Alpha Daddy Next Door

Chapter One

Kaylie

“This is going to be the only chance you have to do something fun for the first time in your life,” Gayle said, motioning to the stage, raising her voice close to my ear to be heard above the guitar solo. “You need to take off your bra and throw it at him or something!”

“I’m not going to do that.”

Dylan Graves may be the sexiest rock star to grace this earth, but there wasn’t enough money in the world to convince me that taking off my very cute and very expensive lace bra was going to be worth it. The pieces I bought were just for me. A little reward for suffering through med school.

There is no reason to waste it on a man who had women throwing themselves at him. The same kind of man who likely wouldn’t give me a second look.

Gayle sighs and bounces on the balls of her feet, shifting herself from one side to the other in time with the music. “You used to be more fun.”

“I’m your older sister. I’m not supposed to be fun.” I smirk and loop my arm around her waist, pulling her close as we belt out the final lyrics to the song together.

Strobe lights swirl and the scent of sloshing beer is thick in the air. I feel lightheaded from all the dancing and my stomach is growling.

“I need carbs to soak up the liquor!” Gayle declares, already taking my hand and pulling me toward the door. “And since you have no intention of getting laid tonight, pizza is calling our names.”

Laughing, I follow her out of the bar and down the street to one of our favorite Neapolitan style pizza places. The second the door opens, the scent of cheese and some of the best marinara I’ve ever had wafts over to me.

My stomach growls as I slide into a booth while Gayle goes to order our food. My mouth is watering as she brings the beers back to the table, stopping when the bell sounds above the door.

Her mouth drops open before snapping shut as she slides down across from me. “You’re never going to believe who walked in just now.”

“Someone hungry after the concert who wants a pizza?” I crack the top off the bottle of beer, taking a swig before setting it to the side.

She leans closer to me across the table. “Dylan Graves.”

Sure enough, as she whispers his name, the lead singer and guitarist of Robbing Graves walks by, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his ripped jeans and his dark hair long and loose.

It’s the kind of hair that I would be jealous of if I wasn’t so busy lusting over the man sporting it.

Dylan approaches the counter with the air of a man who doesn’t want to be seen, so I pull out my phone, scrolling through the endless messages in the group chat I have with several doctors I’m going through residency with.

“Enough looking through messages and trying to pretend like this isn’t the best night of your life.”

I tuck the phone away with a sigh. “I know it should feel that way, but it feels like just another night. I still have no clue what I’m supposed to do with my life next. I thought that with everything lined up and in place, I would feel better, but I don’t.”

“That’s because you worry too much.”

“And you don’t worry enough.” I study her for a second, looking for the signs I used to see. The hollow cheeks and dark circles beneath her eyes. It’s been over ten years, but I can’t shake the dark cloud that still lingers over us.

She shrugs. “I spent enough years worrying when I was younger. I’m twenty-three now. It’s time to have fun and live a good life, and you should too.”

“I’m trying.”

“Then we’re going to focus on the good and you’re going to stop worrying about what comes next.”

“And what’s the good?”

“Your residency is done this week,” Gayle says, leaning forward and taking my hand. She gives it a squeeze before letting it go and leaning back in her seat. “I can’t believe that after all the work you put in, you’re finally going to be done with all of that and off on the next adventure.”

“You make it sound like I’m going to travel the world. I’m just going to be working at a hospital full time now without someone breathing down the back of my neck.”

Gayle rolls her eyes. “You could spend the rest of your life with some higher up doctor breathing down the back of your neck. You’re in family medicine. You’re going to be dealing with people constantly.”

“I like people.” I take another sip of the beer, gaze flickering back over to Dylan as he approaches the counter to place an order. “What I don’t like is having to deal with hospitals. As soon as I can find a little clinic, that’s where I’m going.”

More people start to flood the pizza place as ours is brought out on a tray to our table. I nearly moan at the pieces of crispy pepperoni as I pull a slice off the tray and fold it in half.

“Mind if I sit here and hide?”

I look up and when I do, Dylan Graves is standing beside me with his sunglasses on, his hair pulled back in a bun, and the sleeves of his black dress shirt rolled down to hide the distinctive tattoos.

“My security team is stuck out there with my double and a ton of screaming fans,” he said, keeping his voice low. “You two were in the crowd, weren’t you?”

Getting up without a word, I motion to the booth. He slides in and I take my seat again, reaching across him to grab my beer.

Calm down, Kaylie, this is just another man who is looking to avoid the crazy people chasing after him.

Gayle takes off her cowboy hat—why she wore a cowboy hat to a rock concert I will never know—and tosses it to him. He shoots her a grateful smile and plops it on his head, tipping the brim low so his face is further hidden in the shadows.

He twists in the seat, his back to the window and his gaze burning a hole in the side of my face. “I saw you dancing. Front row. To the left. You two took off before the concert was over.”

