Accidental Rock Star (21 page)

Chopper blades sounded
from the end zone. The helicopter had returned to retrieve
Tyler.

Aria had to break
protocol one more time. She threw her arms around Tyler. “Missed
you.”

His arms tightened, and
he buried his face in her neck. “You’re my music.”

She sucked in a breath,
gripped his shoulders and squeezed. “Okay. I have to stop. I can’t
make out with my boyfriend on the football field. It’s a
thing.”

Tyler put his mouth to
her ear. “Tell me how much you liked the song.”

The helicopter hovered,
and Aria raised her voice.

“A cello? Country? I
loved
your song.”

The cord dropped down
from the chopper. Tyler didn’t look up, though he had to have heard
the grinding mechanical sound of it lowering. “And how I sang
it?”

“Perfection.”

Tyler grinned at her.
She loved being this close to him, his voice, his strength, his
body. He made her weak.

Smoke wafted through
the night air. Had he arranged fireworks?

A tall brunette stood
at the back of the float. Smoke wafted up from the ground. She was
beautiful, in a short, form-fitting red dress, but her face was
carved into angry lines. Aria knew who she was. She’d seen her
pictures on the Internet.

Gina.

Crackling pops sounded
around the makeshift stage and a ring of flames lit up the
grass.

Tyler cursed.

Aria froze. The flames
blasted away the cold of the night, but an unreal chill swept over
her. This was happening. Shouts started sounding from the crowd.
Claps. Like it was part of the show.

Gina backed away,
heading toward the end zone, nearing Li-War.

Dylan pointed.

He and Ethan dropped
their instruments and jetted across the field. Dylan grabbed her
arms. Ethan snagged Li-War’s tongue, tying it around Gina.

The flames crackled
higher.

“Should we jump?” Fear.
Confusion hit her.

Tyler grabbed her wrist
with one hand. With the other, he snatched the clip from the
helicopter. He slid his hand to her waist, feeling for a belt.
“I’ll send you up.”

The flames had reached
the top of the stage. They were burning at an incredible rate. In
just minutes, the ground around them had scorched, the runner had
caught fire, and now the stage was lighting up.

“The new uniforms don’t
have belts.” Fear crumpled her voice.

Tyler clicked the
anchor onto the back of his own belt and grabbed her. “Hold
on.”

Aria threw her arms
around his neck and hooked her legs around his waist.

Weightless.

They lifted into the
air above the stage. Higher. Wind whipped at her. They spun upward
like entwined dancers in ribbons.

The platform they’d
been standing on dissolved into flame.

The ground grew further
away, and the chopper blades grew louder. They swung near the side
door of the helicopter. Hands grabbed them, guiding them into
seats, securing headphones over their ears.

They were off.

***

The helicopter landed
on an airstrip, and two local cop cars pulled up.

Tyler helped her down
and looked at the police. “I have to go deal with that.”

“Yeah.”

Tyler pointed to a
private car, a black SUV in a nearby lot. “My crew will get you
home.” He kissed her and the kiss was warm, fleeting, and powerful
all at once. “I have to go.”

“Yeah.”

Tyler gave her a last
drugging kiss. “Call me after you talk to your parents.”

Aria winced. “I
will.”

“Okay.” He gave her a
quick hug and strolled toward the cops.

One of the men she’d
been introduced to in the ’copter walked her over to the cruiser
and took her address. She was home in minutes and opened the door
to the familiar in a new, unfamiliar world.

Both her parents were
waiting for her in the living room. They had their game day clothes
on: jeans and Lizard T-shirts. Their jackets lay on the couch as if
they’d just gotten in and hadn’t had time to hang them up. “Aria,”
they said in unison.

Mom took over. “How did
we not know your plans? Is it this boy?”

Aria shook her head. “I
talked to Dylan and Ethan before Tyler came back. We were going to
continue the band.”

“So, you’re in a
professional band and didn’t tell us?”

Aria tried to smile and
shuffled her feet. “You know I can’t talk to you about music.”

Mom flinched. “This
is—” She cleared her throat and started again. “This is—”

Aria took a picture
frame off the shelf, of her and Aunt Bev, the polished glass strong
and fragile under her fingertips. “This isn’t Aunt Bev and
traveling road festivals.” She pressed, holding on so tight the
edges hurt her hand and threatened to break. “Though you know what?
Aunt Bev handles it wrong, but she loves what she does—and I love
it, too.”

