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

5. Five

Five

Emily

The bus is quieter than usual; the hum of the road and Vince’s faint guitar strumming are the only sounds. Most of the guys are in their bunks, catching up on sleep after the show and media storm in Nashville, but I can’t seem to wind down. My tablet sits untouched on the table in front of me.

I take a sip of water, trying to focus on the list of tasks I need to tackle before we arrive back home. But my mind drifts, unbidden, to a memory I’ve worked hard to bury.

It was years ago, not long after Cass invited me to tag along on the band’s first big tour. I was fresh out of school, starry-eyed and naive, eager to prove that I wasn’t just Cass’s little sister.

And there was Sam.

He was charming and magnetic in that effortless way of his. I’d had a crush on him before we even met, thanks to the countless stories Cass told me about his best friend. That and because he’s freaking gorgeous. But the moment Sam smiled at me for the first time, it felt like a bolt of lightning hit me.

That night, after a show in Austin, I found myself alone with him in the green room. A small buffet of baked goods was set up for the band. Standing by the buffet, I had just picked up a cupcake to eat. It was white with sprinkles. He was leaning against the door with a lazy grin as he asked me what I thought of the set.

“You were great,” I said, my voice shy but sincere, trying not to stare at his good looks.

His grin widened, and he stepped closer. “You’re not so bad yourself, Cupcake.”

The nickname had made me laugh then, not knowing it would one day feel like a jab.

I don’t remember what we talked about after that. All I remember is the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world. And then, before I knew what was happening—he kissed me.

It wasn’t a soft, tentative kiss like I’d gotten from high school boys. His kiss wasn't gentle—it was claiming, desperate, like he'd been holding back for too long. His hands were everywhere, setting my skin on fire, and when his palm cupped my breast, electricity shot through my body. I remember the heat of him pressed against me, how perfectly we fit together, and the way his muscles felt under my exploring fingers. His arousal was hard against my stomach, and the knowledge that I affected him so strongly made me dizzy with want.

But then he abruptly pulled away.

The shift was immediate, his warmth replaced by a coldness that felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me. 'We can't do this,' he grumbled, his voice low and firm.

I remember blinking up at him, confused and hurt by his rejection. “Why not?”

He looked away, his jaw tight. “Because you’re Cass’s baby sister. This can’t happen.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the green room, feeling utterly exposed and my confidence shattered by his rejection.

I shake off the memory, setting my water bottle down a little harder than I intended. I’d spent months trying to make sense of that night, blaming myself for being too young or naive—too innocent. But I’m not that foolish girl anymore. I give a soundless laugh. No, now, I’m older but wiser? That’s debatable. The remembrance of that encounter is what made me dare Sam on that unforgettable night in Vegas. So, no. I’m still that foolish girl.

But Sam Ryder doesn’t get to toy with my emotions. Not again.

We’re finally back home the next day, and rehearsal is in full swing. Nate’s drums are set up in one corner, Luke is fiddling with the keyboard, and Cass is fine-tuning the setlist with Vince.

Meanwhile, Sam is sprawled across the couch, long legs stretched out carelessly, his fingers moving expertly over the guitar strings as he plucks out an old Elvis tune, an unreadable look on his face. I try not to stare at those hands or remember how they felt on my skin that fateful night, but my body betrays me with a shiver. He looks up, catching me watching him, and something dark and hungry flashes in his eyes before he looks away.

I straighten, determined to focus on the logistics for tomorrow’s show. But the noise level is suddenly unbearable, and my patience is wearing thin.

“Guys,” I call out, raising my voice to be heard over the racket. “Can we focus, please? We’re running out of time.”

Nate stops drumming long enough to give me a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Boss Lady.”

The nickname, which had grated on my nerves initially, has started to grow on me—except when Sam uses it.

Speaking of, he looks up from his guitar, his grin firmly in place. “Relax, Em. We’ve got this.”

I frown at him. “This isn’t just about you, Sam. We’re a team, remember?”

“Sure,” he says, his tone annoyingly casual. “But the team works better when the manager doesn’t have a stick up her—”

“Sam,” Cass interrupts, his voice sharp. “Enough.”

I glance at my brother, surprised by the edge in his tone. He doesn’t usually step in when Sam and I bicker, but there’s something about his expression that makes me think he’s genuinely annoyed.

Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, but there’s no mistaking the tension in his jaw. As if he already regrets his hurtful words.

“Thank you,” I say, directing my comment to Cass but letting my gaze linger on Sam.

For the rest of the rehearsal, Sam is uncharacteristically quiet, focusing entirely on his guitar. It’s a side of him I don’t see often—dedicated, serious, almost wistful.

It bothers me, and I find myself watching him more than I should, wondering how many other layers he’s been hiding all this time. Kendrick mentioned once that Sam seemed always to be aware of his surroundings–that he’s always accessing things. But I don’t see him that way. To me, he seems to treat everything like one big joke.

Near the end of the day, I retreat to the small kitchenette Cass insisted we have in the office to pour over the next day’s itinerary.

“You still working?”

I glance up to see Sam slouched against the counter, a bottle of water in his hand.

“Somebody has to,” I reply, my tone sharper than necessary.

He raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of water. “You ever take a break?”

“Do you ever take anything seriously?”

He chuckles, setting the bottle down. “Touché.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks, each trying to hide our simmering attraction. The silence stretching tautly.