“We left before the encore,” I say, shifting to look at him. “If we stayed until the end we would’ve been mobbed trying to get out of there.”

The corner of his mouth twitches into the beginning of a crooked smile. “Well, I thought my music was better than that. I guess I’m going to have to run the next album by you to see if it’s worthy of staying through encores from now on.”

Butterflies flutter in my stomach. “You could, but I doubt it would be a good idea. I’ve heard that I have horrible taste in music. Truly awful. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s this one band called Robbing Graves? They’re alright but they could be a lot better. The singer is kind of questionable at best.”

He barks out a laugh. “Come on, go for the throat. Call me a talentless hack. You know you want to.”

I shrug one shoulder, taking another huge bite of my pizza.

Gayle looks between the two of us before pulling out her phone. “Oh no, would you look at that? I have a phone call I have to step outside and take. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

She scurries away like hell hounds are at her heels. I stare after her for a moment before a low chuckle draws my attention back to Dylan. He smirks and reaches for a slice of the pizza in the center of the table, sprinkling some red pepper flakes over it before folding it in half and taking a large bite.

“Sure, just help yourself.”

His grin widens and he takes a massive bite of the pizza, looking directly at me.

I roll my eyes and finish off my own slice before washing it down with some beer. “You know, I thought you would be less annoying in person. Aren’t rock stars supposed to keep to themselves?”

“Well, when you see a beautiful woman stuffing down a pizza and beer, you go over and say hello.” He ducks his head, looking down at the graffiti on the table as a group of women wearing shirts with his face on them pass by.

“If you want to get out of here, I could create a diversion for you.”

His eyes widen and that wicked smile is back, making my stomach do a flip. He leans closer to me. “Normally when women offer to get out of here, it’s sex they want. It’s not often that they offer to create a diversion for me.”

My cheeks feel like they’re on fire and heat pools low between my legs. “Do you want the diversion or not?”

“A diversion sounds like a good idea, but I want you to come with me.”

“I don’t want to sleep with you.”

Dylan shrugs and motions for me to slide out of the booth. “I don’t want to sleep with you either, but I do have some new music I’ve been working on and I think you might be the perfect person to listen to it.”

What does someone say to that kind of offer?

I know that going to wherever it is he wants to go is probably a bad idea. I should go back to my shoebox apartment and get ready for another day of trying to be a doctor in New York, but instead, I want to go with him.

Gayle is right. I should let loose. Just for one night.

I think over the course of my life I’ve earned one night of being someone I’m not.

“Come on,” Dylan says, his tone soft and wheedling. “I need an unbiased opinion.”

“I was just at your concert.”

“And then you proceeded to not give a shit who I am, and you were willing to rip into me for the sake of a joke. You’re the perfect amount of unbiased. Exactly the kind of person I need.”

The kind of person I need.

How many times have I been that person in someone’s life? Playing the role of the good daughter and sister. The always dependable one. The daughter who stayed out of trouble because her sister was always going through worse. Always needing more attention.

How many years have I spent fading into the background, only for one of the most famous men in the world to finally notice me?

I press my lips together in a thin line but slide out of the booth and stand. He follows behind me, pulling out his wallet and tossing several bills onto the table.

When I start to open my mouth, preparing to argue with him, he loops an arm over my shoulder and guides me toward the door.

“I was supposed to be the diversion. I never agreed to go with you.”

He pushes open the door to the pizzeria, the cold night air rushing to greet us. Gayle stops in her tracks, eyes nearly bulging out of her head when she sees the arm draped over my shoulder.

It’s the same casual touch that’s currently sending sparks shooting through my body and I don’t know what to do about it.

If anyone were to recognize him and take a picture of us right now, then I would be reduced to just another girl seen with a rock star.

He doesn’t even know my name.

The thought halts me dead in my tracks. I shake off his arm and step away from him. “I can’t go with you.”

Gayle snorts and gives me a gentle nudge toward him. “She’s going to be going with you and she’s going to have a good time, unless you’re a serial killer.”

“Not a serial killer.” Dylan pulls out his phone and hands it to my sister. “Put in your number and I’ll send you the address of where we’re going so you can rescue her if you don’t hear from her in twenty-four hours.”

“You don’t even know my name,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

He pauses, his infuriating crooked smile back. “Hey, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dylan. You are?”

Gayle squeals like this is the best moment of her life, practically bouncing up and down with her hands waving in front of her.

I snort, but I can’t fully hold back the smile that breaks across my face. “Kaylie.”

“Well, Kaylie, I’m going to give?—”

“Gayle.” Gayle stops her bouncing long enough to take his phone and type in her number.

“I’m going to give Gayle here the info for where you can be found for the rest of the night, and then you’re going to come with me and we’re going to go listen to some music.”

I could back out now. I can see it in his eyes. Even though he’s telling me what he wants to happen, if I said no, he wouldn’t push the issue.

“Let’s go.”