2. Kayla
2 KAYLA
I walked across the parking lot of the medical center, feeling a little giddy. Okay, more than a little giddy. I met Lancaster! Fine, I didn’t technically meet him, but I spent time in a very small room with him. I put my hand on his chest—his very sculpted chest—and I made him laugh. I talked to Lancaster! It was surreal, and I was still buzzing from that handshake—pitiful, I know—as I made my way home.
There was one person I could call who would totally understand my fangirling. “Torey, I just met your rockstar bestie.”
There was a long silence before Torey squealed. “Oh shit, girl, did you freak out?”
“Inside? Absolutely.” I laughed, blushing with embarrassment in my car. “But on the outside, I was a smooth medical professional. He brought Edith in.” I shared as much as I could without breaking any confidentiality. “How does he know Edith?”
“As far as I know, he doesn’t.” It was crazy to think that he and Torey were such close friends that they texted and talked, even when he wasn’t in Holiday Grove. “Are you crushing on him?”
Maybe a little. “Nope. But goodness, he’s even more delicious in person.”
“I know, it’s ridiculous, right?” Torey laughed. “He’s arrogant, but he’s also charming and sweet, so go easy on him, Doc.”
“Me? I doubt I’ll even see him with how much I’ve been working, so it’s not a problem.” Holiday Grove was a small town, but it wasn’t that small; at least I didn’t remember it being so.
“We’ll see,” she hummed. “Anyway, I need to get ready for my call with Ryan. Let’s talk again soon.”
“Okay. Good night.” Being back in Holiday Grove was nice. This place was home. I knew every inch of this town, and even with the additions of new businesses like Nix’s bakery and the new pizza shop, I knew it like the back of my hand. I loved all the holiday-themed businesses and streets, and all the wacky ways we managed to celebrate every little thing.
I hooked a left onto May Day Lane and felt my shoulders start to relax. I rented a two-bedroom modern ranch home because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do yet. I didn’t have much in the way of student loans; being a nerdy girl had one definite upside—scholarships—but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to buy a home yet.
I pulled into the driveway instead of the garage since it was early March and the days were getting warmer, then dragged my exhausted body into the house, where I kicked off my shoes and hung my bag on the rack beside the door. My growling stomach had me rushing to the kitchen to see what there was to eat. The answer was simple.
Nothing.
“Okay, shower first and then food.” My room was located on the left side of the house, which was perfect because the rental was empty. I flicked on my bedroom light, undressed quickly, and enjoyed a long hot shower to wash away the day. I loved being a doctor and working in emergency medicine, which required me to think fast to make life-saving choices. But I did not like wearing other people’s fluids on my body.
At least not from my patients.
Inappropriate, Kayla.
Even the word inappropriate had me thinking about the hottest man I’d ever seen in real life. Mac Lancaster was as hot as they came, all long, lean limbs covered in muscles and ink. My hand slid down my soapy body, heading right between my thighs.
“No. Nope, not happening.” I shook my head and focused on washing my body and my hair instead of the gorgeous rock star. I was still tired, but the shower left me feeling refreshed. And still hungry.
Really, really hungry.
I dressed in pajamas because it was after ten o’clock, and I planned to curl up with a good book or a show before falling asleep until it was time to do it all again tomorrow. “Food first.” I grabbed my phone and made my way to the kitchen for a glass of red wine while I placed an order at All Saints Pizza.
By the time the knock sounded on my door, my stomach growled louder than the television, and I rushed to get my late-night dinner. “Thanks.” I shut the door and hurried to the kitchen, eager to get a slice of cheese and veggie pizza into my belly. But it wasn’t cheese and veggie; it was a meat lover's pizza. With wings, not salad. “Oh come on!”
I grabbed the receipt taped to the box and groaned at the name, Mac and the address was next door’s, which had to be a mistake because the house next door was empty.
I stared at the pizza for far too long, contemplating just eating it anyway, when there was another knock on the door.