Mom pried the picture
away. She wiped the fingerprints off with the hem of her T-shirt
and put it back on the shelf, patting the frame. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Her parents hugged
her.

“We’re always here for
you, Aria,” Dad said. “The same way we’re always here for your aunt
Bev.” Dad drew back and shook his head. “You knew that, didn’t you?
Did we somehow not let you know that?”

Aria’s throat clogged,
and she couldn’t answer him. She hugged harder and then felt
lighter. She let go of a weight she hadn’t known she’d held
onto.

***

Winter break in L.A.
Aria was visiting Tyler while Ethan and Dylan hung out at the
hotel, and Baylee visited her cousin Marissa. This was her first
time at Tyler’s house. The place was overwhelming, like him. Glass
walls, a view that touched the clouds, framed achievements, awards.
It was a lot to take in. “Just because we’re going on the road
together doesn’t mean I want a fast.”

“As slow as you want,”
Tyler promised in a husky voice and kissed the side of her
neck.

A shiver rocked through
her as he pressed rhythmic kisses down to her collarbone. The
kisses made slow molasses roll through her veins. “Tyler,” she
murmured, her own voice deeper and husky, too.

He stilled a moment and
cupped her face with the same loving possession he cupped the
microphone stand. “I love it when you say my name. My
real
name.”

It made her want to
tease him. To call him
Sax
. But the molten feeling in her
veins wouldn’t allow it. It had her in its grip and only permitted
her to press closer to melt into him. “Please, Tyler.”

Tyler groaned and
stripped her shirt off, going zero to sixty, and she had no thought
to stop him. Her thoughts were fuzzy, her body weak and powerless.
Her only ability to move, to think, was to reach for the hem of his
shirt and pull it up, too. Skin to skin. The sensation was
shocking. Extreme. She tilted her head back and groaned. He
recaptured her face and tilted her into him for a kiss. A full-on
rhythmic, rock star, nothing-held-back kiss. He traced from her
shoulders to her waist with calloused fingertips roughened from his
practices. The hands of a musician. The focus of a professional.
The rhythm of a rock star. The perfect motions of a guy willing to
put in the practice.

She loved it. She loved
him. She wanted more. He reached down and cupped her bottom to lift
her. She straddled his waist and placed her arms around his
shoulders. He supported her with one hand and unhooked the back of
her bra with the other. The band loosened and the thought of
feeling him against her, truly skin to skin, made her tighten her
thighs against his waist.

He groaned and carried
her, exiting the living room, one hand flattened on her bare back,
the other still holding her tightly to him.

A cough sounded from
the door. A fake cough followed by a masculine laugh. The sounds
intruded, and she welcomed them about as much as she welcomed being
awakened early on a Saturday morning—with denial, annoyance, and
refusal. She rubbed Tyler’s tensed biceps, marveling at his
strength.

The cough sounded
again, followed by a man’s words, spoken in a heavy Scottish
accent. “Well. Well. Well. Who you got there, Sax?”

Tyler tensed and
stopped walking through the doorway. He lifted his head, and she
dropped hers back to peer at Tyler. His eyes narrowed, and he
turned. “Piss off, you two.”

You two? She tilted and
looked around his arm. Oh, God. Two guys were in his living room.
Two guys she recognized instantly but had never met—movie stars
Garrett Campbell and Caz Thaymore stood not ten feet from them,
staring. Oh, God. Her legs dropped down, and she started to push
away but Tyler grabbed her arms, stopping her. He bent to her ear
and whispered, “Don’t move. Let me re-hook your bra.” His fingers
moved along her back, following his words with actions.

OMG. Heat filled her
face. Mortification filled her body. She couldn’t move, and didn’t
know where her shirt was.

Tyler turned his gaze
to his friends. “Help yourselves to a drink. We’ll be right back.”
He backed her into the wide hallway and she scurried away from the
living room. “Oh, God, Tyler.”

He frowned. “I hoped
you’d be saying that to me one day. But under different
circumstances.” He stared at her bra in fascination as if he could
linger, looking at her for hours. It was a total turn-on, but not
enough to stop her from shaking her head.

