Mr. October: A Rock Star Romance (Calendar Boys Book 10)

by Nicole S. Goodin

“Kind of freaking out.” He all but rolls his eyes. “Sugar, you’re way past that.”

  “Sorry,” I squeak as I glance out the window.

  I don’t know how he’s so calm. This movie premiere isn’t just any movie – it’s starring some of the biggest names in the world.

  People so famous I want to puke. People like him.

  He might be used to rubbing shoulders with the planet’s rich and famous, but I’m not. I’m a nobody.

  “I shouldn’t be here, I don’t belong,” I say on an exhale, my voice barely audible.

  He leans forward in his seat where he sits, facing me, Ange at his side.

  He looks so fucking handsome in his tux. I never would have expected it, given how good I think he looks in ripped jeans and a faded tee, but hell, he wears the shit out of that thing.

  Ange nudges his side. “I think I should run her through it.”

  “No,” he snaps. “She’s got this.”

  I’m really not sure I do, but his confidence in me is reassuring.

  “Look at me,” he demands, and my eyes fly from his chest to his face. “You think I belong here?”

  I nod.

  He shakes his head.

  “You do,” I argue. “You’re talented, you have something to offer these people. I’m just some girl someone picked out in an office.”

  I know Ange is watching us, the furious scribbling of her pen is absent, but I can’t pull my eyes from his to check.

  He reaches out and my hands meet his without even thinking about it.

  “It wasn’t just someone who picked you, sugar.”

  I swallow deeply, hung up on his every word.

  “It was me. I picked you. I picked you because I wanted you here. Because you should be here. Because you belong.”

  This is the most he’s ever said to me. It’s the closest he’s ever come to letting me believe he might feel something for me even remotely close to what I’m starting to feel for him.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  “I won’t leave your side. The whole night.”

  “You promise?” I ask quietly as the car pulls up to a stop.

  “Fucking promise.”

  He grips my hands tighter and then his door is opened, and the flashing lights start going wild.

  He slides out of the car, the hand reaching back for me the only part of him I can see.

  Ange is looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and shock.

  “What?” I whisper as I check I’m covered in all the right places; the last thing I need is a boob slip when half the world is probably watching.

  She shakes her head. “It’s just… he’s different with you.”

  That’s all I get out of her before Masen’s head appears back in the car, impatient as ever.

  “You comin’ out of there?”

  I nod, eager to be closer to him, and he winks at me, fucking winks, his dark glossy hair falling in his eyes.

  I suck in a breath as he gently coaxes me from the car.

  I stand, a little wobbly on my feet as the enormity of what I’ve just stepped into becomes obvious.

  There are people everywhere, and they’re all screaming Masen’s name.

  It’s crazy.

  I can feel Ange mucking around with the back of my dress and I go to glance over my shoulder, but Masen catches my jaw between his fingers, halting me.

  “She’s got it,” he whispers, for only me to hear.

  He holds my face so close to his and that familiar warmth settles in my belly, setting me on fire in only a way he seems to know how.

  He leans in and I gasp. I never expected him to kiss me in front of all these people, but he does, god he does, and when his lips leave mine, I’m breathless.

  “I’m really glad you’re here with me, sugar,” he murmurs.

  I smile against his lips.

  It’s probably the nicest thing he’s ever said to me, and it had nothing to do with my ass or my shorts, so it’s probably the most genuine too.

  I swear he smiles back, but he’s too close for me to really tell, and before I know it, I’m being led, Masen’s hand in mine, down the red carpet to the photographers, who are all yelling, trying to get Masen to look their way. He stops for no more than ten seconds each before moving on – this isn’t his first rodeo, that much is clear.

  Each time he pauses, I’m tucked against his side and his eyes find mine, not the lens they’re all begging him to look at.

  He’s looking at me in a way that makes goosebumps break out on my skin as we stop again, posing for yet another picture. I don’t even know what I’m doing, I just know I can’t take my eyes off his long enough to even smile.

  “Did I tell you how fucking perfect you look in that dress?” he asks and my heart thumps erratically against my rib cage.

  I give my head a small shake.

  The ‘fucking hell, sugar’ that he choked out when I came downstairs and he saw me for the first time gave me a pretty good indication that he liked what he saw, but those words he’s just said now, they’re even more welcome to my ears.

  “Well you do,” he whispers, tugging me closer, and I don’t know how, given that we’re surrounded by people, but he makes me feel like it’s just the two of us.

  “Two compliments in one evening, better watch out, someone will get wind that you’re a big softy on the inside.”

  He grins, but it’s not sweet, it’s menacing, and hell if that doesn’t get me more hot and bothered than his tender side.

  “You think I’m soft, sugar?” he teases, his big warm hand pressing into the small of my back, pulling me even closer to him.

  I nod slowly, caught up in what he might do next.

  “Better show everyone how bad I really am then,” he growls as he captures my mouth in a kiss so hot I melt against him, my perfectly manicured nails digging into his shoulders.

  I hear shutters clicking and people screaming in excitement, but all I can really focus on is him, the music world’s bad boy.

