RIPPED: A Rockstar Romance (Wreckage Book 2)

by Vivian Lux

  This time the line of laughing emojis seemed to have no end. I laughed too. CeCe knew me. The more freaked out I was, the more confident I made sure I sounded. Bravado like this? She had to know I was quietly shitting my pants.

  I looked back over my shoulder, sweeping a glance over Ewan's sleeping bulk, Niall's lolling head and Hudson's dopey grin before they landed on Jules.

  He was awake. Looking right at me. Silently he lifted his bottle in my direction.

  I turned back, paying him no mind.

  CeCe could know I was shitting my pants.

  But the important thing was making sure Jules Spencer had no idea.

  Chapter Six

  Jules

  "The fuck are we?" Ewan muttered, startling awake.

  I shook my head. "We just keep going deeper into the woods, mate. I'm starting to wonder if this driver isn't taking us off to his mountain hideout to ransom our arses."

  "Your arse would be worth about fifty quid," Niall slurred, not even bothering to open his eyes.

  "Seriously though, where the fuck are we?" I asked, glancing up towards August again. She looked perfectly composed...except for the fact that she refused to look at me. I grinned a little, happy to know that I could rattle her.

  This fucking bus ride had me feeling rattled myself. "I think I just saw Bigfoot," I grumbled, staring at the trees. "Right? That's what it's called?"

  "Bigfoot isn't on the East Coast," Hudson drawled, pulling rank as the lone American in the group. "You might have seen Rip Van Winkle though."

  "The fuck is that?" But I wasn't really interested in an answer, because August had turned her head a little, clearing listening to us. Why the fuck wasn't she joining in the banter?

  "Oh shit, here we go!" Hudson laughed as we turned onto a pitted road that seemed to shoot right up the side of the looming mountain. "This is where his mountain hideout is, Jules."

  "My ass is worth at least seventy-five quid," I told Niall in a mock huff.

  "You're just the drummer though mate, so..." Ewan shrugged. "You're replaceable."

  "Wanker."

  "Aye, there's gonna be a lot of that with CeCe not around."

  "Long as my room isn't next to yours, I don't give a fuck."

  "It's not," August suddenly piped up from the front. I leaned back, oddly pleased that she had been listening. "And it's not rooms, I told you. Everyone has their own separate cabin." She waved her ever-present clipboard. "I bought out the place for us," she declared with a flourish. "And we're here."

  We had indeed come to a stop while I was busy staring at her. "Fucking finally," I grumbled to mask my surprise.

  "Oh, cut the shit," August snarked, seemingly recovered from whatever mood she'd been in earlier. "Finally? We were on the road for two hour. You should be used to that from touring."

  "Love, I dunno if you forgot who you're dealing with here, but we're Wreckage. It's been a long-ass time since we last had to travel by bus."

  She reddened a little, which pleased me. Opening her mouth and then shutting it, she pinched her lips together and then beckoned us with her clipboard. "Come on, boys. Let's go check out your home away from home."

  Groaning and swaying dangerously from the beers we'd been pounding, Ewan, Niall and Hudson got up to follow her out the front. I hung back, playing the role of recalcitrant child, because I knew it gave her so much pleasure to get pissed off at me.

  "Jules! Get the lead out!" she hollered, turning that lovely shade of pink again.

  I grinned, walking up the aisle to stand beside her and inhaling that scent that seemed to cling to her skin. Some girls, they smell simple, one scent only, like flowers or strawberries and shit. August? She had this complicated aroma to her and I couldn't figure out what caused it. If it was her perfume or her shampoo or what. It drove me fucking nuts trying to figure it out what it was and also what elements made it up. How on earth she managed to smell like some mixture of incense and honeysuckle, heavy and sweet.

  Whether by getting her drunk and happy enough to ask her, or by breaking into her cabin and taking stock of her toiletries, I decided right there that I'd find out. I had to.

  She noticed I'd paused near her and lifted her chin in challenge. "Pardon me, love," I grinned, and tried to brush past her, enjoying the feel of her skin against mine.

