He’d refrained from asking Missy how the interview had gone—a fact he was absurdly pleased with himself for. But she’d been overly enthusiastic about helping him pick out a dress, so he had to assume that the job was Gina’s...if she wanted it.
The more time he’d spent in the boutique, the more he was certain Gina couldn’t truly want to work there. It wasn’t her vibe. Not at all like the cozy, casual coffee shop.
Not for the first time, he debated buying her a coffee shop of her own. He’d do it in a heartbeat if he thought she’d accept. But she wouldn’t, and he’d be stuck owning property in Cyrano.
He stopped short on the sidewalk just outside Java Lava’s.
Owning property here. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had. A weird stirring in his chest had him taking a few deep, steadying breaths. Before he could overthink it, he pulled out his phone and shot off a text to Toby telling him to look into investment properties here in town.
Couldn’t hurt to have investment properties, right? It was just good business sense.
He shot off another text to keep an eye out for spaces that could be used for restaurants. Coffee shop spaces, in particular.
Just in case. Obviously. Couldn’t hurt to look.
His imagination instantly started to fill with thoughts of what it would be like to have a home base here. A reason to return. A reason to see Gina again in the future. After the tour, maybe...
He shook off the thoughts and strode into Java Lava’s.
“Aston!” Hattie shouted.
She was a sweet young thing. Too hyper. Way too talkative. But a good egg. And most importantly, she clearly worshipped Gina, a fact that made him think even more highly of her, even if she did talk his ear off every day when he stopped in.
“Did you hear about Mabel’s dog?” she asked.
He smiled. Who’s Mabel? What happened to her dog? Why on earth would I possibly care about this? He settled for, “No, but I have a feeling I’m about to hear all about it.”
She beamed at him and then launched into a tale, all the while making his latte just the way he liked it.
A few other customers had come in, and he was aware of the whispers going on behind him. Any second now one brave soul would come up to him and ask for a photo.
Because he was only half listening to Hattie, he had plenty of attention to spare for the group behind him. There was music playing and Hattie was talking...and clearly they thought they were being quiet because they were talking about him.
Or rather, Gina.
“Really? Little Gina Parker?”
“How did you not know?”
“She’d been dating someone else at the time.” That was said in a low, ominous tone.
He turned to glare over his shoulder, but they didn’t notice him. Apparently they were too caught up in gossip to notice anything at all.
“Figures,” an old woman said with a sigh. “That family was always trouble.”
He stiffened.
“Oh now, Colton turned out to be a fine young man,” someone said.
“And Gina’s always been a sweetheart,” another said.
“Yes, but their father. You remember all the trouble he got into, don’t you?”
“And I’ve heard her boyfriend was such a nice young man. Why, he was good enough to give her a job, and that’s how she repays him?”
“He told Annabeth that Gina broke his heart,” one lady tsked.
Aston’s hands clenched the countertop as he debated which Gina would hate more—the gossip about her and her family, or if he caused a scene by telling them where they could shove their opinions.
“...but don’t worry,” Hattie said as she set his drink down. “The dog is fine now.”
He forced a smile. “Glad to hear it.”
The moment he spoke, the women behind him shut up. Maybe they’d just now remembered he was there.
He leaned over the counter and lowered his voice as he paid. “Hattie, any sign of you-know-who?”
Her nose crinkled at the mention of her boss. “Yes. Unfortunately. He came in yesterday in a horrible mood.” She lowered her voice too. “He brought a woman with him and they looked awfully friendly.” She pulled a face. “I know he’s telling anyone who will listen that Gina broke his heart, but he sure wasn’t acting like a grieving ex-boyfriend to me. When he wasn’t yelling at me and scaring away the customers, he was in the back booth making out with Miss Moneybags.”
Aston arched a brow. “How do you know she comes from money?”
Hattie waved a hand. “I could tell. Plus, I heard him giving her a hard sell about investing in his businesses. Something about a cash infusion, so...yeah. She’s got money.”
He nodded slowly. “Anything else?”
Her smirk was knowing. She knew exactly what he was after. What he’d been after all week.
Another run-in.
Gina might have been fine with letting Billy run his mouth, but Aston wasn’t so forgiving. He wanted revenge on her behalf more than he cared to admit.
Hattie leaned forward. “Billy and Miss Moneybags made plans for dinner tonight at La Rue.”
He arched his brows.
“It’s the only fancy restaurant that’s open this time of year. Two towns over in Clemdale.”
He nodded. “Tonight, you say?”
“I think he said seven.”
A smile was tugging at his lips, and he didn’t need a mirror to know it wasn’t a nice smile. He pulled out a wad of cash and stuffed the whole thing in her tip jar. “You’re a peach, Hattie.” He winked. “I owe you.”
But he owed Gina even more. And tonight he was going to give her everything she didn’t know she needed. Namely? Revenge.
But first…
He tugged his phone out of his pocket and shot off one more text to Toby telling him to dig into Billy and his businesses. This guy would find out soon enough that he’d messed with the wrong people.
