Stuck with a Billionaire Rockstar : A Bad Boy, Best Friend's Brother Romance

Chapter One

Ican feel everyone’s eyes on me as I rush through the entrance of the restaurant, my shoes squeaking loudly on the hard floor that leads to the hostess counter. There’s a young woman standing there, smiling brightly at me, but I notice her eyes drop down to my shoes.

I had every intention of wearing my favorite pair of heels tonight, but my first mistake was wearing them to work today. The second mistake was thinking I’d be able to show up on this blind date looking put together. I’ve got a mountain of tests that need grading, all sitting on my desk in the classroom, and I lost track of time.

Lost track of time.

For a date.

“Hi, I’m meeting someone here,” I say softly and give her my best smile, while simultaneously blowing a strand of my hair out of my face.

My best friend, Mallory, helped me plan this date to the barest detail so nothing would be left to chance. It seems those plans were a waste of time because everything is going wrong.

The tennis shoes I”m wearing have dirt stains on them, proving just how often I use them to go out into the garden and tend to my vegetables. My favorite heels, the ones that are currently sitting in the back seat of my car, have puke seeping into the soles – that’s what being an elementary teacher will get you. Instead of having my hair curled and pinned to the top of my head, as Mallory and I had talked about, I had to quickly run my hands through it before leaving.

I give the hostess my date”s last name, who the reservation is under, and she nods excitedly. “Of course, right this way.”

While she leads me through the tables, I sigh in relief when my shoes touch the carpeted space. I pull my phone out and quickly look at the time, then curse at myself for being twenty minutes late. What woman ends up being late for their own date?

This one.

When we round the corner, there’s a lanky brunette man sitting alone at a table with his phone resting in front of him. His jaw is clenched tightly shut as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. I silently pray that we’re going to a different one, but my luck is shot for the day, and she comes to a stop in front of him. He glances up at me, his tense shoulders relaxing for a moment before trailing his gaze down the length of my body.

I had the perfect dress picked out, hanging in the closet in my classroom, and I never got the chance to put it on. Instead of the red number that would’ve hugged all my curves, I’ve got the pencil skirt I wore for work that is loose around my thighs and a thin sheer blouse that doesn’t show a single asset. It’s pathetic, honestly, and I’m sure Mallory will have the same reaction when I tell her about this.

“Hi,” I say as he lifts slowly from his chair. He spreads his arms out, and I immediately step closer to him, wrapping my arms around his wide frame. When he clears his throat, I stumble away from him and note the frown on his face. Maybe that was the wrong move. “Sorry for being late,” I mumble.

I’m trying to wrack my brain for his name, but all my students” names are still firmly at the front of my mind and I’m coming up blank on his.

This is probably why my dates never go as planned.

My date walks around the table and pulls my chair out, waving a hand in front of me to indicate I can sit down. I sink into the chair slowly, keeping my eyes on him as he strides back over to his chair and sits down, and then I blow out a rough breath. “I had tests to grade, and I lost track of time. My favorite shoes are sitting in my car, coated in puke because one of my students got sick today,” I reach forward and grab the glass of water sitting in front of me, then take a large sip with my eyes pointed at the tablecloth. “It’s been… a day.”

Silence ensues and I look up, finding his gaze on me with a stern frown, and I shake my head while chuckling nervously. “Sorry, Mallory mentioned you work with her. What do you do?” He opens his mouth, but I continue. “I’ve been in her office a few times, but never saw you around.”

He clears his throat and says, “I’m one of the managers. My office is on a different floor than hers, but we’ve shared lunch a few times.”

The hostess comes up to us with a bottle of red wine and I smile at her while holding my wine glass out. As a teacher, drinking wine is a necessity on most days before I have to go to bed, and this night is no different.

I take a long sip after it’s poured, then place the glass back onto the coaster I got it from and pause to wait for him to say more. The awkward silence is too much, though, so I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Did you know that red wine prevents wrinkles?” He blinks at me, confused by my statement, and I nod as if this is what he wants to hear. “The abundance of antioxidants in wine helps destroy radicals in your body, resulting in great skin.”

“That’s… interesting,” he says before giving the hostess a weird look. She doesn’t say anything, only scurries away to leave us alone at the table.

“There’s a wine-phobia called oenophobia, where people are actually afraid of wine. Isn’t that ridiculous?” I snort in response to my own question, and my cheeks flame up immediately from embarrassment. Another fact comes to mind, and I chuckle. “And in Utah, there’s a law that prevents you from swallowing wine if you’re tasting it. Imagine this,” I say, lifting my wine glass in the air. “We’re in Utah, on a date just like this, and a wine I’ve never had before gets placed in front of me. I’d have to taste it, then spit it out in front of you.”

“Look, can we talk about something else?” my date asks, then sighs. “Literally, anything. As long as it’s not about wine.”.