  But she planted her feet and she stood her ground. "Ladies first," she said, with a prim little arch of her eyebrows. Then, deliberately getting in my way, she stepped out of the bus first, leaving me standing there alone on the bus, shaking my head.

  By the time I got off, she was handing out keycards. "Ewan, you're up the hill a bit. Niall and Hudson, I put you guys closer to the front loop."

  I turned in a slow circle, taking in the tall pines, their scattered needles spread like a carpet over the bare earth around them. The cabins were scattered in a loose ring around a central lawn that spread out from under the shade of the trees. But they were hardly cabins in the traditional sense. More like ski chalets with their steeply pitched roofs and second floor balconies. The quiet was like nothing I'd ever heard before, just the soft rustle of the wind in the pines and the occasional birdcall.

  "Well isn't this lovely," I observed, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Nothing says rock and roll quite like a a peaceful Zen-mountain retreat."

  "I think it's pretty nice," Hudson piped up. "Good job, August."

  "Thank you, Hudson," August said, glaring at me. "If you guys want to go get settled, I'll make sure the luggage is delivered to your cabins."

  I glowered at Hudson. Kiss-ass. "Where's my key?" I demanded.

  "Right here." August dropped the keycard in my palm, being careful not to brush my hand.

  I turned to face her. "I'm bloody starving."

  "There's a restaurant attached to the front office."

  "And I need another drink if I'm going to face the idea of being a bloody mountain man for the next two months."

  "The restaurant has their liquor license, you'll be fine."

  "And my kit?"

  "Will be set up in your cabin. There are no other guests here so you can practice as loudly and obnoxiously as you need to."

  I took a deep breath. "Well love," I said, rocking back on my heels a little. "Seems like you've thought of everything, haven't you?"

  She shrugged, but her proud chin jutted a little as she glared back at me, and I knew she was feeling pretty fucking smug right now. Keeping us all in line like this. "I'm going to go check everything out. I'll meet you boys at the lunch with Jimmy at exactly one PM. Downtime until then, okay?"

  "Bye August!" Niall said, sounding all meek and deferential. "Thank you!"

  I tried not to let my eyes roll back in my head. Was this what we were reduced to? Kissing her ass and falling in line? Rock legends like us? This was rock and roll, baby. Savage. Unpredictable. Completely unmanageable, and she needed to know it. As the rest of the guys staggered - still half in the bag - towards their cabins, I leaned over her shoulder. "Yes, love. Thank you. Looks like you haven't made a single mistake."

  Her head jerked a little and she turned to stare me down. "I haven't," she said, but without her usual bluster. She knew where I was going with this, I could tell by the way her ears flushed red.

  I smiled. "Let me know when you're ready to make one though, kay love?" I pointed to my cabin. "I'll be right over there."

  August

  I stood my ground until Jules finally, finally, smirked a little. He squeezed the keycard in his hand and slowly loped off, his long gait remarkably steady.

  I let out another breath. What the hell? Why did it feel like I wasn't able to breath with him so close like that? It was probably some king of seasonal thing that had nothing to do with Jules himself. I'd read that the pollen count up here was really high from all the goldenrod. That would explain why I couldn't seem to catch my breath.

  I wondered if maybe I needed to go see some rural doctor and get an allergy pill or something.

 
; Once Jules was safely inside of his cabin, I turned to head towards mine. I'd put myself right at the very end, where I could keep track of all comings and goings. It was my job to know what was going on, all the time.

  My cabin was timber-framed and stained a deep, dark walnut color that was beautiful in a sort of rustic way.

  It was also about quadruple the size of my Manhattan apartment.

  I slid the key into the slot and pushed open the door. Stepping inside, I took a deep breath of the musty air that still held traces of woodsmoke and looked around at my home for the next two months.

  The front room was all done up in warm wood and deep reds. An open staircase lead up half a story to a lofted bedroom where a big bed that looked like it had been carved in one piece from some giant oak tree hulked in the center. Off to the left was the door to the bathroom on which hung a white terrycloth robe embroidered with the insignia of the resort. To the right was a small gas fireplace that I could see coming in handy as fall settled in. In front of the fireplaces was a deep easy chair in faded hunter green upholstery, a perfect set-up for reading a book with a glass of wine after a long day of wrangling rockstars.