“I knew you’d throw
your bra at me one day.”

Aria shook her head at
him again.

“Let me get you a
shirt.” He opened the furthest door and strode into his bedroom,
going over to his closet.

She scooted in and shut
the door quickly behind her. Tyler’s friends weren’t big on
knocking. She turned the lock. “I’m mortified.” She took a soft
black concert shirt from him and noticed with a smile that the
front bore the name of his last tour. She pulled it on. “I don’t
think I can face your friends.” She widened her eyes. “And do you
know who they are?”

He lost his smile.
“Don’t look so impressed with those two hacks. Neither could carry
a tune to save his life.” He looked at his bed, a large king-sized
one with a thick blue comforter on top. “I’ll get rid of them. We
can stay here. Put the shoot off.”

“No, we can’t.” Her
voice squeaked, and she couldn’t tear her gaze from the size of the
mattress. The thought of lying there with him. Stretching out.
Stretching against him. “Tyler.”

“Babe. You’ve got to
stop. I can’t move when you use that tone. When your voice goes all
melty like that, like heated lyrics.”

She was adding that
line to the song she was writing and smiled at the thought of
playing it for him. “Mmm.”

Tyler growled. “We’re
getting out of here.” He pulled her by the hand.

Aria resisted. “Wait.”
She pointed at the big instrument in the corner where the
floor-to-ceiling window met the wall. “Why do you have a cello in
your bedroom?”

Tyler squeezed her
hand. He gave her a quick kiss. “I’m practicing. It’s a surprise
for my girlfriend.”

Excitement bubbled
through her, and she wanted to hear him play. She tugged him toward
the corner.

“Uh-uh, Babe.” His
beautiful voice deepened. “I gotta get you out of my room. Or we
gotta stay.”

Aria grinned. She’d be
back. She turned toward the door and let Tyler take her into the
living room. He only let go of her to greet his friends. Each got a
guy one-armed hug.

Caz prowled in front of
the windows. Garrett threw himself on the couch, lounging with his
arms across the back. His vivid green eyes, which she’d only seen
onscreen, narrowed, and he reached down to the seat beside him and
lifted up her discarded shirt. The T-shirt had
Leithville High
School
on the front and listed names of the percussion section.
One of her friends had drawn a heart around Tyler’s name and penned
in
I heart a percussionist
.

It made her flush
deepen. She rocked back on her heels and tried to think of
something sophisticated or sensible or stupid to
say—
anything
. Nothing. She had nothing.

Garrett hooked his
index finger into her shirt and twirled it around his hand. He
looked at Tyler. “I see you brought a souvenir back from
Texas.”

Tyler snatched her
shirt from him. “Piss off, Garrett.”

Caz stifled a
smile.

“Ach, now, don’t be
shy, Sax. Caz and I picked up a little souvenir from America,
too.”

Tyler snapped him in
the head with her shirt. “Marissa will take your head off if she
hears you calling her a souvenir.”

Garrett’s eyes widened.
“Now, you know Marissa would never believe such swill. That such a
dehumanizing term could come from the love of her life. Her soul’s
future. Her heart’s true…”

Caz cut him off, his
own smile gone. “No need to bring this up in front of Ashley,
either.” His crisp British voice said the words with a firmness
bordering on desperation that made her smile and relax. Caz smiled
back at her and held out his hand. “Caspian Thaymore. Call me
Caz.”

She could see how his
smile could sell out the box office overnight. It had charisma,
power, and that indefinable thing that stars had. He and Garrett
also both had rich deep voices. Despite what Tyler said, she bet
they could carry a tune.

Tyler tugged her hand
free of Caz’s and threaded his fingers through hers. “Turn it off,
Caz. This is my girlfriend, Aria. Aria Harris.”

“Hi y’all.”

“Y’all.” Garrett leaned
forward and shook her free hand, tugging her a little forward. But
he did it with his eyes on Tyler, clearly screwing with him. “Talk
to us some more. Caz and I love a woman with a slow, drawling
voice.”

A flush hit the top of
Tyler’s cheekbones. Temper flashed in his eyes.

Aria spoke before he
could go off on his friend. Jesus. These were his friends. “We’ve
got to go. Sax is re-shooting his video and promised me and the
guys we could watch.”