“Of course.” I think about what I could talk about, but my mind is an empty void, and I’m more worried about the way my stomach is churning. How is it that I can’t think of a single thing to talk about, but I manage to bring up unnecessary facts about wine?

“Do you like working with children?”

Now, this is a topic I can go on and on about without sounding like a weirdo. I smile and nod my head, my fingers clinging to the stem of my glass. “Working with kids has always been my passion. It’s a wonderful job.”

He smirks, although it’s not as bright as I hoped it would be. “I bet you have tons of stories.”

Things are getting easier, this is good. Mallory would be pleased to know I’m not bombing the entire thing. “Oh gosh, more than I can keep count of.” I lean forward with a bright smile and add, “The answers they give on some of their classwork and tests are a delight.”

He lets out a deep chuckle after I share a story of my student, Brady, who argued with me for an hour that the moon was made of cheese. His laugh is warm and I wait for that sensation to course through me that tells me I’m attracted to the man sitting in front of me – it never comes. He looks around the dimly lit restaurant and asks, “Have you been here before?”

“Only a few times.” I’m not going to mention to him that it was because of dates before him that never lasted longer than thirty minutes – that would be embarrassing. “And you?”

“It’s one of my favorite places to eat, and the food is delicious.”

“Glad to hear it,” I say with a cheesy grin.

The white dress shirt he’s wearing is nice, but I notice something sitting at the edge of his collar that’s bothering me, and I lean forward to brush it off. He flinches away from my touch, so I let my hand fall with a shake of my head, and the first thing it hits is his glass of wine. “Shit,” I mutter, leaning forward further as I press my hands down on the red liquid inching closer to the edge of the table.

I wanted to keep it from getting all over my date. Except, when my hand comes down on the puddle of wine, it splatters all over his dress shirt and onto his face. “I’m so sorry!” As if everything else wasn’t going bad enough today, this had to be added to the list. The worst part is that I’d love to add his name to my apology, but I can’t remember it even though I double-checked before coming into the restaurant.

My mind is blank, and he’s looking at me as though I’ve grown a second head. He sighs and shakes his head, lifting slowly from the table. “I’m going to get cleaned up.” There’s nothing good about the grunt that follows his words, but he’s headed through the dining room before I can say anything.

After I get the wine cleaned up, my date clears his throat behind his chair with a frown on his face, and the hostess walks up to us.

I see the black book before she holds it out to him, and my heart plummets, my stomach churning in response. He grabs the pen the woman hands him, smiles at her much brighter than he’s done to me this entire time, and scrawls his name over the receipt. “This has been great, but I don’t think it’s going to work out.”

I blink in confusion and cock my head to the side. “But, uh, we didn’t order food, Owen.”

His jaw clenches, and he shakes his head. “It’s Oliver.” He nods to the hostess, who ignores the rest of our conversation and heads back to the front of the restaurant while I stay in the seat dumbfounded.

Again?

How many more times does this need to happen? Oliver shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants and looks toward the exit, then back at me with a thumb hooked over his shoulder. “Yeah, uh, I’m going to head out. The bill is paid for. Have a good night.”

I watch him walk away with my mouth dropped open in surprise, then my phone rings loudly through the dining room, and it receives scowls from the guests surrounding me. Before anyone can get angrier, I quickly swipe my finger across the screen and rise from my chair with a frown on my face. “Yeah?”

“Another one, Jules?”

Mallory’s groan makes me roll my eyes as I push through the exit and come to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “No,” I mutter.

“Is that so?” Mallory asks amusingly. “So, why are you answering the phone then?”

“Fresh air.”

She hums in response. “What did you do?”

“Maybe it was him. Did you ever think of that?” I ask, snapping at her much more than necessary.

“Jules, this happens every time,” she says softly.

“I know.” I blow out a rough breath and swipe the hair from my eyes, looking each way down the parking lot before hurrying toward my car. The lights blink as I unlock the doors, and I slide into the front seat, then let my head fall onto the steering wheel with a loud groan. “Why do I suck?”

“Well,” Mallory says. “What did you talk about?”

“I was late, so–”

She sucks in a sharp breath on the other end of the phone, and I can already imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “You were late? How late exactly?”

“Twenty minutes,” I mumble before leaning back into the front seat.

“God, would it kill you to be on time?”

“I had papers to grade, and I didn’t even finish them!”

“What did you tell him when you got there?”

“The truth. I may have also added that one of my students puked all over my favorite heels,” I whisper, realizing where my mistake came about in all this mess. “Then I started rattling off facts about red wine.”

“Babe,” Mallory says with pity dripping from her tone. “You have to calm down with that shit. No guy wants to listen to you talk facts about something they aren’t into.”

“I couldn’t help it,” I whine. “I was nervous.”

Mallory sighs. “It was worth a shot. I’ll meet you at your place with a fresh bottle of wine. See you in a bit.”

