Rockstar Next Door Neighbor (Wild Band Rockstars #3)

1. One

One

Lila

The engine groans slightly as I pull into the parking lot of Shot in the Dark , a quirky name for a pub. My older car is stuffed to the brim with everything I own. It looks hilariously out of place between two gleaming SUVs.

I switch off the ignition, and the car does its customary shudder. Leaning forward, I lovingly pat the dashboard. “Agatha, we made it! Thanks, old girl.”

Taking a deep breath, I pull down the visor mirror and finger-comb the loose blonde strands. Today marks the start of something new—something terrifying and exciting. Jacksonville is going to be my fresh start—no more small-town limitations. I can do this.

Before I lose my nerve, I grab my purse and step out into the warm Florida sun, spotting Emily Ryder almost instantly. She’s waiting near the entrance with a baby carrier that cradles Presley, her adorable infant with soft red fuzz and rosy cheeks. Emily spots me and waves enthusiastically, her smile bright and welcoming.

“Lila!” she calls, stepping forward. “You made it!”

“Emily!” I wave back, my nerves easing at the sight of her. She’s the kind of person whose energy fills a room—or, in this case, a parking lot. “And how’s baby Presley?” I coo, smiling at the baby.

Emily shakes her head ruefully. “She’s only six months old and already running my life.”

“She’s perfect,” I say, reaching out to gently touch the baby’s tiny hand. Presley grabs onto my finger with surprising strength, and we both laugh. “Looks like she has her mom’s grip on things.”

“Literally and figuratively,” Emily jokes, her blue eyes sparkling. “Come on, let’s get inside before Presley decides she’s hungry again.”

I follow Emily toward the entrance, my heart lifting a little with each step. It’s been months since I last saw her and her husband, Sam Ryder, at his father’s farm. They had brought the baby down to meet Clay. Yet, Emily feels like an old friend. She insisted I call her if I decided to move to Jacksonville, promising to show me around and help me settle in. True to her word, here we are.

Emily balances the carrier expertly as she opens the door, stepping inside and holding it for me. The pub looks amazing—with dozens of screens around the interior, each showing a different channel, but the sound is muted.

As I continue to glance around the friendly pub, the tension I’ve been carrying since I packed up my car begins to melt away. Emily nods toward a booth near the window, already smiling.

“Let’s grab that one. It’s easier to squeeze Presley’s carrier in.”

We weave through the tables and settle into the booth.

“I’m glad I’m finally here,” I say, placing my purse on the seat beside me. “It feels like a lifetime ago since we saw each other. So much has changed since then.”

Emily tilts her head, her blue eyes warm with curiosity. “Like deciding to move to Jacksonville? That’s huge! What made you finally take the plunge? ”

I laugh softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I just needed a change. Ocala’s great, but I felt stuck. I’ve always wanted to try my hand at being a private chef, and when you mentioned Jacksonville—it felt like the right place to start.”

“It’s the perfect place,” Emily agrees, nodding. “There’s such a demand for private chefs here. You’ll have clients lining up in no time.”

Her words are encouraging, but a small part of me still worries about the leap I’ve taken. “I hope you’re right. My car’s loaded with everything I own. If this doesn’t work out, I’ll be back home before I know it.”

Emily waves off my concern, her confidence infectious. “You’re going to crush it. I still dream about that cupcake you made at the barn dance. If that’s any indication, you’ll be booked solid in no time.”

I smile, feeling a bit more at ease. “Thanks, Emily. I needed to hear that.”

The server swings by, dropping off our menus and taking our drink orders—iced tea for both of us. We scan the selections, and by the time our food arrives, it’s like no time has passed since we last saw each other.

Emily is easy to talk to, and I find myself sharing my plans for the future: the kind of clients I hope to work for, the dishes I’ve been perfecting, and my dream of running a small business. She listens intently, asking questions and offering advice as we polish off our meals. If anyone can help me with my business, it’s Emily. She’s successfully managed the Wild Band for over a year.

“Presley is a perfect little angel,” I tell Emily, who gives me a proud smile.

“Thanks.” She rolls her eyes. “But she can be a terror when she wants to be.”

After lunch, Emily insists on following me to my car. She wants to see just how much I managed to cram into it. “This I have to see,” she says, laughing as she picks up the baby carrier.

We step into the afternoon sun, the heat wrapping around us. I lead her to the corner of the lot where my old car sits, with its faded paint and one hubcap missing.

“There she is,” I say, gesturing with a flourish. “Agatha. She doesn’t look like much, but she gets me where I need to go.”

Emily lets out a low whistle, circling the car. “It’s a miracle you made it here. Are you sure it runs okay? ”

“Better than you’d think,” I say, grinning as I pop the back trunk. Emily peers inside the trunk and then the dusty windows as she takes in the stacked boxes, bags of clothes, and a small collection of kitchen gadgets I couldn’t bear to leave behind.

“Wow,” she says, shaking her head. “You weren’t kidding when you said everything you own is in here. Where are you staying tonight?”

I hesitate. “I booked a hotel not far from here. Just for tonight.” Followed by a shrug. “I’ll figure out the rest as I go.”

