“Luckily, I have a hundred more where those came from.” She slapped another folder onto the table and flipped it open. Rory grumbled and scratched his forehead impatiently.
“Does this matter? You’re going to set me up with the ones you like anyway,” he reasoned.
He didn’t have time for this. He had important places to be—namely, band practice—and the last thing he needed or wanted was to be sitting in a fancy ass café with hipsters drinking iced-coffee out of mason jars.
He rolled his finger around the rim of the glass, filled to the brim with bottled sugar cane soda, because, apparently, fancy ass people didn’t like regular old soda.
“I could be doing so many things right now,” he muttered.
“But here we are.” Gina narrowed her eyes. “And the more you moan about it, the longer this is going to take.”
She pushed another paper in front of him.
“Her name is Carlene Richardson.” Gina passed him the black and white photo of a girl who looked smart enough—her sleek black hair was pulled into a tight bun on top of her head and her equally dark eyes looked curious and bright.
There was just one problem. “This is the senator’s daughter,” he said.
Gina ignored this. “From her LinkedIn profile—”
“I know her.” Rory flipped the dossier over onto the stack with the rest of the rejects. “And that’s four for four.”
“Surprise, surprise.” Gina cocked him a curious glare. “Are you saying no just because you’re stubborn?”
“Show me number five and I’ll tell you.”
She groaned through her tight-pressed lips. “This is Mary Ellis. You might recognize her from that reality show, Ellis Island?”
Rory picked the photo up off the table and took a quick glance. This girl was prettier than the last, there was no doubt about it. But the way she acted on that show of hers? It was clear all she wanted in life was fame and she’d stop at nothing to get it—including using him. He’d been with women like that and he certainly didn’t need to go there again, least of all in the public eye.
“It’s a no from me,” he said.
“Seriously?” She ripped the file out of his hand before he could have the pleasure of dropping it onto the pile of rejects himself.
“She’s too good for you anyway,” she said defiantly and then met his gaze from across the small café table.
“Too good for me? Have you ever seen that show of hers?” Rory pushed his soda out of the way and leaned across the table. “Picture this: the year is 2050 and Taylor Swift’s daughter is the most famous girl in all the world, and she’s rich as shit too. She gets a show because mommy doesn’t want her to have to take the hard route to the stardom she so desperately wants. Except, of course, baby girl has half the talent and none of the work ethic. Now tell me, is that person someone you think a person who worked their whole life to get a sliver of fame is going to want to spend their time with?” He narrowed his eyes and held up his hands. “More power to her if that’s her path, but I’m not getting involved in it and I’m sure as shit not going to guest star on her show. The answer is no,” Rory said and pushed himself back in his chair.
“Oh my God…” Gina pinched her nose and let out a long breath.
“She’s in the ‘no’ pile. In fact, I’d go as far as saying, hell no.” Rory tore the dossier right down the middle and wadded it up into a ball. “Five for five.”
Gina chewed on her bottom lip and closed her eyes, giving him the distinct impression that she was praying for a higher power to save them both.
Well, let her pray. In the meantime he could sit here and think about his favorite new hobby—making her life difficult.
It wasn’t his fault that her cheeks turned that shade of pink or her mouth puckered more with each successive rejection. And if she was going to put him through this—well, he was going to make damn sure this whole thing was just as frustrating for her as it was for him.
She passed him the next file: Lola Parks. She was a yoga instructor, a believer in the energy of the universe and—
“She’s a vegan?” He raised one brow and shook his head, making sure she was watching him as he held her gaze and dropped the file into the discarded pile.
“And what the hell is wrong with that?”
“I just can’t be with someone who doesn’t share my love of a good burger.”
He slid his glass back in front of him, then began to dance his fingers along the rim, forcing out a melody that he soon found himself bobbing his head along to.
She glowered at him, those red lips puckering into a determined scowl. “Lucky for the both of us, we still have plenty of options.”
Damn, she was cute when she was annoyed.
“Yeah,” he murmured, “lucky me.”
An hour later, Gina was fit to be tied as he dropped a picture into the growing pile.
“Twenty for twenty.” Rory shrugged. “I’m starting to think this might be a waste of time.”
By now, he almost felt guilty.
Almost.
Of course, it might have been easier to be completely guilty if it didn’t seem like all of these options had been selected specifically to torment him. But then, it didn’t help that Gina—calm, collected Gina—was beginning to unravel.
With every “no”, it seemed like the color in her cheeks rose a little higher, her shoulders inching that much closer to her ears. Her hair, which had been so precariously fixed in a bun, was beginning to loosen and fall around her shoulders.
And he liked this new side of her.
He had never quite seen her lose control like this—she was one of those girls who always seemed to have it together, even in times of distress. To see her so off her game?
Well, it made him feel like anything was possible.
Gina forced a fake smile, her eyes glinting with something between determination and madness. “We have one more and I’m sure she’s the one.”
He nodded and pursed his lips. “Probably.”
