Rockstar Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle New Adult BBW)

by Emme Rollins

  “Why are you doing this?” she wailed.

  “You’re the one who cheated on me,” Asher said. Hurt by the betrayal, he was also genuinely confused about why Donna was fighting so ardently against their breakup. She wanted to sleep around, so now she could sleep around. End of story.

  “Are you saying it’s my fault?”

  “It’s my fault, it’s nobody’s fault. Who cares? But it’s over.” As he said it, Asher realized that it had been over for a long time. For a very long time.

  There was some more crying, and some more screaming, and finally Donna hung up, shouting that he would “regret this”. Asher felt numb. He let the hand holding his cell phone drop limply between his knees and closed his eyes. It was over. Truly, finally over.

  The world hadn’t changed, at least not that much, but to Asher the shift was monumental. He was single again. It had been so long that he didn’t know what to do. The cage had been lifted off of his heart but he was too scared to know where to fly. Or how. For one brief horrible moment, he thought of calling Donna back and asking to give them another chance.

  Then a shadow passed over his face, and two skintight black leather thigh high boots stepped in front of him. It was a second before he realized what the girl in front of him was saying. She leaned forward, snapping her fingers irritatedly in front of his face, and he caught a hint of marvelously ample cleavage. His pupils dilated, then refocused onto the brightest green eyes he had ever seen.

  “Hello? Earth to drummer boy. Where do you guys wanna put these amps?”

  Her choppy blonde hair shone nearly white in the sunshine, bleached by too many days of saltwater and surfing. A true California girl. Five feet two if she was anything, with another three inches or so added by her platform heels, she stood over Asher, waiting, the sun casting a halo behind her head. Asher’s eyes moved over the line of her silhouette, every part of her managing to be both curvy and impatient.

  “Uh, Yeah,” Asher said. There was some kind of determination in her that struck him right away, the way she stood as though she owned the entire stage, even when she was just waiting for an answer to her question. Which he realized, too late after staring at her figure for a full five seconds, he hadn’t really given her.

  “What does that mean? Uh, yeah?” She tossed her hair to one side. It really wasn’t fair to make him use his brain right then and there, what with her leather miniskirt hugging her hips like that. His eyes flickered up to her face then back down, vacillating between the views. His eyes adjusted to the sun shining from behind her, and he was able to see her expression. It, too, was impatient.

  Bright pink lip gloss coated her full lips, and as she looked at him she pursed them in an irritated expression. It was the cutest thing he had ever seen.

  “Hello? Are you high? Where do you want these amps?”

  “No, I’m just – you can put them right there – no, my mind is just somewhere else right now.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. You’re playing after us, right?”

  Asher had not expected that he would have to string more than five sentences together for this particular conversation, and the way she was looking at him was beginning to be intimidating, in a sexy kind of way. Very sexy. He loved the way her hips moved under the miniskirt, swaying as though to some invisible beat. Energy pulsed through her body, coming out in a twist of her waist, the tap of her heeled toe.

  “Yeah.”

  Although Donna had always made him nervous about talking with other girls, he realized now that he was a free man. He could talk to this sexy blond beauty for as long as he liked. He could talk to her for an hour and take her out for a drink and there was nobody there to stop him. He could—

  “Well then you’d better get ready. I’m almost done with our mic check.”

  Oh. Right. The show.

  “Yeah. Hey,” he said, scrambling to his feet. She was walking away from him already but turned around, her hand on one hip. An expectant expression on her face. “Uh– I, um – what’s your name?”

  “Trixie,” she said. “You know.” She tilted her head nearly imperceptibly toward the banner behind her that read Cheap Trix.

  “Oh. Right.”

  “It’s okay, it’s not like we’re opening for your show or anything.” Her voice was acidic. God, he was such an idiot. Of course. Trixie. She graced the cover of their first CD, the one he’d been listening to on repeat in the tour bus, much to the disapproval of his fellow band members.

  “I really like your music,” he said lamely.