“Emily,” he says finally, his voice quieter than usual, “I probably shouldn’t tell you, but—you’re good at this. You’re a better manager than Derrick ever was.”

I look up, caught off guard by his tone. “Thank you, I think?” I say, my voice wary.

He shrugs, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something that makes my chest tighten.

“Why are you always like this?” I ask, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

“Like what?”

“Like, you’re afraid to let anyone see you have a serious side?”

He blinks, clearly not expecting that. “Maybe I’m just a complicated guy,” he says after a moment, his tone light but his expression anything but.

“Possibly,” I say, my gaze locking on his. “Or maybe you just like keeping people at arm’s length.”

His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “And what about you, Boss Lady? You keep people at arm’s length, too, don’t you?”

I bristle at the accusation, but before I can respond, he steps closer, and suddenly the small space feels electric. His cologne wraps around me—that familiar blend of sandalwood and pure male that haunts my dreams. When his gaze drops to my lips, heat pools low in my belly. I can feel the warmth radiating from his body, see the slight stubble on his jaw that I once felt scraping against my neck, my breasts, my inner thighs—

"Emily," he breathes, and the way he says my name sends shivers down my spine. He's close enough now that I can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, close enough that one small movement would bring his lips to mine. My body remembers exactly how those lips felt, trailing fire across my skin, and I have to grip the counter to keep from reaching for him.

And then, just as his lips are inches from mine, the door swings open.

“Hey, Sam, you—” Nate stops mid-sentence, his eyes darting between us. “Uh, am I interrupting something?”

“No,” I say quickly, stepping back. “We were just... talking.”

Sam’s lips twist into a grin, but there’s a hint of frustration in his eyes as he turns to Nate. “What’s up?”

Nate mumbles something about his drums, and the two disappear, leaving me alone in the kitchenette with my heart still racing.

I sink into the nearest chair, pressing a hand to my throat as I try to calm down.

Sam Ryder. That man will be the death of me.

I try to focus on the itinerary in front of me, but my mind keeps replaying the moment before Nate walked in. The way Sam looked at me and leaned in like he was about to kiss me. My skin still tingles from the intensity of it all, and I don’t know whether to be furious or disappointed that it didn’t happen.

I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t notice the voices at first. It’s only when I hear my name that I freeze, my ears straining to pick up the conversation coming from the other room.

“You want to tell me what your problem is with Emily?” Cass’s voice is low but firm, the tone he uses when he’s not in the mood for games.

I stand up quietly, moving closer to the door separating the kitchenette from the office area. I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but curiosity gets the better of me.

“I don’t have a problem with her,” Sam says, his tone defensive.

Cass snorts. “Could’ve fooled me. You’ve been on her case ever since she took over as manager. I mean, the nicknames alone—Cupcake. Boss Lady? Really?”

“Yeah, she hates that name,” Sam mutters, almost like he’s talking to himself.

“Exactly my point,” Cass says. “Why do you go out of your way to antagonize her?”

There’s a long pause, and I press myself against the wall, holding my breath.

“It’s not like that,” Sam says finally, his voice quieter now.

“Then what is it?” Cass presses. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve got some unresolved feelings going on here.”

Unresolved feelings? My heart pounds, and I press my hand to my chest to quiet the erratic rhythm. No. Cass must have it wrong. Right?

Sam laughs, but it’s humorless. “You’re reading too much into it, Cass.”

“Am I?” Cass challenges. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re attracted to my sister.”

There’s another long silence, and I bite my lip, willing Sam to say something, anything, that will clue me in on how he feels about me. But when he finally speaks, his voice is softer, almost resigned.

“I’m not—” he begins, then shifts gears, “I just... I don’t know what to do about her.”

Cass laughs a short, surprised sound. “What the hell does that mean? Listen, Emily’s the most straightforward person I know. She’s driven but upbeat, and yeah, she’s a little bossy, but she’s also loyal to a fault. What’s so bad about that?”

“You don’t get it,” Sam says, and there’s something in his voice that makes my stomach twist. “She has a way of getting under my skin. It throws me off balance.”

My breath catches, and I slap a hand over my mouth to keep from making a sound. Did he just say—? No, I must’ve misheard. Sam Ryder doesn’t get thrown off balance. Not by me.

“Emily?” Cass repeats, his tone laced with disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious.” Sam lets out a bitter laugh. “She’s everything I can’t have–everything I’m not. She’s your sister, man. There are rules about this kind of thing.”

Cass doesn’t respond right away, and the silence stretches out so long that I start to wonder if they’ve moved on to another topic. But then I hear him sigh.

“Sam,” he says, his voice softer now. “You’re not doing anyone any favors by playing games with her. If you care about her, stop messing around. Either tell her how you feel or leave her alone. But this in-between shit? It’s not fair, not to her and not to you. And that part about her being my sister—she’s a big girl. Just don’t ever hurt her.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, and after a moment, I hear footsteps heading toward the kitchenette. I dart back to the table, grabbing my tablet and pretending to scroll through the itinerary just as Cass walks in.

He stops when he sees me, his brows knitting together. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” I say, forcing a smile. “Just going over some last-minute details for tomorrow.”

He studies me for a moment longer, then nods. “All right. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

“I won’t,” I promise, watching as he disappears down the hall.

The second he’s gone, I let out a shaky breath, my thoughts swirling. Sam’s words keep playing in my head, the memory of them settling deep in my chest.

She’s everything I can’t have.

What am I supposed to do with that?