  It had everything I could ever want.

  Except for my luggage.

  If I didn't have mine, that meant the guys probably didn't have theirs yet either.

  With a sigh, I turned around and headed out and across the lawn to the big, lodge style building that loomed over the cabins like a mother hen protecting her chicks. I pulled open the heavy barn-style doors and stepped into an overly warm great room. A fire, completely unnecessary on a warm September day like today, glowed in the deep stone hearth while above my head a chandelier that seemed to be made from a ring off interlocking antlers sent light upwards to shine on the exposed wood beams on the ceiling above me.

  "You like it?" came a warm, friendly voice.

  I jumped back, not expecting to be observed. Standing in the doorway of some back office stood a man wearing a big, welcoming grin. "Oh, I, uh?" I stalled, unsure of what the heck he was asking.

  He pointed up at the chandelier. "It was my grandfather's," he explained. "The guy must have single handedly culled the white-tailed deer population for a generation. My grandmother got sick of all his taxidermied trophies staring at the guests, so she told him to find another way to display them."

  I grinned warily. "Both decorative and functional."

  He shrugged. "It's been hanging there for fifty years now, so I guess it serves both purposes well." He straightened up and extended his hand. "Eric Casey. My parents own the resort. You must be with the band?"

  "I'm the manager," I said with a toss of my hair. I gripped his warm, dry hand and felt the callouses on his palm. Wrong place, my brain noted. I was used to the calloused fingers of guitar and bass players but this guy had workman's hands. "August Waverly," I went on, "and I just wanted to come by and double check that our luggage is making its way off the bus."

  He smiled, showing brilliant white teeth. His blond hair was clipped close, no nonsense, nothing extra. A far cry from Jules' wild shock of curls. "I'll double check on that with Joey," he said, as if I would know who Joey was.

  "Great," I smiled. I looked down and realized he was still holding my hand.

  "We're super excited to have the band stay with us," Eric enthused. "I was a big fan of Wrecked's first album and..."

  "They're Wreckage now," I interjected, ready to head off any Killian-nostalgia at the pass. I pulled my hand away and brushed it down the side of my thigh. "And based on the non-disclosure agreement I sent up as part of the contract..."

  Eric smiled even wider. "No sweat, Red," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "You're not our first celebrity clients. We know the drill."

  I pressed my lips together and tried to swallow down the hot irritation that tasted like pennies in my mouth. What the fuck was he thinking calling me Red? Jesus fucking Christ, was there no guy in the world who, when confronted with the sight of my hair, couldn't come up with something more original to call me?

  Jules calls me 'love' a small voice piped up in the back of my brain.

  I told it to shut up and glared at Eric who was still smiling and taking up too much space. "I'm glad to hear that," I told him coolly.

  "Two months," he mused. "That's a long time."

  "It's fine."

  "But you're the manager, right?"

  Pride helped wash away the irritation. "I am."

  "So the band will be recording. What will you do?"

  I snorted. "Believe me. I have a ton of work to keep me busy."

  "Well," he said, somehow smiling even wider. "If you ever finish you're work and are looking for someone to take you around and show you the area," he stabbed his thumb into his broad chest, "you know where to find me."

  I blinked at him, slowly, like a turtle. And then it all slid into place. The long handshake, the nickname, the smiling.

  He was hitting on me.

  I looked at him again. Broad, tall, clearly good with people because of his line of work. Family oriented. Confident.

  The absolute opposite of a musician

  This was the kind of guy I wished I would fall for. Right here, practically presenting himself on a platter.

  I forced myself to smile back at him, matching his wide grin with a frenzied grimace of my own. I heard myself say something pleasant and noncommittal, but I was having a sort of out-of-body experience. My tongue was forming the right words, but my brain - bored - had clearly wandered away. I found myself wondering just how many deer had died to make that chandelier.