  “Sure.” Her eyes swept up and down his figure, and he had the strange sensation of being naked. It was not altogether unpleasant. “Make sure your guitarist checks his amps.”

  “I will,” he said, but she had already turned away. Her bright pink guitar hung over her back, the straps studded with rhinestones. They flashed in the bright San Diego sunshine and Asher stood there for a moment, letting himself be blinded by the sparkling of light.

  “Hey Asher!” Julian called over to him from the side of the stage. “Hand me that mic cable, will you?”

  “Sure,” Asher mumbled. He walked over to Julian and handed him the cable, his eyes all the while following Trixie.

  “Asher? You okay?”

  “Never felt better,” he said. Trixie. He was determined to talk to her again. Then they could talk about music, and what she liked to listen to and what she really want to play and hey, who knows? Maybe—

  “Because you just handed me an extension cord.”

  Asher looked back at Julian.

  “Oh. Shit. Sorry. Here,” he said, handing the right cable over.

  Julian looked over to the part of the stage where Asher’s eyes were fixed. Trixie and two other girls were setting up the rest of their equipment.

  “Oh man,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’re already smitten. Which one? That one?” He pointed to the right, toward the slim Latina crew member. “She’s kinda hot.”

  “No, Trixie,” Asher said, liking the way the name rolled off of his tongue.

  “Wait, what? As in Trixie from Cheap Trix? Our opener?”

  Asher beamed. “She’s great!” He turned to see a disapproving look on Julian’s face, and his heart dropped. “What?”

  “Dude, you can chase any tail you like. But she’s our opening act. You can’t hit that.”

  “They’re just opening for us here in San Diego!”

  “Not according to Pat. If we continue on to Europe, he’s saying that they’ll be the ones to come with us. They’re huge over there.” Julian frowned. “He said we might even be opening for them in some places.”

  “Fuck,” Asher said.

  “I know, right? Alex is going to be pissed.”

  Asher shook his head. He didn’t care at all about who opened for who, but he was tremendously bummed that he couldn’t talk to Trixie again. Julian realized that he had just crushed his friend’s first new hope.

  “Hey, plenty of fans out there,” Julian said, putting his arm around Asher and leading him away. “Don’t go after our opening act. Okay? Off limits. You should take it easy after Donna, anyway.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Asher looked back wistfully toward the stage as they walked away. Trixie had her guitar out in front of her, and she strummed the instrument once and leaned forward into the microphone.

  “Check, check. One, two. Check.” Her words came out like honeyed silk, and as she tossed her blond hair behind her it framed her face like a halo of sunshine.

  “Asher? Off limits.”

  “Off limits. Right.” Asher said, blinking hard. Right.

  Off limits.

  The show kicked ass, and Trixie pumped her fists in the air as she came down off of the stage. At the bottom of the stairs she high-fived one of the crew members.

  “Hell yeah!”

  “Hey Trixie, you coming skating after Wilder Side is done?” Jose shouted across the hubbub.

  “Hell yeah I’m coming!” Trixie swung he
r guitar down into its case and shoved it in the pile with the rest of the girls’ stuff.

  What a crowd. A huge mass of sexy California girls and boys, enough skin and sultriness to make even Trixie feel a bit self-conscious about her own body. Whatever. Show was over. Time to relax.

  She signed a few autographs for the fans with backstage passes and went back into the dressing room to change into jeans. When she got out, Wilder Side was already playing onstage. She sat cross-legged on an amp next to Jeff and enjoyed the show. Really enjoyed it. She’d listened to the CD her manager had given her beforehand, but their live set was infinitely better. The lead singer crooned his heart out, and both the guitarist and bass player rocked out. But for whatever reason, she found her eyes being drawn back over and over again to the cute guy playing drums. Ugh! She just had to fall for the dumb one. The guy hadn’t even known who his opening act was, and although Trixie didn’t consider herself to be too arrogant, she was irked that he didn’t know her name. Of course, she didn’t know his name either.