  He breaks the kiss, his chest heaving as he dips his head to rest his forehead against mine.

  “Well, fuck,” I mutter.

  He pulls back, holding me so he can search my face – oblivious to every person calling his name – did you just say fuck, sugar?”

  “I did.”

  A slow grin spreads across his face and, wow, it’s the most spectacular thing I’ve ever seen, I’m rendered speechless by it, in fact.

  He chuckles and tucks me back against his side, his arm coming around me.

  Holy shit. Masen Lennox just smiled. At me.

  I swallow deeply.

  One single smile and I know for sure… I’m completely in love with him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Masen

  I glance at her over the top of the book I’ve been pretending to read for the past half an hour.

  I need time to think, to process, and I need to be away from her to do it, but every time I contemplate walking away, my feet don’t move.

  I’m stuck. Stuck here looking at her in that tiny pink bikini.

  I can’t even escape to my room because it still smells like her. Her dress is thrown over the chair in the corner and her underwear is left torn on the floor.

  That’s not exactly the space I need… fuck, I’m hard again just thinking about it.

  “Why don’t you ever take your shirt off out here?” she asks absently, and I lower the book further.

  She’s got dark shades on, and I can’t tell if her eyes are open or closed.

  “What?”

  “I’ve been here what? Two months? And not once have I seen you with your shirt off.”

  I cock a brow at her, and she blushes a deep red.

  “You know what I mean.”

  I shrug. “I’m not Josh, I don’t feel the need to parade my shit all over.”

  She sits up, tucking her long, lean legs beneath her. “Masen Lennox, are you self-conscious because of Joshy’s rock-hard six-pack?”


  I scowl at her. “Fuck no.”

  “You are.” She giggles like it’s the funniest joke she’s ever heard, and I have to fight to keep the corners of my mouth from turning up.

  “I am fucking not,” I bite back, sliding to the edge of my lounger and throwing my legs off the side so I’m facing her.

  “What’s the problem then, big shot?”

  I smirk. “You ever seen any tan lines on me, sugar?”

  She thinks about it for a moment before shaking her head slowly, cautiously, as though she might be walking into some kind of trap.

  I lean in closer and she mimics me automatically.

  “Think about that for a minute.”

  She narrows her eyes at me and frowns. “The only way to get no tan lines would be to walk around nude.” She huffs out a laugh before realisation dawns as a devious smirk grows on her face. “Oh well, by all means, don’t let me keep you from what you’re used to.”

  She pulls the shades from her face and tosses them onto the towel next to her like she’s ready for a show.

  I shake my head and push forward so I’m hovering over her.

  She gasps and falls back, I move closer again, not willing to give her an inch.

  “What do you think would happen if I started taking my clothes off, huh?” I rake my eyes over her barely-covered body, and she shudders. “You think we’d still be sitting here relaxing?”

  She reaches up, her palm sliding across my t-shirt-covered chest and around the back of my neck. “I hope not,” she breathes.

  She tugs, hard, and I fall onto her, our mouths meeting in a flash.

  Shit, she feels too good, smells too nice, tastes too fucking sweet…

  “Get a room, dude.” Josh’s voice comes from behind me, and I groan.

  Billie’s ankles are crossed behind my back and when I stand, she comes with me, gripping my neck like a vice as I sit us down on my lounger.

  Josh watches us, a wide, easy smile on his lips.

  He likes me and Billie together, I can tell. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do about that when this is all over, but I’ll worry about that later.

  I’ve got no space in my head for anything else right now.

  His eyes flick from mine to Billie’s. “You better get in there. She made me buy her every gossip magazine known to man and she’s tipping them fucking everywhere.”

  Billie frowns, and I study her closely, totally engrossed in the way her features move when she speaks. “What? Who?”

  “Your BFF. Thanks for spilling your guts about me being rich by the way, that was a real dick move.”

  I watch as she rolls her eyes. “No, making a poor student pay for all your food was a dick move, but that’s not the point, why is she collecting that trash?”

  Josh chuckles, and a part of me hates the way they interact so effortlessly, so fucking easily, like they’ve been friends for years.

  “You’re on the cover of damn near every magazine, FG.”

  Her back straightens. “Shut up, I am not.”

  “You are.” He chuckles as she scrambles from my lap. “Looking like a stone-cold fox, I might add.”

  “Thank you, Joshy.” She smiles as she passes by him, her sexy ass swaying all the way into my house. He high-fives her, and I have to stop myself from giving him a warning about touching what’s mine again.

  I lay back on my seat, throwing on my sunglasses once she’s out of sight, and wait for him to come and hassle me – he’s bound to, it’s what he does best.

  “Never thought I’d see the day.” He chuckles as he takes his position on my left.

  And here we go…

  “What’s that?” I drawl lazily.

  “The day you finally caught feelings for a chick. I gotta say, man, I didn’t think it was gonna happen, but she’s good for you – shit she might even be the best thing.”