“Her name is Alexis Sowers.”
“Nope,” he blurted out and crossed his arms. “I’m going to be blunt with you and tell you that I don’t even need to see her photo.”
“H… How…” she stuttered. “You don’t even know—”
“Her last name is Sowers.” He reached across the table, plucked the file out of her hands, and took a quick glance before dropping it off into the land of misfit toys. “Also, her lips are too plump.”
“That would be because she’s a porn star.”
He jerked back in his seat and eyed her suspiciously. “What kind of man do you think I am?”
“Honestly? I’m starting to wonder if you are a man.” Gina sighed.
“Meaning?”
“Specifically?” She thumped the pile of rejects. “You’re telling me that none of these carefully selected, beautiful women even remotely piques your interest? Do you even have a penis?”
“I could show you.” He offered her a sly wink.
“Tempting offer, but no thanks,” she muttered. “There’s clearly something wrong with you.”
“None of these women attract me.” He shrugged, and then added, “And seriously, a porn star?”
“She was a wild card,” she admitted. She leaned across the table to meet him halfway, a flat smile creeping across her lips.
“I feel like you’re just goading me now.”
“You need to get over yourself.” She pushed herself back in her chair and hid her face in her hands.
“I’m the star of the band now,” he said sarcastically. “My ego should be growing completely unchecked.”
“You know what I think?” Gina shot back.
“I think you’re going to tell me.” He cocked an eyebrow.
“We need to work on you before anyone will agree to go out with you anyway.”
“That’s a little rude, don’t you think?” he said.
“You wear band t-shirts and jeans everywhere
and everyday.” She reached across to poke him in the chest. “Bug isn’t the only Galveston who can get a makeover.”
“Do you actually think you’re going to tell me what to wear?” He laughed.
She whipped out her phone and started typing furiously.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, but she didn’t look up until her phone dinged, letting them both know her message—whatever it was—had been sent.
“I’ve canceled band practice this afternoon so we can get started.”
“That’s a no-go from me.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She sent another text. “The car is already waiting.”
She slapped a fifty-dollar bill onto the table atop a receipt that had been sitting there for a good twenty minutes. “And yes, Mr. Ego trip, it has been properly air conditioned for your convenience.”
Rory grumbled under his breath, but there was no point. She was already pulling her hair back into its upright knot, her shoulders were easing back into their regular, confident position, and her cheeks had cooled to her normal, creamy porcelain.
She thought she’d won.
And maybe she had.
He looked over to the pile of women beside him, each photo attached to a dossier beneath them. His teeth sunk into his lip as he considered the thought that maybe there was something wrong with him.
After all, he hadn’t been lying when he’d told Gina he wasn’t attracted to them. And to go through so many options without a single, curious thought? Eh. That was Gina’s problem. Not his.
Gina swung her purse over one shoulder and swiped her phone from the table. “I feel the urge to remind you that your band needs you to take one for the team.”
She climbed to her feet and pushed her chair underneath the table. “If you’re not going to do this for yourself, then do it for them.”
“Fine,” he said and rose to join her. “But I’m doing this for the team. Not for me.”
“Believe me, I’m aware.” She gestured with a nod toward the door. “Now let’s go. We have a long day.”
He groaned under his breath as he followed her out of the fussy café, though he couldn’t help but to note the way her hips swayed in the white dress that clung to her body.
Maybe she ought to take one for the team…
He tried to push the thought away, but it clung to the edges of his mind, niggling at him. He’d spent a solid hour staring at women, feeling nothing, and now a two-second glimpse at Gina’s ass had him hard and aching?
Not good. Not fucking good at all.
He had already watched his best friend and his sister nearly destroy the band by mixing business and pleasure. They had all gotten lucky—extremely damn lucky—and somehow things had worked out. But things could have gone differently.
He had to get his head on straight—both of them—and put things into perspective. All he had in this world was Sub-Zero—he wasn’t about to risk that, least of all for a woman.
Chapter 4
After what felt like a torturously long ride, they pulled up in front of a wide, golden building in the heart of Fifth Avenue.
“Is this strictly necessary?” He glanced down at his T-shirt and frowned. “I’m a rock star, not a congressman.”
“That doesn’t matter. You need to make a good impression.” With a muttered oath, he followed Gina’s lead as she skirted from the limo, climbed the vast stone steps, and pulled open the Gatsby Parlor’s tall glass doors.
“Why do I feel like I’m walking on diamond floors?” Rory murmured from behind her, his fingers closing over the wide, golden door knocker as he held the door for her and motioned for her to go ahead.
Grudgingly, she stepped inside and grinned at the gleaming racks of Armani and Versace displays. All soft, beautiful fabric. Nothing for him to turn into his newest—and shiniest, percussion set.
Perfect.
But then, naturally, he began to drum his fingers against the white, lacquered walls, all the while beatboxing under his breath.
She sighed, but decided that was one battle she didn’t have the power to face—at least not now.