  A slow song came on, a real tearjerker. The singer walked forward to the edge of the stage and reached his hand out towards the audience, swaying to the music. Although the lights dimmed, Trixie could still make out the drummer behind the rest of the band. A low blue spot illuminated his drums, and she watched him as he built up roll after roll, from near silence to a deafening crash as the chorus hit. The crowd cheered and began to chant the singer’s name. Stupid fans. It was the drummer who was doing all the work…if it hadn’t been for that build, nobody would care about the huge emotional payoff at the end. She watched as his fingers seemed to move the sticks effortlessly, flicking the ride cymbal into soft crashes of sound. Perfect tension, perfect rhythm.

  “Who’s the drummer?” Trixie asked, leaning back toward Jose.

  “Uh, it’s something weird. Asher…Circy or Cerqua or something,” Jose said. “Did you hear about their lead singer?”

  “What about him?” Trixie asked. Her mind was still on Asher, her eyes tracking his fingers. Asher. She turned the name over on her tongue. Asher. She realized too late that Jeff was saying something, and she hadn’t been paying a lick of attention.

  “Hello? Hell-o? Trixie?” Jose laughed.

  “Huh, what?” Trixie turned to Jose, who had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

  “The lead singer. The hot lead singer. The super-mega-ridiculous hot lead singer. Rumor is he’s gay.”

  “Really? Maybe if you’re lucky he’ll have a thing for ditzy Mexican twinks.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you?” Jose spun a microphone on his palm. “I’m not a twink. I’m a cub. Big difference.”

  “Whatever, he’s not my type anyway,” Trixie said. “Too flamboyant with the hand waving while he sings.”

  “So you prefer the little drummer boy?” Jeff asked.

  “He’s not little,” Trixie murmured. He was tall…almost too tall. And lean too, that sexy California look where you knew they just had to be a surfer or a skater or maybe both. All skin and muscle and lanky goodness.

  “I think his girlfriend is some Italian supermodel or something,” Jose said. “Heard someone talking earlier about what a huge bitch she was while he was on tour.”

  Trixie’s eyes immediately leapt from the stage to the crowd. Away from Asher. Lord knows she didn’t need to get involved in any trouble with a catty model girlfriend. Besides, he wouldn’t be interested in her. She would have to grow a foot to meet a supermodel eye to eye, and her curves were decidedly un-catwalk-friendly. Oh well.

  “Not my type either,” she said. “Too vanilla.”

  “Really? I thought drummers liked to get rowdy in bed. Beating on ass, all that jazz. And I know you like to be spanked, because—”

  “Alright, Jose,” Trixie said, jumping up and giving him a look that told him enough was enough. “Time to skate?”

  “You know it, baby,” Jose said, tapping Trixie on the ass with the spare microphone. She swatted his hand away. Picking up her board, she cast one last look toward the stage, where Wilder Side was finishing up their final song. Asher’s eyes were half-closed, his long arms moving almost gracefully even as the tempo switched to double-time.

  Vanilla or not, he was super cute. But guys who had girlfriends stayed entirely outside the realm of possibility. She didn’t want to break up a happy or unhappy couple, and she didn’t want to get involved in any drama. Taken guys were strictly off limits, and that included cute drummer boys.

  Off limits.

  The last song ended, and Asher opened his eyes. The San Diego crowd was sick with energy. Crazed girls lunged forward toward the stage, and the security guards held them back. Behind the crowd, the surf broke loudly against the invisible shore. The sky had darkened into a deep indigo while they played, and Asher had been almost in a trance the entire show, thinking only about the one girl he knew he couldn’t touch.

  Trixie, Trixie, Trixie. During their set, he had stayed back after tripping over one of the girls’ guitar cases. Lord, he was clumsy. Their bass player had arched one eyebrow at him in cool condescension, and he’d laughed awkwardly, retreating backstage to watch from afar.

  Trixie. She owned the stage. Most of the time when bands opened for Wilder Side, they assumed a secondary role. The crowd wasn’t there to see the opening act, obviously, and so their sets tended to be less showy, more subdued. But the instant Trixie got up to the microphone, every single pair of eyes paid attention.