  “It hasn’t happened. There’s no feelings.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  He huffs out a laugh. “You clearly haven’t seen the pictures from last night.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  I watch out the corner of my eye as he pulls out his cell phone, taps away for a few seconds and then holds it out for me to look at.

  I snag it from his hand and slide my glasses up onto my head so I can see it properly.

  It’s me and Billie, last night on the red carpet. She’s in my arms like the prize she is, and a smile that’s probably never been seen before is all over my face.

  Shit.

  “What about it?” I ask, handing it back to him like it’s no big deal, when in reality it’s a really big god damn deal.

  “Don’t fucking try that shit with me. I know you, Masen, known you since we were eleven years old – don’t bullshit me. We’ve been friends – fuck that, brothers – for twelve years and I’ve never seen you look that happy.”

  “I’ve never had to work on my public image before now.”

  He scowls at me, and I drop my shades back down to hide my eyes from him, because he’s fucking right – absolutely one hundred percent correct – I’ve never looked at anything or anyone the way I’m looking at Billie in that picture.

  Not even when my albums made it to platinum, or I sold out massive arenas, not when my songs were number one hits or I made millions of dollars. No, instead I reserve my smiles for a too-sweet fucking girl dropping an f bomb.

  I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.

  I grab a cigarette from my box and light it up, trying desperately to calm my nerves.

  I want to talk to him about it, because he’s right about us being like brothers too – he’s the only person that has stuck by my side when things turned from bad to ugly, but I can’t. I just can’t.

  “It’s not real, bro,” I lie instead. “We’re just playing our parts.”

  “Whatever you say, man, believe that if it helps you sleep at night… but you don’t fool me.”

  He strips off his shirt and charges full steam towards the pool.

  Motherfucker.

  ***

  “Sugar, come with me.”

  She rolls her head to the side, glancing at me over her bare shoulder.

  “Only if you tell me where we’re going?”

  I tip my head and start walking away – she’ll follow, I know she will.

  I grin to myself as I hear her feet padding across the hard wood flooring behind me, muttering words I can’t make out.

  I glance at her over my shoulder as I reach the doorway for the stairs and her eyes widen in surprise.

  She follows me down the stairs, past the bowling lane and into my studio. I can practically hear her curiosity screaming at me the entire way.

  I turn to face her, my heart thumping.

  I’ve never done anything even remotely close to this before, but here I am, breaking all the fucking rules for this girl.

  She stops when she sees me stop, and her brow furrows as she tries to figure out what she’s doing here.

  “Sit.” I point at the couch and she complies, lowering her lithe body onto the seat without argument.

  My gaze holds on her longer than it should, and I have to tear myself away before I can get the message to my brain that this is a really bad idea.

  I stride across the room and take the brand new, acoustic guitar off the wall. I’m passing it to her and she’s holding it before she can question what it’s for.

  I sink down onto the stool in front of her, my lyric sheet in my subtly shaking hands.

  “What are you doing?” she whispers, holding the instrument like it’s a loaded fucking bomb.

  “Sing with me.”

  Her eyes widen as she looks from the guitar, to me, and then back again.

  “Oh, no, Mase… I don’t… I don’t sing.”

  “You sing.”

  Her face pales. “I barely even play,” she whispers.

&nb
sp; “Do you trust me?” I ask her, and for the first time in my life, the answer to a simple question scares me.

  She’s still for a few beats, but when she nods her head, I release a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

  My nerves are shot to shit right now. I need a smoke, but surprisingly, I don’t feel like I need a drink.

  In fact, now that I think about it, I haven’t truly craved a drink ever since that night at the bar.

  The same night I slept with Billie.

  I shake the thought out of my head. There’s no connection there, my mind is doing what it always does – fucking with me.

  “Then trust me, sugar. Sing with me. Play.”

  I pass her the music, and she takes it, her eyes barely glancing over it before she sets it aside – she should know the melody already – she created it.

  Her fingers tentatively grip the glossy guitar in her hands, and I take that as my cue to reach for mine, sitting it in my lap and strumming her in.

  She joins me, effortlessly, like we’ve been playing together for years.

  I swallow deeply as we reach the intro to the first verse.

  I go for it, pouring all my confusion over my feelings into the words. She holds back, but her eyes don’t once leave mine as I hit the second verse and then the chorus.

  I’ve given up on hearing her voice again when she opens her mouth and the beautiful melody falls from her sexy lips, weaving effortlessly with the huskiness of mine.

  I stumble over a few words, in shock, and she smiles shyly.

  My heart rate speeds up as we float through the rest of the chorus, I belt out the verses and my fingers still on the strings.

  Billie is breathing rapidly, her shoulders rising and falling as she stares at the ground, taking a minute.

  I know how she feels. I could take a million minutes right now and it still wouldn’t be enough.

  I’ve just bared my fucking soul to a woman who is being paid to be my girlfriend. I’ve shared more of myself with her than I have anyone else and I don’t know what the hell to make of that.

  She finally looks up at me, her hazel eyes soft and dreamy.

  Beautiful.

  Frightening.

  Real.

  Fuck.

  Josh was right.