I hurried back to the front door, hoping the delivery driver realized his mistake. Except it wasn’t the pizza delivery kid; it was the gorgeous rock star from earlier.
“Oh, um, what are you doing here?” I looked down at my moon and star pajama shorts that showed off thighs that were a little too thick, and the shirt revealed nearly perfect cleavage and a strip of belly that reminded me that I needed to drop a few pounds.
“Imagine my surprise when I opened my meat lover’s pizza to find cheese pizza. And salad.” His mouth parted into a panty-melting grin. “And to find out that my new neighbor is the hot ER doctor from earlier.”
Hot? Surely not. I was cute, some days pretty, but never, ever hot. Lancaster was my new neighbor. How was that possible? “You rented the house next door.” It wasn’t a question.
“I did.” When I didn’t respond, he frowned. “Did you already eat my pizza and wings?”
I laughed and shook my head before I stepped back and invited him in. “No, but I was seriously contemplating it when you knocked on the door.” There was no point in pretending I was one of those women who didn’t eat when my body clearly showed that I did.
“Then I showed up at the perfect time.” His voice sounded behind me, too close, and I suppressed a shiver.
As soon as we were in the kitchen, Mac dove for a slice of pizza.
I watched him in awe, not because he was famous, but because he was so easy on the eyes that it was impossible to look away. His jeans hung low on his lean hips, and his t-shirt gripped his biceps and hugged the abs he clearly worked hard for. Or maybe it was genetics. “You don’t eat like that all the time, do you?” If he did, I might have to hate him on principle.
His eyes danced, and his mouth parted in a grin while he chewed his pizza. “Not always, but my tour just ended, so I’m technically off the clock.” He grabbed another slice. “And pizza is literally the perfect food.”
“Agreed.” The scent of pizza hit my nose, and I moved toward the countertop and opened my box. “You can stay if you want.”
His expression brightened. “I’d love to.”
I grabbed another glass and the bottle of wine before I took a seat at the small kitchen table. It was surreal, eating dinner with Lancaster, who I now knew as Mac. It was uncomfortable, and I felt self-conscious but too hungry to stop eating. Still, I couldn’t just sit here without saying anything. Right? Of course not, that would be weird, Kayla. Right. Weird. “How was the tour?”
He brightened again. “It was amazing, thanks. To hear people singing my lyrics all over the world? Such a rush.”
“I can’t even imagine.” The way he lit up when he spoke about it was really endearing. And sexy. “Was this your first world tour?”
I flashed a fake pout. “Are you saying you’re not a fan?”
I laughed. “I’m a fan. I love your music, but I’ve been busy the past few years, so I just listen to your music, not follow you on Instagram.”
“That only makes me like you more.”
I felt my cheeks blush, and I cursed my skin for not being darker.
“You can ask me.”
I frowned. “Ask you what?”
“Whatever it is that you want to ask.” His tone and expression were both guarded, as if he thought I might ask something too intimate.
I shrugged and kept my gaze on his. “Nothing in particular, honestly; mostly I’m just adjusting to having you here in my space. That’s all.” And the effect his body was having on me.
“I know what you mean,” he laughed and opened the box of wings. “I didn’t know they made doctors this hot outside of a Hollywood set.”
Another blush crept up—dammit. “You’re more charming than I expected you to be, especially considering that face.” Oh my god, did I seriously just say that?
Mac’s brows shot up. “You like my face?”
Hell yes, can I sit on it? I shrugged casually. “It’s a really nice face, and we both know it,” I answered, rolling my eyes. “Fishing for compliments?”
“Always. Don’t you know I’m a sensitive artist?” Mischief sparkled in his green eyes. “You like my face, but what about my voice?” The humor dimmed slightly, but just enough that I noticed.
“Your voice is really good,” I assured him. “But your guitar playing is perfect. Together, I really enjoy them.” The truth was, if he weren’t so hot, I’d just close my eyes and listen to his album instead of the playlist of his performances on YouTube.