  “Hey there, San Diego!” she cried out to the milling crowds.

  “Hey,” Asher murmured back.

  “I said HEY THERE, SAN DIEGO!”

  It was still light outside, and the audience was still trickling in, but at the very least most of the guys turned to see the girl on stage who was shouting at them from the top of her rhinestone-studded heels.

  “This one’s for you,” she said, tossing her hair back. The speakers blasted the audience with a crash of sound as guitar, bass, and drums began simultaneously. The beat was fast, the second guitarist and Trixie fingering their parts in complete synchrony. Even if you didn’t know music, you knew they were talented. Now everybody in the audience turned to listen. The song headed quickly into a nice little riff and Trixie opened her lungs into the mike.

  TAKE ME ON, TAKE ME OUT

  WE GOT ONE LIFE TO LIVE AND I’M LIVING IT UP

  YEAH I’M LIVING IT UP

  TAKE ME OVER ANY WAY YOU WANT

  AS LONG AS IT’S WHAT I WANT

  YEAH THAT’S WHAT I WANT

  She jumped back into a building transition with the rest of the band. Four girls on stage, and each one rocked out harder than Asher had ever seen a band rock out. Forget the skimpy outfits obviously meant to please the eye of the audience—these girls knew how to play, and they were killing it. The drummer’s blond hair flew in a flashy display, and Asher saw her grin to Trixie as Trixie danced back to the edge of the stage. The song built up, built up, and then stopped, the notes hanging in the air as each girl paused in the suspenseful silence. The drummer’s arms were raised, the guitarist and bassist looking up toward Trixie, frozen in front center. Then she jumped up and her feet hit the stage in another wave of sound as the music dropped back into the catchy chorus. When the song finally ended, the audience’s faces were all turned raptly toward the stage. Trixie wasted no time in grabbing the mike.

  “I hear Wilder Side is here all the way from Boston. You know guys,” she said, turning her face partially offstage, “I think I remember reading about Boston today. I think you guys were number two on the city rankings for best craft beer.”

  Scattered hoots from the audience and laughter. They knew what was coming next.

  “Hm, I wonder who’s number one?” she said, putting her chin in her hand wonderingly. The audience went wild, screaming their heads off. So damn cute. Asher laughed, watching her play it up.

  “Let’s show em what we got, San Diego!”

  The crowd shouted as one and C
heap Trix launched into their next song. Asher didn’t pay close attention to the words—something about girls and beer—but instead kept his eyes squarely on Trixie for the rest of the show. Hey, it was good for him. If all he did was pine over a girl who was off-limits, that was just fine. He didn’t need any relationship complications, and spending the rest of the evening luxuriating in the presence of a sexy, curvy blond chick would at the very least get his mind off of Donna. Not that he needed much help doing that. Trixie’s hips kept his mind completely occupied, thank you very much.

  The show ended and Asher helped Julian set up his amps quickly. He wanted to congratulate Trixie on an awesome set, but she ran off backstage as soon as the last song was over and he didn’t see her at all. Oh well. There would always be time afterwards to say congrats. Wilder Side’s show passed by in a blur, and Asher left the stage hoping to find Trixie somewhere backstage. But she was already gone.

  “Hey,” Asher said, catching the blonde drummer as she walked by. “Great set.”

  “Thanks,” she said, looking at Asher skeptically. “You too.”

  “I mean it,” Asher said. “Those fills in the last song were sick.”

  “Thanks!” She swiveled her head. “Sorry, I have to get backstage. My boyfriend’s supposed to be here later.”

  “Yeah. Oh, yeah, sure,” Asher said, realizing that she thought he was hitting on her. “Hey, where’s Trixie? I wanted to say congrats. You guys really got the crowd warmed up.”

  “Sorry, not sure!” She flipped her blond hair behind her and picked up her snare, turning away from Asher definitively.

  Asher sighed. He supposed there would always be another chance when they went on tour together.