Home > Flirting with the Rock Star Next Door(59)

Flirting with the Rock Star Next Door(59)
Author: Nadia Lee

Mom drove off. I watched the Mercedes turn onto the main road and then went back to the house, dragging my feet and feeling like a dishrag after a Thanksgiving feast. I hadn’t dealt with this many people in a while, and my introvert brain wanted to shut down and take some time to recover. Process what had happened. It was a bit too overwhelming, especially when the visits had happened so unexpectedly.

Killian was standing by the door.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Can we talk a little? It won’t take long.”

I was torn because I wanted to plop down and think about nothing. But he had a stubborn look, the same one he’d had when we first met with our hands on the same ice cream. Except this time he looked more determined. Claiming there was a cockroach on his foot wasn’t going to cut it.

“Okay,” I said, slipping into my home and motioning for him to come inside.

He followed me in, shutting the door behind us. I threw myself on the couch, leaving him just enough room to sit. He did and waited until I arranged myself comfortably, with my feet up on the table in front of us.

“Okay. Number one, Dev won’t bring girls over like that again,” he said. “And whatever he told you is bullshit, so delete it from your memory.”

“Which part? He said a lot of things,” I said. “Besides, you don’t know what he told me while you were in the kitchen with my mom.”

“Pretty sure I do. He’s kind of predictable.”

“You mean that he’s highly concerned about women who aren’t a size two and don’t think a life goal is banging you because they’re unnatural?” I teased.

Apparently he missed the teasing, because he dropped his head into a palm with a groan. “Yeah. Some crap like that.”

“Killian, I’m not going to hold his opinion against you. That wouldn’t be fair. And he isn’t wrong about me not being a size two or not thinking my life exists solely to have sex with you.” I shrugged to let Killian know I wasn’t that affected. Seriously, I’d heard worse from my dad, who should’ve been on my side.

“No, you don’t get it. The reason I like you is that you aren’t size two, don’t want to post every minute of our time together online and don’t look at my cock like you’re going to take it with you if we break up.”

I choked, then laughed.

“I’m serious. I don’t want a woman who only eats salad or is too, too”—he searched for a word—“vacuous to do anything but take a bunch of pictures and upload them to every account she has. I’ve dated more than a few like that, and trust me, it’s no fun.”

I could imagine how annoying that would be. The Sextet’s antics with selfies drove me insane. And they couldn’t have been clearer that their sole goal was to get attention. Even spending time with Killian hadn’t been about being with him, but how it could help them.

Relationships shouldn’t be so cold and calculating. I felt terrible that Killian had to put up with people like that, and I was glad he knew I’d never be with him for anything other than the sheer enjoyment of his company.

Killian leaned forward, his gorgeous blue eyes on mine. “I know the timing’s not the best. Fuckin’ Dev.” He huffed out a breath. “Anyway, I told you I’d have to leave in June to go to Dallas, and… Well, look. Long-distance relationships suck. I want to avoid that as much as possible. This is sudden and all, but I don’t know how much time you’re going to need to think about it.”

It was a very long intro. “What’s sudden?”

He let out a breath in a rush. “I was wondering if you want to come with me. I mean, at least consider it. I’m not saying you have to sell your house here or anything, but come to Dallas for a few months. Be with me. Let’s see how it works.”

Shock shot through me. Had he read my mind earlier this morning?

If we’d had this conversation without Devlin’s visit, I would’ve smiled and said yes. It wasn’t like I had any ties to the small town, and I definitely wanted to be with Killian more than I wanted to stay in Kingstree. Or at least if Mom hadn’t visited, crying, because of Dad’s infidelity for the nth time. But both of those things happened, and I couldn’t just smile and say okay.

But maybe we should talk about this more openly and rationally, and perhaps even bring up the practical aspects of cohabitating. Although we’d spent some time together, we certainly hadn’t done anything close to living together. And since I didn’t want to sound like I was being accusatory, I decided to bring up my flaws first.

“I’m messy.” I gestured around us, at the empty bottles and notes strewn everywhere.

“We can hire a housekeeper.”

“I don’t really like strangers in my home.”

“Then we’ll clean up together when we have the time.”

I narrowed my eyes at his ready answers. This was too easy. “I will likely ignore you when I’m busy working or have a book launch coming up.”

“No problem,” he said. “I know you have a career you enjoy. I don’t want you to give that up.”

Pleasure rippled over the surprise and mild unease at what he said. But I wondered if he really knew what me not giving up my career would look like. Quite a few of my relationships had broken up because of my work. Even before I became a writer, I’d left guys because they hadn’t understood why I worked so much. To them I should work from nine to five and spend the rest of the day with them, instead of billing over eighty hours a week to clients like I’d been expected to, or fly to wherever my client company happened to be located.

And being a writer didn’t mean I worked less. I actually worked even more and kept irregular hours. Plus I had other needs for my workspace.

“You might not be able to drum when I’m working, which is almost all the time,” I said.

“So? I’m not the drummer in the band, and that’s what studios are for. Look, I like it that you aren’t perfect, because God knows I’m not. I like it that you have dreams and goals that aren’t tied to me and my career. I hate being around women who just want to, you know, hitch a ride on my coattails.”

Resentment had slipped into his tone. Somebody—or maybe everybody since he’d hit the big time—had tried to take advantage of him. And I knew how nasty a taste that could leave in your mouth. I had peers who’d treated me like garbage when I was coming up suddenly become nice once I began hitting the bestseller lists.

“Like the girls who wanted to use you to get more followers and likes?” I said, stroking the frown lines between his eyebrows.

“Exactly. Or women who wanted to get introductions to people in the music industry. You don’t care about any of that. When you’re with me, you’re with me, one hundred percent.”

He was saying all the right things, the kind of lines I’d give my romance heroes. My head said I should be more cautious. But my heart boomed, Yes, yes, yes. He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t really like me.

And I liked him, too. He’d defended my career and my place in his life. He was kind to my mom. His actions had shown that he was serious about what we had, that he wasn’t just some asshole like my dad.

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