The bus feels smaller with just the two of us inside. Her sweet scent fills the confined space, and watching her try to maintain her composure does something to me. Her silk blouse clings to her curves, and I remember all too well what's underneath. When she glares at me, her cheeks flush with irritation. It takes everything in me not to close the distance between us to see if she still tastes as sweet as she did that night.

“Come on, Em. Live a little. We’ve got a solid fifteen minutes here before Luke finishes buying snacks.”

“I’m fine here,” she says, her voice curt.

I take a step closer, crossing my arms. “You’re miserable, why won’t you admit it?”

Her eyes flash, and she sets her tablet down with too much force. “I’m not miserable, Sam. I’m adjusting.”

“Adjusting to what? Sharing a bathroom with four guys who consider showering optional?”

Her nose wrinkles, and I know I’ve hit the mark.

“I can handle it,” she insists, lifting her chin.

I laugh, the sound echoing in the small space. “Damn, but you’re stubborn, I’ll give you that.”

“And you’re infuriating,” she snaps back.

Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the air between us sizzles, heavy with something neither of us wants to name or admit to.

“Sam!” Vince’s voice cuts through the tension, and I step back, breaking the moment.

“Coming!” I call out, glancing at Emily one last time before heading out.

Our first show in Atlanta goes off without a hitch. The crowd’s electric, the band is on fire, and Cass is in his element, pouring his heart into every note. Watching him reminds me why I love this life—the music, the energy, the connection with the fans.

As the night winds down, my attention again drifts to his sister. She's standing off to the side of the stage, and even under the harsh lights, she's breathtaking. Her pencil skirt hugs every curve, and when she bends to check something on her clipboard, I nearly miss a chord.

I’m totally mesmerized and can’t look away. The memory of those legs wrapped around my waist flashes through my mind, and I have to force myself to focus on the music instead of how badly I want to feel them there again.

When the show ends, the band heads backstage, and I find myself lingering near her, unable to resist the pull.

“Not bad for our first night, huh?” I question, approaching her.

She nods, her gaze still on the stage. “It was... good.”

“Just good?” I ask arrogantly.

She glances at me, her lips twitching like she’s fighting a smile. “Fine. It was really good. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” I say, flashing her a grin.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t move away, and for a moment, it feels like we’re not at odds, like we’re just two people sharing a pleasurable moment.

But then Luke walks by, clapping me on the shoulder, and the spell is broken. Emily stiffens, stepping hastily back, and I know she’s already retreating behind her walls.

The drive to Nashville is even worse than the tour's first leg. Emily’s frustration with the close quarters is starting to show, though she’s too stubborn to admit it.

I should leave her alone. I know that. But something about her gets under my skin in a way I can’t ignore, and it’s not just sexual.

“You know,” I say, plopping down next to her as the bus rolls down the highway, “you’d be more comfortable on your brother’s bus.”

She sighs, pulling out one earbud. “Why do you care where I stay?”

“I don’t,” I say with a shrug. “But Cass does. He’d sleep easier knowing you’re not stuck with us degenerates.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, her tone clipped.

“You keep saying that, but I’m not convinced.”

“What do you want from me, Sam?” She suddenly demands. “Do you want me to confess that I made a colossal mistake? That this bus is a nightmare? Fine. You got it.”

I blink, caught off guard by her outburst. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“Save it,” she says wearily, standing and fleeing to the back of the bus.

The rest of the ride is tense, the air between us thick with tension.

By the time we reach Nashville, I’m convinced that staying away from Emily is the right move. She’s too stubborn, too moody, and too damn distracting for my peace of mind.

But as I watch her expertly handling the show, I can’t help but admire her.

She’s maddening, sure, but she’s also beautiful, sexy, and so captivating that it’s driving me crazy.

And no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to stay away.

Nashville is alive tonight. The crowd is a sea of energy, their voices rising and falling in waves as the band delivers hit after hit. Cass is on fire, his voice raw and powerful as he pours himself into every lyric. The rest of us feed off his energy, driving the music harder and higher until it feels like the arena itself is vibrating.

But even in the middle of all this, my eyes keep returning to the side of the stage. Emily stands there, watching everything like a hawk. She’s all business, as usual, but there’s something different tonight. She’s not just managing. She’s enjoying herself.

As I watch, Emily tilts her head to the side, and her dark hair falls forward—I should be paying attention to my music and the crowd. Instead, my mind drifts to that night in Vegas. Emily was above me, leaning toward me, her hair falling forward. Then I rolled, and I felt the sting of her nails on my back...

“Eyes on the guitar, Romeo,” Luke yells over the music, glancing at me, his tone teasing.

I shake it off, refocusing on the music. The last thing I need is for anyone—especially Emily—to think I’m ogling her.

Cass finishes the current song with a flourish, the crowd roaring in approval. He steps up to the mic, a slow smile spreading across his face as he waits for the noise to settle.