Gina deserved better.
And Aston was going to make sure she got it.
Thirteen
Aston Rogue in jeans and a T-shirt was a sight to behold. But in a button-down shirt and a suit jacket, his hair all neatly slicked down like he was some old-school movie star?
Gina couldn’t swallow when he walked into the den.
“Why are you all dressed up?” she asked.
“Because we are going out.”
She blinked. “What?”
He nodded toward the hallway. “Go get ready, we leave in fifteen.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He surprised her by gripping her upper arms and kissing the tip of her nose. “It’s been a long week, you’ve been through a lot. Let me take you out for a nice dinner.”
“B-but—”
“Nope. No buts.” He came behind her, gripped her shoulders, and steered her toward her bedroom. “I got us a reservation at La Rue—”
She gasped. “But that’s—”
“The only nice restaurant open at the moment from what I hear.” His tone was cheerful and hopeful and—
Oh gosh, she couldn’t fight that tone.
She also couldn’t fight his strength as he frog-marched her to her room. “But—”
“I believe I told you the rule on buts.” His voice was teasing now, filled with laughter.
Her heart tripped and twirled in response. When she turned and caught his smile, she lost the battle entirely.
He cupped her face between his palms. “Go. Get changed. Do whatever you need to do, and don’t go overthinking this. I didn’t tell anyone where we’re going, and it’s two towns over so you won’t be surrounded by people you know, okay?”
She nodded. It was all she was capable of.
He was taking her out. On a date.
Kind of.
Sort of.
Wait...was this a date? Did this count as a date even though it wasn’t real?
Probably not.
“Relax, Gina, it’s just dinner,” he ad
ded with another encouraging smile.
Her heart fell. Just dinner. With a friend. Right. Of course it was. She shouldn’t be overreacting like this.
Ugh, this month would be the death of her if she couldn’t get this crush under control.
A little while later she was dressed, and wishing for the first time ever that she’d spent more time and energy on her wardrobe. She’d donned the nicest dress she owned—a simple black one that was good for every occasion, even funerals.
She eyed herself in the hallway mirror with a frown.
What a romantic thought. I wore my best funeral dress. She could just imagine telling that tale to People magazine when they wanted to know all the details of their relationship timeline.
Her nervous little snicker had Aston looking up from his guitar.
“That sounded nice,” she said, nodding toward the instrument.
Nice. What a lame compliment for the magic he was making in her living room.
He smiled, though, like it was the best compliment he’d ever heard. “Thanks. I’ve been making a lot of headway lately, thanks to you.”
“Thanks to me?” Her belly was full of butterflies when he ducked his head, almost like he was embarrassed he’d said that.
“You ready?” he said as he set the guitar to the side.
“As I’ll ever be.” She pressed hands to her fluttering belly.
It was stupid to be nervous, she told herself as they got into his car. They ate together every day, multiple times a day.
And this was not a date just because they went somewhere fancy. He’d said it himself. This was just practice.
“Just practice,” she muttered to herself as he pulled onto the highway.
He glanced over with arched brows. “Practice?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, you know. You’d said before that I need practice. So, that’s what this is, right?”
His lips quirked up. “Sure. Yeah. You can call it that.”
“What would you call it?” she asked.
He turned to face her. “A nice night out with my muse.”
She laughed.
He didn’t.
“You’re kidding,” she said.
His fingers tapped the wheel. “I’m not.”
The silence that followed felt thick and surreal. She’d misheard. She’d misunderstood. He definitely hadn’t called her his—
“Muse is an odd term, I’ll grant you.” He shifted his hands on the wheel. “It feels kind of outdated. Or mystical or something.”
“Isn’t a muse a mystical thing?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nah. A muse is just someone, some thing, or some place that helps you tap into your inspiration.”
“Ah.” She literally couldn’t think of anything else to say to that. Not when her neurons were firing at rapid speed trying to make sense of how she fit into that description.
“Maybe it’s just my house,” she said. “It’s a pretty welcoming environment.”
He chuckled like she’d made a joke.
“Or the high altitude,” she continued. “Some newbies to the area say they’ve hallucinated because of lack of oxygen, so, you know—”
“Gina,” he interrupted.
“Yes?”
“Just take my word for it.” He turned to face her. “It’s you.”
She swallowed hard. “Oh.”
Her inner fangirl was weirdly quiet. Maybe she’d fainted. Heck, maybe she’d had a heart attack and died. If so, she’d died happy.
“So you’re pleased with the new songs you’ve been working on then?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’m on the right track.”
She shifted to face him. “How come I haven’t heard them?”
His smile gave him those crinkles she loved. “You’ve heard some of them.”
“I’ve heard bits and pieces, but never all together and not all the way through.”
“They’re not ready for you yet.”
Not ready for you. Her heart grew ten sizes in a heartbeat. He’d made it sound like…
No, that was stupid. She might be his muse, but he wasn’t writing these love songs for her.