“So what’s your plan?” he asked, but before she got the chance to answer, a pristine-looking woman in a deep purple business suit stalked toward them, her stilettos clicking out a thunderous beat on the marble floors.
She twisted in front of a rack of belts to find Rory now drumming against a tall, glass showcase housing diamond watches. The rhythm of his fingers intensified, creating a symphony of noise that stole the attention—and a disapproving glare from the straight-faced attendant.
“Miss Saldano, lovely to see you again. Mr. Galveston,” the woman’s gaze swept from Gina to Rory and then focused on him, “It is such a pleasure to welcome you to our boutique. My name is Marsha. How can I help you today?”
Rory looked up, apparently surprised to have been addressed by name. “Hi, did we have an appointment?”
Marsha’s bright smile widened. “No, but of course, I know who you are.”
“Right. Never get used to that. Nice to meet you.” He narrowed his eyes on the woman’s name tag. “Marsha. That’s a beautiful name.”
For the first time all day, he offered her a charming smile—a genuinely charming smile.
“Quite the flirt we have here.” She threw her hand to her chest and smiled.
“You know, I haven’t seen that side of him.” Gina glared at him out of the corner of her eye. “Today, anyway.”
There were now two women standing next to Rory with flushed cheeks. One of them was red because apparently Rory could be charming.
Who knew?
You knew, you big phony, a voice inside her head whispered.
It was true. There had been a time or two that she’d nearly fallen for Rory’s casual, almost understated charm. It wasn’t big or bold like Dev’s, but it crept up on you, like a quiet storm.
Goosebumps rose on her arms and she cleared her throat as Rory scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck nervously. Gina took this as her cue to step in.
“We’re looking to revitalize Mr. Galveston’s wardrobe. Maybe something a little more cutting edge? Could you help us find some options?”
“I’d be happy to. Please, follow me.” The woman motioned and started clacking over to what Gina was sure would be the most expensive section of the store—a saleswoman like that knew a whale when she caught one—and Gina followed behind Rory, taking the opportunity to check her messages as they went.
The first notification was from Cheri and it included a photo of her chugging a large, pink margarita through an oversized straw with the caption, Hope your day is as good as mine, lol.
She rolled her eyes, half tempted to tap out an expletive-filled message back, but her attention was soon stolen by the raucous sound of hangers clattering against a mirror.
She shot Marsha a quick glance before rushing toward the back of the store where she spotted Rory double-fisting hangers and using them as drumsticks against an impeccably clean mirror.
“Rory,” she whispered as she approached him.
She had no problem ripping the first of the two hangers out of his hand. The second proved to be a problem as he pivoted on his foot and twisted away from her.
“If you don’t stop that—”
“What are you going to do?” he taunted her, then took a step closer, boxing her in against the nearest rack as the full height of him made her crane her neck with a defiant glare. This close, she could smell his inexpensive cologne—but for some reason, nothing about the smell made her want to hit the next aisle for an upgrade.
It was practical and fresh and clean. All Rory. And, also not unlike Rory, she loathed…and strangely liked the woodsy scent all at once.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to tie your hands behind your back.”
“I could say the same to you.” His eyes gleamed with a dark challenge and she surveyed the slight tick of his jaw as his gaze roved over her. “Say, do you think any of your car
efully curated girls are into stuff like that?”
“Off the top of my head?” She rolled her eyes, trying to break herself from the spell his proximity had cast on her. “I can’t remember.”
He crossed his arms and moved even closer, making her heart skip a beat. “I bet Miss Sowers would like it,” he teased.
Then, apparently not taking the hint, he went on, “How much research did you do?”
“I didn’t watch her videos if that’s what you’re asking,” Gina hissed.
A slow smile spread over his chiseled lips. “Damn shame if you ask me.”
“If you don’t mind, this is a high-end establishment.” She grabbed him by the shirt, caught a glimpse of her reddened complexion in the mirror behind him, then pushed him away. “An establishment that I have a reputation in, so if you could please stop talking about—”
Marsha approached, clearing her throat once she came to the silver-lined couch in front of them.
“Everything all right, Miss Saldano?”
Gina’s lips folded into a polite smile as she turned to the attendant. “Fabulous.”
She clasped her hands together in front of her, glancing from Rory to Gina and back again. “Anything I can do to help?”
When nobody answered, Marsha eyed them up and down, scratched her fingers against the bottom of her pointed chin as she calculated. “Right then, time to get back to business.”
She pointed at Rory. “Thirty-inch waist, thirty-two-inch hem.” She turned to Gina. “Why don’t we start with the pants?”
“I trust your instincts.”
“Feel free to look around while I gather some options.”
Gina watched Rory carefully. He was still watching Marsha as she slung one pair of slacks over her shoulder and reached for another.
“She’s kind of cute,” he mused out loud, nodding toward the other woman. “In a sort of take control, ice princess kind of way.”
Hard Sell: A Bad-Boy, Rock Star Romance Page 3