“Thank you, Nashville,” his voice warm and familiar. The crowd erupts again, and he laughs. “You’ve been an incredible audience tonight. But before we wrap things up, I’ve got something special planned,” he says, his words slowing, his tone full of emotion. “Over the last year, my life has changed in ways I never thought possible. I’ve found something more important than fame, more important than the music. I’ve found love and a family.”

I glance at Nate, who raises an eyebrow. None of us knew about this ‘something special.’

“I’ve got a new song for you tonight,” Cass continues, his blue eyes scanning the sea of faces. “It’s slower than my usual stuff—a love ballad, actually. And it’s one I didn’t write alone. I had the best co-writers I could ever ask for: my daughter Cassidy and her mom, Kendrick Cash.”

Cass gestures to the wings, and Kendrick and Cassidy step out onto the stage. The crowd goes wild, their cheers nearly deafening as Cass places a kiss on his daughter’s forehead, and then she waves shyly at the audience. Cass pulls Kendrick closer, and they ease into a slow, melodic song. It’s different from our usual setlist—softer, more intimate—but the audience is completely captivated. Kendrick’s voice joins Cass’s, their harmonies weaving together in a way that’s nothing short of magical.

Even Cassidy sings a line, her voice clear and sweet, and the crowd responds with a wave of applause so loud it gives me goosebumps.

As the final notes fade, Cass steps forward, his guitar slung over his shoulder. “I’ve got one more thing to say,” he announces, his voice carrying over the thunderous applause.

Cass turns to Kendrick. The crowd grows quiet, sensing that something big is about to happen.

He drops to one knee, pulling a small box from his pocket. The arena erupts in cheers, the sound almost drowning out his next words.

“Kendrick,” he says, his voice unwavering. “You’re my everything. You’re the woman who gave back my heart, my family, and a better life. Will you marry me?”

For a split second, the entire world seems to hold its breath. And then Kendrick nods, tears streaming down her face as she pulls him to his feet.

“Yes,” she says, her voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. “Yes, Cass. A thousand times, yes.”

Cass kisses her, and the audience goes wild, their cheers shaking the walls of the arena. Even the band can’t help but get caught up in the moment, clapping and whooping as Cass and Kendrick bask in the glow of their love.

I glance at Emily again, and she looks like she’s on top of the world. Her eyes are bright, her smile radiant, and for once, she doesn’t seem to notice—or care—that I’m watching her.

Backstage, the energy is electric. Everyone’s talking about the proposal, the love song, the way the crowd ate it all up. Cass and Kendrick are surrounded by well-wishers, and Cassidy is bouncing with excitement, her joy obvious.

Emily stands to the side, watching the scene unfold. I sidle up to her, unable to resist.

“Emily,” I say, my tone supportive. “Looks like the fans loved this.”

She glances at me, her smile never faltering. “Of course, they did. I knew they would.”

Crossing her arms, Emily’s gaze shifts back to Cass and Kendrick. “Derrick always said that Cass having a family would ruin his image. That it would make him seem... less rockstar.”

“And you disagreed,” I state quietly, nodding my approval.

“I knew he was wrong,” she says, her voice firm. “Cass isn’t just a rockstar. He’s a man, a father, someone with a story people relate to. The fans don’t just love the music—they love him . And tonight proved that.”

I study her, the way her eyes shine with pride, the way her shoulders are less tense than usual. She’s right, of course. The crowd didn’t just accept Cass’s proposal—they celebrated it.

"This was great, Em," I say, surprising even myself with the sincerity in my voice. She's radiant, her guard down for once, and standing this close to her is dangerous. I can see the pulse point in her neck, remember exactly how it felt under my lips, how she gasped when I—

Her gaze snaps to mine, and for a moment, she looks almost vulnerable. “Thanks,” she says softly.

We stand there in silence, the noise and chaos of the backstage world fading into the background. It’s one of those rare moments where we’re not bickering, not trading jabs, just close.

But, of course, it can’t last.

“Sam!” Vince’s voice cuts through the air, and I turn to see him waving me over.

“Go,” she says, already retreating behind her clipboard. “You’re needed.”

As I walk away, I can’t help but glance back. She’s already immersed in her notes, her expression back to its usual focus.

But for just a second, I let myself wonder what it would be like if she let that wall down completely.

The rest of the night is a whirlwind of celebration. Cass and Kendrick are practically radiating love and contentment. Social media is already lighting up with clips of the ballad and the big moment, and Emily is right there in the thick of it, coordinating with the local PR team to capitalize on the momentum.

By the time we get back to the bus, everyone’s exhausted but happy. Emily heads straight to her corner, her earbuds already in place, and I can’t help but chuckle.

“Night, Boss Lady,” I say as I pass her, just loud enough to make her shake her head.

She doesn’t respond, but I catch the faintest twitch of her lips like she’s fighting a smile.

As I settle into my bunk, I can’t shake the feeling that tonight was a turning point—not just for the band, but for us.

And suddenly, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.