They were silent for a long moment, until she couldn’t take it anymore. Her head was a chaotic mess of thoughts and questions. “What do you mean I’m your muse?”
He glanced over, a smile hovering on his lips. “What do you mean, what did I mean?”
He was teasing her and she narrowed her eyes at him in response.
He let out a huff of amusement and leaned back in his seat. “Remember how I said that I’d forgotten what I’d felt like back then when I wrote that first song?”
She nodded.
His hands shifted again, clenching the steering wheel tighter. “Well, you’ve helped me remember that feeling.”
That feeling.
That feeling of being in love?
She blinked at his profile as her heart wobbled dangerously.
That was the difference, wasn’t it? He’d been in love back then. Or he’d thought he’d been, at least.
Was that what he meant?
No. Her heart raced wildly as she tried to get a grip. That wasn’t what he’d meant. Obviously. She was reading into things. She gave her head a little shake and forced a grin. “I make you remember what it feels like to be young, huh? Because I’m so much younger than you, old man?” she teased.
He let out a bark of laughter. “I’m not that much older than you.” He smiled at her. “And the answer is no. It has nothing to do with age.”
Then what does it have to do with?
Her chest was too tight, her throat choked with emotions, and her head spinning so fast she grew dizzy. She had this sense—this feeling—like whatever he was trying to tell her, it was important. It was crucial.
But she didn’t know how to dig deeper, not when hope was fluttering in her belly and fear was holding her prisoner.
She didn’t know if she wanted to hope.
She didn’t know if she could handle the crushing blow that would come if she let herself hope that he felt more for her and found out she was wrong.
She fell back in her seat as her heart kicked against her ribs.
When had her silly fantasy crush become so freakin’ real? At what point had she stopped being infatuated with Aston-Rogue-the-Rockstar and become smitten with this man? Her roommate. Her friend.
Oh jeez.
This was not good.
She clasped her hands together in her lap to keep from fidgeting and focused on leveling out her choppy breathing. For a moment, she thought the conversation was over. That she would have to go through the rest of the night wondering what he’d meant and trying to summon up the nerve to ask.
But just as they turned off for the Clemdale exit, he continued. “At some point over the last two decades, I sort of...lost myself.” He paused, his expression thoughtful as he muttered, “Or maybe I lost my soul.”
She blinked over at him. “What?”
He gave her a rueful smirk. “That sounds dramatic, doesn’t it? But you know what they say about selling your soul to get your dream?” He shrugged like the rest was obvious.
She held her breath, waiting for him to continue. After a long beat, he finally did.
“When I wrote that song all those years ago, I knew what it was to feel,” he continued slowly, like he was picking and choosing his words carefully. “I was driven and opportunistic, but I also knew who my friends were and I understood the difference between genuine emotions and…” He shook his head, his throat working as he swallowed. “I knew the difference between real and fake. But somewhere along the way, I forgot.”
Gina stared at his profile, afraid to break this spell by speaking.
They talked a lot. All the time. They chatted and they laughed and they even bickered occasionally over stupid things. But she’d never heard him talk like this.
Her heart felt like it might burst at seeing this side of him.
S
he’d known it was in there, but knowing and seeing it were two different things.
“I forgot that not everyone is out for their own gain,” he said. “I forgot that some people truly are generous and thoughtful and kind and loving.” The sidelong glance he shot her made her belly do a backflip. “I forgot that there are people like you in this world.”
Her mouth was dry, her heart pounding so heavily it was drowning out everything else. “And that makes me a muse?”
His smile was slow, crooked, and mysterious. “That’s part of it.”
What’s the other part?
He was killing her here.
Her head fell back against the seat. “Well, I’m happy you’re remembering how not to be jaded and cynical,” she said. “And I’m glad if I could help with that.”
Her tongue felt too heavy, weighed down by all she wasn’t saying. Like how having him in her life was changing her too. For the better. The way she felt around him made her wonder how she’d stuck with any of her exes as long as she had.
How had she convinced herself that what she felt for them was even attraction, let alone something more? Because now she knew what it felt like to come home to someone and feel like it was...well, coming home.
And now she knew what it meant to be looked at like this.
Like she was the center of someone’s world.
She let out a shaky sigh as his gaze met hers and held.
Sweet sugar, that was a dangerous look. A girl could get used to that look.
A girl could fall in love with that look.
He glanced back to the road and his voice lightened. “Looks like we’re here.”
He pulled over to the sidewalk and parked while she tried to regain some semblance of normalcy.
How was she supposed to keep up an evening of small talk after all that?
He came around to her side and opened the door for her. Placing a hand on her back to steer her toward the restaurant. Before they went inside, he stopped just in front. His brow was slightly furrowed, his expression serious as he turned his gaze down to meet hers. “I guess what I was trying to say back there was…” He took a deep breath, his eyes flickering over her face like he was reading everything there. “You are special, Gina. You’re amazing.”
Fake Dating My Rockstar Roommate: A Sweet Standalone Romance (Fake Dates Book 3) Page 12