Chapter 3
Shoebox – an item slightly smaller than Aurora’s apartment
Aurora
W e stop in front of my apartment building. Here goes nothing. Jett is going to have a hissy fit when he realizes where he’s staying. But I can’t have him being interrupted by screaming fans when he has a concussion. He needs peace and quiet. And it’s my job to give it to him.
Stan, the security guard, jumps out of the passenger seat and opens the door.
“Let’s go,” I order Jett when he doesn’t move.
“This isn’t a posh hotel,” he mutters as he steps out of the car and scans the area.
There aren’t any posh hotels in my neighborhood. It’s not a horrible neighborhood per se. But it’s certainly not posh by Jett’s standards.
“Nope. It’s my apartment,” I say as I follow him out of the car.
Stan escorts us into the building and up to my apartment. I unlock the door for him and he checks there are no randy fans waiting to jump out from behind my Ficus plant.
“You’re good, Ms. Sharpe.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve told you to call me Aurora a million times.”
“Old habits die hard, ma’am.”
I slap his shoulder. “And now you’re making me feel old.”
Jett growls behind me. Stan clears his throat. “I’ll be patrolling the building and grounds.”
He nods to Jett before leaving the apartment. And now Jett and I are all alone.
All alone in my apartment where there’s a bed. My stomach dips and excitement rushes through me at the idea of Jett in my bed. Of him completely naked and lying there waiting for me.
Speaking of Jett, he hasn’t moved away from the doorway. His nose wrinkles as he scans my apartment.
“This is your home?”
Welp. There’s one surefire way to rid myself of any inappropriate excitement.
I glare at him. “Don’t be an ass.”
“I’m serious, Aurora. Doesn’t Mike pay you?”
I roll my eyes. “Of course, he pays me. I don’t work my ass off for free.”
“Maybe you should ask for a raise.” Says the man who’s tried to get me fired more times than I care to count.
“I earn more than any other of the PAs in the firm.” Because I’m worth it.
“Mike is obviously not using his cut of our royalties to pay his assistants.”
I’m not destitute. I make a decent wage. But San Diego is one of the most expensive cities to live in in the United States. And I still have a ton of debt from grad school. Add one plus one and you end up with an apartment the size of a shoebox.
“Not all of us are rich rockstars who can buy flip-flops that cost more than what some people earn in a month.”
He studies his feet and his brow wrinkles. “They’re flip-flops.”
He has no clue how expensive those flip-flops are. It’s adorable. No. Wait. What am I thinking? It’s not adorable. It’s infuriating. Frustrating. Makes me want to pop his clueless head like a big, fat zit. Pop!
“You can go to a hotel or back home tomorrow. For today, it’s important you have peace and quiet. No fans. No stunts.”
He grimaces. “What else is there to do?”
Me?
Knock it off, Aurora . No one is doing anyone. Rockstars you work for are off limits. Especially rockstars who hate you for unknown reasons.
I hold up the bag of painkillers. “You’ll probably pass out after you take these.”
“I’m not taking any drugs.”
“They’re not recreational drugs. They’re painkillers.”
“Still.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I promised my bandmates I wouldn’t do drugs anymore.”
What is he talking about?
“Oh yeah. The mushroom incident.”
His cheeks flare and he ducks his chin. I wasn’t on the tour bus when Jett decided to try mushrooms, but the story is the stuff of legends. Apparently, he took off all of his clothes and attacked the driver to let him off the bus because it was trying to murder him. I would kill for a video of the incident.
“I don’t think Cash, Dylan, Fender, or Gibson will have a problem if you take some painkillers.”
Cash, Dylan, Fender, and Gibson are the other members of Cash & the Sinners. Usually, the five are as thick as thieves. But Jett obviously doesn’t want them to know he crashed and burned at the surfing competition. I can use this to my advantage.
“Shall I message them to ask what they think?”
“No.” He shakes his head but then grimaces.
