The Fire Walker: A Rock Star Romance

by Amity Cross

  “Yes.” There wasn’t anything else to say.

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.” It seemed like we both knew exactly what we wanted in life, and that turned me on more than I knew it would. Jessie seemed very driven and focused on her career, so much so it was a little intimidating. “What’s your tattoo?” I asked, letting my gaze run over her arm.

  “Flowers,” she said. “Honeysuckle and butterflies.”

  “And the other one?”

  She fingered the collar of her shirt, pulling it aside so I could see, sending my body into overdrive. “It’s a skull and crossbones.” She laughed as I took in the ink over her heart. “Very original. What are yours?”

  “Sugar skulls, pinups, stars, spider webs. You know, bloke tattoos.” She laughed at my abrupt description. “What?”

  “I like how you say bloke. You sound very Australian when you say it. Bloke.” She tried to mimic my accent without much success. She just sounded more French, which drew me in even more.

  I felt a grin spread across my face. I liked her. I really fucking liked her. It was way more than a physical thing, and I found myself hoping that she felt it too. Who cared if she lived in New York, and I lived in Melbourne? Who fucking cared? I’d make it work for a woman like Jessie.

  “Oh, shit,” she cursed, looking at her watch. “It’s getting late, and I have a meeting tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” I tried not to sound disappointed. I wasn’t ready to let her go yet. It felt like I’d hardly scratched the surface.

  I paid for dinner and walked her to her door like the gentleman I was, and I was about to say goodnight and sneak a kiss on her cheek when she came out with a cracker.

  “Dee… Why’d you ask me out?”

  She was looking at me with her big, beautiful eyes, and I just had to say it.

  “Because”—I waved my hand between us—“there was something there.”

  “Was?”

  “Is.”

  “Oh.” She fumbled for her key card and slid it into the lock, the little light flashing green. Before it closed behind her, she gave me a small smile. “Thanks for dinner.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The door closed between us, and I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing. Backing away down the hall, a part of me that I didn’t want to acknowledge knew that I had.

  Chapter 8

  Jessie

  Lying on the hard hotel bed, the only thing I could think about was Dee fucking Cosgrove.

  Dee had this thing about him that went with the word fucking, and it was exactly how it sounded.

  He was just a nice, sweet guy. Total opposite of the whole rock star manwhore stereotype. Still, my thoughts went to that place. You know, the one where he had me up against the wall, hands in all the right places, saying incredibly dirty things to me? Yeah, that one.

  My cell started ringing and vibrating across the bedside table. I glanced over with a groan at the late hour and saw the name on the screen, and to my surprise, my heart skipped a beat.

  It was Dee.

  We’d exchanged numbers last night at the gig. It had only been an hour since he left me at my door, and I wondered what his game was. I took a deep breath and picked up the phone, trying to squash down my dirty thoughts.

  “You know I’m only two floors down,” I said and instantly regretted it. I couldn’t see him right now because I’d ask him to do me against the wall.

  “I know, but I’m old-fashioned like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “If I showed up on your doorstep in the middle of the night, you’d think I was only there for one thing.”

  “Oh.” I squeezed my legs together and was glad he was on the phone and not on the edge of my bed.

  “You weren’t sleeping, were you?”

  “No.” How could I sleep when I was thinking about him all goddamned night?

  I heard him chuckle, and my face reddened.

  “What do you want?” It came out defensive.

  “I just wanted to talk,” he replied slowly. “I like talking to you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “It’s just guys usually want to talk to me for one reason.”

  “Sex?” He asked so outright it almost made me choke. “It’s okay, Jessie. I don’t just want to talk about sex.”

  What more could he possibly want to know? I mean, I hadn’t known him for very long, and some things would always remain buried. Who didn’t have complicated, scarring relationships these days? I had someone who’d hurt me beyond repair, and he probably did, too. It was just the way things went.

  “Then what do you want to talk about?” I asked quietly.

  “Anything. I don’t care.”

  He was into me. Of course, I knew since it was in everything he did, and every word he spoke was laced with sex. My body wanted it, but my mind was apprehensive.

  After all his wicked and sweet words, he hadn’t tried it on once. He said previously that he was old-fashioned, and he hadn’t presumed that our date would end with a quick fuck on my hotel bed. How was he not taken?

  “You want to talk about anything?” I asked. “That’s a wide range of topics.”

  “I know. I just want to hear your voice.” And then he said things like that.

  “How did you start playing guitar?” I asked, ignoring his blatant comment.

  “Well,” he replied slowly, “I went to a public high school. We didn’t have any sports teams or anything like that. We were lucky to have a music program, and even then, kids had to pay to take lessons. I conned my parents into letting me learn guitar. One, because chicks dig guys with guitars…” I let out a laugh at his lame joke. “And two, because I wanted to get out of class.”

  “Really?” He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d skip out on anything.

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes, honestly.”

  “True story.”

  “What about now?”

  “Now? I’m glad I wanted to get out of class.”

  I closed my eyes and let his sexy Australian accent wash over me. I didn’t want to put my phone on speaker. I wanted to press it right against my ear like he was whispering to me. Like his lips were against my skin…

  “Jessie? Are you still there?”

