Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Rob takes a step forward, only for his dad to hold him back and mine to move past them. Well, shove past them was more like it.
As he approaches us, I wait for a lecture. Instead, he holds out his hand to Killian. “Thank you for coming. Sorry for the shitshow.”
“Well, if I get a date out of it, I’ll call it a win.” Killian flashes a wide grin as the two shake hands. “She looks too pretty in that dress not to be seen today, and not just by people holding up their phones and gossiping.”
My dad nods. “She’s everything. She likes cookie dough ice cream and the little French cafe down on the pier next to the aquarium.”
“Cookie dough, see? Match made in heaven.” Killian grins down at me. “What do you say, runaway bride? You in for a date night to take your mind off the chaos?” He leans in. “Quick reminder, everyone needs chaos every once in a while, but it’s healthy to cancel the noise and breathe.”
“Yes.” Is that me nodding like I’m not even in control of my body anymore? What is happening? “Yes. I’ll go on a date with you.”
Dad pulls me in for a hug. “Go have fun, I’ll take care of all of this.” He glances around the huge venue for the reception. Everyone is holding their phones up high, whispering, mumbling, shoving toward the stage.
Just as I’m about to address the giant elephant in the venue, Killian drops the mic, wraps an arm around me, and presses a kiss right on my neck. “Let’s go!”
If you’ve made it this far, you now know how I, Scarlett Winthrope, became entangled with one of the hottest rockstars in the world.
But that’s not where our story ends.
Nope. It’s truly just the beginning.
CHAPTER FOUR
Killian
“Ground rules,” I say once we’re safely in the waiting black Escalade. It took a minute for my bodyguards to actually understand what was going on and why I wasn’t at the venue playing like I promised. My bandmates stayed behind to keep playing; they were new to me anyway, hired by my new label, and I’d only practiced with them a few times.
Shit. A wedding. How far had I fallen? And while the money was incredible, there was just something about going from selling out stadiums across the world to singing at a wedding reception in a suit.
My old bandmates—the ones that pretty much would fight each other for a chance to torture me, then murder me—would laugh their asses off.
As if I’m the one who made us disband because I had creative differences. The lie is always more interesting than the truth, right? Shit, I had people camped outside my apartment for a week after we disbanded, food thrown at me at Taco Bell—who the hell gets rid of a good chalupa? I mean, really, that’s the question here.
I think my favorite was when a guy at a local coffee shop stopped mid-set, saw me grab a cup of coffee and literally say into the microphone. “Fuck you, Killian Stone!”
People clapped.
To say it’s been a fun few years, well…
I shake the headache already forming at my temples and turn to the pretty girl sitting next to me. “Sorry, got lost in my thoughts. Ground rules: no pictures, no posting on social media, no—”
She claps a hand over my mouth and shakes her head. “I think I’ve had enough of social media for the day, enough gossip, and what makes you think I’m one of those weird fans who’s gonna tattoo your signature on my ass? I mean come on. Do I really want to be an old grandma someday with ‘Killian’ scrawled across my ass cheeks?”
“Depends.” I laugh. “Are you a hot old grandma?”
“I will do yoga until the day I stop breathing, so yes.” She wipes at her still wet cheeks. “And nobody needs someone else’s name on their body unless it’s already etched on their soul.”
My mouth drops open. “Wow, we have a romantic inside that broken little chest, and I don’t mean little as in…” I point at her breasts. “They’re not little, and you know what? I’m gonna stop now.”
“Good idea.” She pats me on the leg and leans back against the leather seat, squeezing her eyes shut briefly before letting out a long sigh. Her profile is gorgeous, she’s curvy in all the right places. Her dress is a form-fitting silk with a plunging neckline. She isn’t wearing a necklace, but has giant diamond earring cuffs on both ears. Her light brown hair has pieces of honey colors drawn through it like an artist wanted to add some color, and it’s pulled back into a loose braid. Her makeup artist must work in the industry because, despite crying, this girl still looks beautiful. Even with some remnants of raccoon eyes.