He’s obviously in pain and I won’t have it. I dig through the bag of medicines for his pain pills. I remove one before filling a glass with water. I shove the items at Jett. He holds up his hands and backs away.
“I don’t need any painkiller.”
“Liar. Your face is pasty white and you have brackets around your mouth. You’re in pain.”
“I can muddle through it.”
I shake the pill at him. “Take the pill or I’m calling the band.”
“Go ahead.”
How cute. He thinks I’m bluffing. I’m not. I don’t have any problem contacting the band.
Jett may be daring and adventurous but he’s also prone to accidents. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to delay a concert because he broke a bone. And since the band is one big family, they won’t let him forget about his mishaps. No, they’ll rub in his klutziness the way a family does.
My stomach clenches at the idea of family. Something I no longer have. But I ignore the emptiness. I’m used to it by now.
I set the glass and pill on the side table near the door and dig my phone out of my pocket.
“Fine,” Jett growls before snatching the water and swallowing the pill.
“Was that so hard?”
He waggles his eyebrows. “I’ve swallowed worse.”
I barely hold in my eye roll. “What are you? Five-years-old?”
“I’m thirty-one but I can pretend to be younger if it floats your boat.”
I nudge him toward the sofa. “Go sit down and get comfortable.”
He settles on the sofa and glances around. “What do you expect me to do? Watch television?” He nearly gags at the word television.
“What’s wrong with television?”
“It’s boring.”
“If you believe tv is boring, you, my friend, have been watching the wrong shows.” I pick up the remote control. “Be prepared to have your mind blown.”
He snorts. “Unless you’re going to do a strip tease for me, I doubt my mind will be blown.”
My entire body goes up in flames at the idea of doing a strip tease for Jett, but I force the excitement away. Good thing I’m used to ignoring my body’s wants and needs when he’s around.
“I need my pole to perform my act, but it’s gone. The neighbors complained when I blasted I See Red while I practiced.”
I bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing when he visibly gulps. “You have a pole?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
He holds out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
“No. You have your own phone.”
“I can’t exactly order a stripper pole to be delivered to your house with my phone.”
“As if you can get a workman out here to install a pole within a day.”
“Damn,” he mutters. “You owe me.”
I plop down next to him and switch on the television. “Which is why I’m going to introduce you to Thomas Shelby.”
“Who’s Thomas Shelby?”
“Duh. The leader of the Peaky Blinders.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Be nice and I’ll start the show at the beginning for you.”
“I’m always nice,” he says in a deep voice and those flames return to heat my body from the inside out.
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow. “Do I need to remind you of the time the police wanted to arrest you because you wouldn’t stop mouthing off at them?”
“It was a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding? You didn’t mean to tell the officer to stick his baton up his ass and fuck himself with it?”
“He was harassing a woman. He wanted to arrest her without any evidence because of the color of her skin.”
I frown. I hadn’t heard this part of the story.
“And when I asked him politely to explain what his probable cause was to search her car, he said I was an asshole and told me to mind my own business.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all of this? I could have had the incident investigated.”
He shrugs and glances away but not before I notice the blush on his cheeks. Is he embarrassed about being kind? No one should be embarrassed about doing a good deed.
I change the channel to my favorite streaming station. Jett groans.
“Behave and I’ll order take-out from the Mexican place you like.”
He perks up. “The one the rest of the band won’t let me order from?”
“As long as you promise to stay out of the master bathroom.”
He holds out his hand. “You have a deal.”
I shake his hand and sparks ignite when his calloused hand touches mine. I inhale a deep breath and force thoughts of how those calloused hands would feel roaming over my body out of my mind.
“You’re not so bad, Aurora Sharpe.” He winks. “This might be the beginning of a wonderful friendship.”
“As long as you don’t expect me to kick women out of your hotel room for you.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “What about men?”
I throw a pillow at him. “You’re bad, Jett Peterson.”
“Being bad is fun. You should try it sometime.”
Would it be bad to throw myself at him? My body tingles and my stomach flips at how bad we could be.
Off limits, Aurora. Off. Limits .