Emily straightens up, crossing her arms with a determined look. “Absolutely not. You’re staying with us. We’ve got plenty of room, and you’ll save a little money while you get settled.”

“Oh, Emily, I couldn’t—“

“You can, and you will,” she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I insist. Plus, it’ll give us more time to hang out. I’ll even help you find a place.”

Her offer warms me, and I find myself nodding before I’ve fully processed it. “Okay, but only if you’re sure. I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not imposing,” she says, grinning. “And trust me, Sam will love having you around. He’s still raving about your baked goods.”

We laugh, and I can’t help but feel a little lighter as I follow Emily out of the parking lot, ready to begin my new life.

When we pull up to a charming beach house directly on the ocean, my eyes widen.

I knew Sam and Emily were doing well—the Wild Band is one of the most successful rock bands in the country—but this place is something else. The house is a beautiful two-story with a wrap-around front porch overflowing with flowers in full bloom.

“Home sweet home,” Emily says as she exits her car. “Come on, I’ll show you around, and then we can start bringing in your things.”

I follow her inside, trying not to gawk at the gorgeous interior. The house is stylish but comfortable, with warm woods and cool blues that mirror the ocean outside. The living area has large windows that offer amazing views of the Atlantic. One wall is filled with family photos—Emily and Sam, pictures with the band, and countless shots of baby Presley. And everywhere you look, you see plants in pots or hanging from the ceiling.

“This is incredible,” I breathe, following Emily through the open-concept first floor.

“Thanks,” she says, settling Presley’s carrier on the kitchen island. “But wait until you see where you’ll be staying. The guest room has one of the best views in the house.”

Before we can head upstairs, the front door opens, and Sam walks in. He’s exactly as I remember him—tall, broad-shouldered, with that easy smile that made him the heartthrob of our high school.

“Lila!” he exclaims, giving me a friendly hug. “Emily said you were coming, but I didn’t know it was today. Welcome to Jacksonville!”

“Thanks, Sam. Your wife just rescued me from a sketchy hotel stay.”

He laughs, moving to kiss Emily and scoop up Presley. “That sounds like her, always ready with a plan and a helping hand (or two!).”

Emily swats his arm playfully. “Speaking of which, I have an idea about where Lila could live permanently.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Let me guess—the duplex?”

“The duplex,” Emily confirms, turning to me with excitement. “The band owns this amazing property right on the beach. It’s split into two units, and the one on the left just opened up. It would be perfect for you!”

My heart skips a beat. “On the beach? Emily, I can’t afford—“

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” she interrupts. “The rent would be reasonable, and you’d have your own private entrance. Plus...” She exchanges a knowing look with Sam. “We already have another tenant living in the other half.”

“Who?” I ask, vaguely suspicious of the look they’re exchanging. This feels like a setup.

“Someone connected with the band,” Sam explains, bouncing Presley on his hip. “He’s a great guy. Quiet neighbor. Terrible cook.”

Emily’s eyes sparkle mischievously. “Which means he could probably use a private chef.”

I feel my cheeks warm. “Are you trying to set me up with a client or a date?”

“Can’t it be both?” Emily winks, making Sam chuckle .

“Don’t let her matchmaking scare you off,” he says. “The duplex really would be perfect for you. It’s safe, private, and close to everything, and you’d have us nearby if you need anything.”

I bite my lip, considering. A place on the beach has always been a dream of mine, but it seemed impossible on a starting chef’s budget. “Can I at least see it first?”

“Of course!” Emily claps her hands together. “We can go right now. Sam, you okay with Presley?”

He waves us off. “Go. We’ll have some daddy-daughter time.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re standing in front of a charming yellow duplex with white trim. The sound of waves crashes nearby, and I can smell the salt in the air. The left unit’s small front porch has a swing, and tropical plants frame the entrance.

“This would be yours,” Emily says, unlocking the door and punching in a security code. “The one on the left.”

I step inside and immediately fall in love. The space is open and bright, with hardwood floors and large windows that let in natural light. It’s already furnished with sturdy, comfortable furniture. The kitchen, though small, is updated with stainless steel appliances and plenty of counter space. A sliding glass door in the living room leads to a deck with an unobstructed view of the ocean.

“Emily,” I whisper, “this is lovely.”

She beams. “I knew you’d love it. There’s also a bedroom and office upstairs, plus a half bath down here and full bath up there.”

I run my hand along the kitchen counter, already imagining the meals I could create here. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just be a good tenant.” She pauses, then adds more seriously, “The band purchased this place thinking the band or crew could stay here when not on tour. Nate lived here for a while but found something he liked better, and Vince—well, Vince is a playboy, so this was a bit too laid back for him.”

I turn to face her, overwhelmed by everything—the move, the apartment, the possibility of living this close to the ocean. “You really think this could work?”

Emily pulls me into a hug. “I know it will. Welcome to your new home, Lila.”

Standing in this beautiful space, with the ocean breeze drifting through the windows and new possibilities hanging in the air, I finally feel like I’ve made the right choice. Jacksonville isn’t just a fresh start—it’s exactly where I’m meant to be.