Just as she promised, Mallory is sitting at the edge of my steps with a bottle of wine tucked under her arm and her gorgeous dark hair tied in pigtail French braids. She stands when I climb out of the car, a sad smile on her face because she assumes I need her pity and spreads an arm out to drape it over my shoulder.

I roll my eyes and dig into my purse to search for my house keys. “I really don’t need this, Mal. I’m fine.”

She cocks a thick hip with a perfectly shaped brow arched and says, “Your nose is still red, babe.”

Instead of answering her, I push the door open as soon as I hear the lock click and let her follow me inside.

“Maybe our trip next week will give you the perfect opportunity to explore things with new people and get your awkwardness under control,” she suggests with a shrug.

Next week, right?

My best friend thought it was the best idea to go to the U.S. Virgin Islands once school let out next week, and I stupidly told her yes. If I had known her plan was to flaunt me around to all the toned guys lounging around, I probably would’ve said no.

Mallory and I have been friends since college when we were put into a room together, and there’s no one else I’d rather have as my best friend. As much as I get annoyed with her extroverted personality, I also can’t help but appreciate the loyalty she shows me. It doesn’t matter if she’s in the middle of the best date of her life, if I call with an issue or an SOS text, she comes running.

“Mal,” I groan. “Please tell me this isn’t some crazy plan to get me into a stranger”s bed.”

“It’s not.” I can sense the smirk in her response, and she clears her throat. “No, seriously, though, Jules. You deserve this vacation after spending all school year focusing on your students. This is for both of us.”

Where I’m shy and introverted, Mallory is outgoing and the life of the party. It only takes seconds for strangers to flock over to her, eager to hear what crazy story she’s telling, and sometimes I wish I could be as bold as she is.

Maybe this trip will bring out a new me.

One that I can be proud of.

Mallory’s phone blares with a FaceTime call, and my eyes widen at Brent Dominic”s large image on the screen. Not only is he one of the hottest rock stars currently alive, but he’s also my best friend’s older brother. I can barely make eye contact with him without my tongue hanging out of my mouth like a dog desperate for a drink. He’s got one of those perfectly shaped faces that should be illegal because there’s no reason why someone’s jaw should look as though it could slice you wide open with how defined it is.

The last thing I need is for such a beautiful man to hear about my disastrous date and include his opinion on the matter. I’ve seen the articles posted about him, and I can’t imagine his response would be much different than Mallory’s – possibly worse.

“Let me take this,” Mallory mutters. Before I can object, she swipes her finger over the screen and it stays black for a moment until Brent’s pretty face is filling the screen. “Brent, what do you want?”

Brent chuckles. “Nice to see you, too, sis.”

She rolls her eyes in response and sighs. “Just tell me what you need. I’m in the middle of something with Julia.” To my horror, she angles her camera over at me, and my face blanches. It doesn’t matter how many women he’s seen with. It doesn’t change how beautiful the rockstar is.

His hair is a mess of curls, but in the most adorable way, I’ve ever seen – like he just got out of bed, even though it’s nighttime in LA. He flashes a smirk that shouldn’t make me want to fall onto my knees for him and lifts his chin in my direction. “Hey, Buttercup.”

My mouth is parted open, tongue nearly hanging out of my mouth, at the sight of the rose tattoo along his throat. “Uh, hi, Brent, hope everything is, um, going good with the band.” I sound like a helpless teenager who’s talking to her crush for the first time. When I steal a quick glance at Mallory, she’s got amusement shining in her eyes, and my cheeks heat in response. “Anyway, good seeing you.”

As I rush away, I hear him asking Mallory about our trip next week and where we’ll be staying, but it fades as I disappear further into my small room and sink onto the edge of my bed with a heavy sigh.

I’m not even sure this trip is the best thing for me, only that Mallory swears it’s what I need, and I want to trust her opinion. Is it that I want to trust her, though, or are her constant comments about my lack of dating skills starting to affect me?

If it wasn’t for my past relationship, I’d probably be more forward and entertaining. That’s not how the cards were dealt to me, though.

Maybe Mallory’s right, and I’ll open up to some random stranger at this resort, then fall in love with him and have cute babies.

I’m already going insane.

“I swear, I’ll cockblock him the entire time if he shows up next week,” Mallory growls as she storms into my room just as I tug a over-sized t-shirt over my head.

“You think he’s going to come?” I ask, trying not to sound as though I’m interested in whether her older brother is going to be there as well. I’m not. That crush sailed a long time ago.

If only I believed my own words.

“I sure hope not.” She shakes her head, sits at the edge of my bed, and crosses her tanned legs over one another with a small smile. “Enough about that though, we’ve got some wine to drink and plans to discuss.”

That’s the big mystery at the moment – what the hell does Mallory have planned once we get to St. Croix?