  Shaking my head to clear it, I smiled even wider. "Sounds like a plan, Eric," I said, unsure if I was repeating myself. "Thank you very much for your help."

  "My please, Red," he said. "Here, let me get that for you.

  I did a double take, and then realized that yeah, he really was racing to get the door for me. He was courteous too. Chivalrous. The kind of guy I should be interested in.

  And yet when I walked past him, deliberately inhaling his uncomplicated, lunary-detergent scent, I felt nothing. No quickening pulse, no pleasant thrill. Just boredom and a kind of low buzz of irritation at him for calling me Red. And smiling. And being fucking...nice.

  Get me the fuck out of here.

  Chapter Seven

  August

  Screaming internally, I turned and headed out and around the building towards the attached restaurant, walking a little faster to put distance between me and Eric's aggressive niceness. I glanced down at my phone. 1:03. Shit, I was late. So much for changing for lunch. I'd wanted to get dressed up, first impressions and all, but I guess I was going to have to conduct business in the T-shirt and yoga pants I'd wore for traveling.

  No big deal. I was ready.

  We were meeting with Jimmy Catanese - the sound engineer and owner of the recording studio - for lunch, as a kind of get-to-know you thing. Back in the city, it had seemed like a good idea to ask him to please meet us at the old fashioned restaurant stuck to the hotel and as I opened the main door, I had a momentary burst of pride at my foresight. This way we didn't have to wrangle cars or timetables. There was no way anyone could be late.

  "Hi boys," I greeted the band as I sat down at the oval shaped table covered in a checked tablecloth. Then I looked again and my heart sank. "He's late?" I asked.

  The three of them looked at each other like schoolboys caught cheating in class. Ewan shrugged, but didn't say anything.

  I leaned back in my chair, the headache that had been lurking in the back of my brain the whole way up here now asserting itself more prominently. "Every minute of time we waste is another dollar the label charges you guys," I reminded them.

  "Hey don't blame us," Hudson protested. "We're here."

  "Yes, you are," I said. "But Jules isn't. And Jimmy's going to be here..." I checked my phone. "Well, fuck, he's already supposed to be here right now. Where the fuck is Jules?"

  Another shrug from Ewan. I glared a
t him. "He's your best mate, right? Can't you keep him in line?"

  Ewan leaned back and raised an eyebrow. "Now lass, you're our manager," he said in his soft brogue. "Isn't that your job?"

  I felt my cheeks redden. I pushed back from the table, making my chair scrape back across the floor. "I'll go get him," I hissed. "He probably passed out drunk on the bed."

  When I booked our cabins, I'd purposefully stuck Jules far away from the others. And as far away from my cabin as I could get him. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but the half mile hike it took me to get from the restaurant to where he was staying had me second-guessing myself.

  When I finally reached the front porch, I raised my hand to pound on his door, but to my surprise I saw his door was propped open with a boot.

  I smiled and took a deep breath as I shoved the door open. "Jules!" I yelled as soon as I set foot into the living room.

  I heard a snort and looked up to see him standing in the loft near his bed. "We have a meeting, get down here!" I barked.

  He turned with the biggest, cheekiest grin on his face and something red in his hands.

  Something red...and lacey.

  "Hey love," he said, coming down the stairs as he held it up to his chest. "Is this my size?"

  "Are you...that's my bra!" I lunged up three steps at once to grab it from him.

  And that's when I saw my suitcase, unzipped and flung open on his bed.

  He deftly ducked out of the way and danced back up the stairs. "Now I don't know much about lingerie, love, but I do like your taste," he chuckled, running his fingers along the straps.

  I lifted my chin. "Give that to me," I said coldly, holding out my waiting hand.

  He shrugged and handed it over with a pout. "I thought I looked pretty."

  "Don't ever violate my privacy like that again."

  "You're the one who came storming into my cabin. Talk about privacy?" He spread his hands and nodded behind him towards my open suitcase. "The porter just brought it over. Lovely bald chap named Joey. I help him unload and he brought it all info me. Guess he I thought it was mine."