  Shit. “Yeah. I’m here.”

  “What were you thinking about?” he asked wickedly like he knew my mind had gone right between my legs.

  “Tomorrow,” I replied quickly.

  “What’s tomorrow?”

  “It’s my last day in LA before I have to go home.”

  “To New York?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you doing?”

  I knew what he was trying to do. Worm his way even further into my life so I couldn’t say no. “I have a meeting at the Galaxy offices in the morning.”

  “What about the arvo?”

  I gathered arvo meant afternoon, and I knew he had me. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m taking you to the beach.”

  “Are you just?” I scoffed playfully.

  “C’mon, Jessie.” The way he said my name made me squirm. “We can go to the beach, hangout, have some dinner.”

  “I don’t know…” I began, but he interrupted me.

  “No expectations.”

  No expectations? Before I could back out, I said, “Pick me up at the hotel at three.”

  And just like that, I flung myself further down the rabbit hole.

  Chapter 9

  Dee

  No expectations.

  I could sense Jessie pulling away, and the words came out of my big mouth before I could stop them. I thought about the way my body had reacted to her presence, and a sliver of desperation had set in.

  I wanted her.

  I wanted her bad.

  I had no idea how to show it without it ending the same way as every other relationship I’d had. With the ‘it’s me, not you’ speech. It seemed like I was the
only guy left in the world who wanted an equal partnership with the woman of his dreams. Every fucker out there wanted to own a woman like property, and the notion didn’t sit right with me at all. If that was how an alpha male was meant to act, then what came after that? Beta, I suppose. That was me.

  Talking with Jessie on the phone last night had taken away the physical attraction, and I could just talk to her without all of that getting in the way. I was glad I’d grown some balls and dialed her number because I was taking her out again this afternoon. It was fucking cheeky, but it had paid off.

  My phone buzzed with a text, and I laughed when I saw the message from Zoe.

  We’re going to Disneyland. Wanna come?

  Zoe and Disneyland were two things that didn’t seem to mesh well.

  I texted back, I think I’ll be right. Got stuff to do.

  What stuff?

  Just stuff.

  Oooookkkkkkaaaayyyy. *Wink wink*

  When three p.m. rolled around, I stood outside Jessie’s door staring at the number again.

  Get a grip, Cosgrove, I scolded myself.

  I knocked, and the door opened a moment later.

  “Hey,” Jessie said brightly.

  She was wearing little denim shorts, and my gaze glued to her legs as I imagined them around my waist.

  “Up here,” Jessie declared.

  “Sorry.” The moment she turned her back, I adjusted the front of my jeans.

  “You’re punctual. I’ll give you that.” She shoved her phone into her pocket and closed the door behind her.

  I shrugged. “If I say I’m gonna do something, I do it.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Wow.”

  “Wow, what?”

  “A guy who does the stuff he says he’s going to. That’s a rare beast.”

  I grinned, pressing the button to the elevator.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Venice beach.” I shrugged.

  “Venice beach?”

  “I don’t know any others.”

  “No, sounds fun, actually. I’m sure there’s lots to do.”

  Because I didn’t have a car and didn’t want to subject Jessie to public transport, the doorman hailed a taxi for us out the front of the hotel. We slid into the back seat, and the driver took off at breakneck speed. Jessie didn’t bat an eyelid, so I assumed this was normal for a cabbie in these parts.

  “How was work today?” I asked to break the silence.

  “Oh, it was okay. Pretty boring, actually.”

  “What do you do exactly?”

  “Well, being the intern, I get to do all the exciting stuff. Like, take minutes, get coffee. You know, all the important decisions fall on my shoulders.”

  “Without you, the entire label would crumble.”

  “Something like that.”

  Before long, the taxi pulled up at the beach, and we wandered straight down to the sand. Jessie bent over and pulled off her boots. Sinking her bare feet into the sand, she curled her toes.

  “Oh, man,” she said with a sigh. “This feels nice.”

  I followed suit and yanked off my own boots, letting the warm sand trickle between my toes. “Let’s go down to the water.”

  Walking along the beach with Jessie was nice. It felt right being here with her.

  “It reminds me a little of the beaches in Queensland,” I said. “Wide, long, white sand. If you can ignore the city at your back, that is.”

  “Do you surf?” she asked, and I made a face, my toes curling in the sand.

  “Not everyone from Australia surfs.”

  “Why not?”

  “Firstly, it’s a stereotype, and secondly, I live in Melbourne. It’s not really the center for seaside living.”

  “What’s it like in Melbourne?” I loved the way she said Melbourne. Sounding out all the letters. Mel-bourne.

  “Well, to be a Melbourneite, you need to say it the right way. It’s Mel-bin.”

  “But it’s not spelled that way,” she complained, putting her hands on her hips.

  “To be an Aussie, you need to drop eighty percent of your letters, and make up the rest.”

  “You do say some strange things.” She tiptoed out into the water, her boots in her arms.

  “Like what? Give me an example.”

  “Arvo. What’s an arvo? I gather you mean the afternoon.”

  I laughed, following her to the edge of the water, the tips of the waves running up the shoreline covering our feet. Every time it receded, it would drag the sand out from underneath me, my feet sinking further and further under.

  “And sunnies,” she went on. “Everything seems to end in an ie or an o—like you can’t be bothered saying the entire word.”

  “It’s not that I can’t be bothered. It’s a laid-back thing.” I kicked some water, and it splashed against her legs.

  “Hey.” She kicked back, splattering water and sand all over my legs and rolled-up jeans.

  “Hey, these are my last clean pair of jeans,” I exclaimed and ran forward, picking her up around the waist and spinning her around. “I’ll dump you in!”

  Jessie let out a squeal of laughter, her fingers digging into my shoulders. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Oh, yeah?” I let her slip a little in my grasp, and she shrieked again, but my expression fell the instant I realized her face was mere inches from mine. I could feel the entire length of her body pressed against mine and the curve of her breasts against my chest. It was a perfect kiss moment, but I set her down gently and stepped away. Why the hell did I just do that?

  She glanced down at the water, tucking her hair behind an ear. I couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but that little furrow between her eyebrows said it all.

  “Are you hungry?” she said after a moment.

  I nodded.

  “There was a food cart back up there a bit. We can get a burger and sit outside if you want.”

  “Burgers again?”

  She shrugged. “What can I say? My stomach is easily pleased.”

  “Sure. Whatever you like.”

  I held her boots while she washed her sandy feet under a tap, and being a typical guy, my gaze ran the entire length of her body. Her long, almond, toned legs, the curve of her ass, her long neck. It would be so easy to take her hand in mine, tug her to me, and kiss that little spot right underneath her ear.

  She tiptoed over to me and took her boots and pried mine from my unresponsive fingers. How couldn’t she know the things she did to me?

  “Your turn,” she murmured.

  Blinking hard, I stuck my feet under the running water, and I imagined what I’d be like if she was looking at me the same way. She’d relaxed a lot since the other day, but there was still this wall of professionalism. Maybe that was what was stopping me? The fear of crossing some invisible line…the point of no return.

  Pulling my boots back on, we walked down the boardwalk and found the burger cart Jessie had seen earlier. She was definitely not like other women. No fancy restaurants or flash clothes. No pretenses. She was just real.

  Burgers in hand, we found a bench near the water, and I straddled one end and she the other with our food and drinks in between. Cherry cola and cheeseburgers. I suppose it was another traditional American dish. As we ate, we watched the ocean as the sun set, eating our second fatty meal in as many days, laughing and swapping stories about the bands we’d seen play. It was great to talk with her about something that was so sacred to me and have her understand so completely. It was the same for her.

  We fit. Couldn’t she see that?

  “You’d love New York,” she was saying. “There’s so much stuff going on underground. Punk, indie, trance. All kinds of stuff. It’s a hard town to crack, though. It’s still a very cliquey place. If you know someone who knows someone, you can get in just about anywhere. Don’t ask me about the ivy places, though.”

  “Ivy places?”

  “The rich hangouts. You know, like Gossip Girl on acid. Not my
scene.”

  “Uh, not my thing, either. I’d rather hang out at a gig or a pub somewhere.”

  “We don’t really have pubs in the city.”

  “An old man bar then.”

  She screwed up her nose.

  “No doof doof.” I waved my hands around.

  “Doof doof?” Jessie laughed like I was insane.

  “The David Guetta vs. Lady Gaga mega mix.”

  She laughed, slapping a hand over her mouth. “It’s a bit like that, right?”

  “Couldn’t think of anything worse than being Auto-Tuned.”

  “A man after my own heart.” Shit, was I ever.

  It was almost over. It felt like a whirlwind summer romance but without the kissing and hot sex. Knowing that she was leaving tomorrow and I still hadn’t come clean about what was growing inside my chest, was eating me up. Really, what had we been doing? When it boiled down to it, I had feelings for her. Not the lust-filled connection I’d felt on that last day of recording, which seemed so long ago already, but something deeper. Something scary and dangerous that had me wanting to hold on and not let go. It had slammed into me so fast it was totally fucking insane.

  What was a guy to do? Lay it out. That was what.

  “Jessie, I know you’re leaving tomorrow, and I don’t know what I’m fucking doing, but I have to tell you. I can’t not tell you.” I took a deep breath. “I like you. Like, really like you, and I don’t know how else to say it without sounding like a crazy person.” She was staring at me, her expression unreadable. “I don’t want this to end here.” I steeled myself for the inevitable.

  Downing the last of her cherry cola, she said, “We better go back.”

  And there it was.

  I dumped the rubbish in the bin, and we walked down the boardwalk in silence, our boots thudding against the wood, this horrible black hole opening up inside me.

  In the taxi on the way back to the hotel, neither of us said a word, the air heavy with what I’d said.

  All the way back up to her floor in the elevator was a painful kick in the gut. Knowing that this whole thing could have been so one-sided made humiliation flare like a white-hot flame. Me, humiliated? Add this one to the pile of rejections, and it would sit there like a cherry on top of the proverbial strawberry milkshake. I would never be able to look at one of those in the same way ever again.