Page 62 of Just Wait

Does she know him?

He could be a long-time fan of Tangled Desires.

And he what?

Came to our meet and greet after theirs?

That is a possibility, but I’m going to guess they don’t know each other.

Malcolm is busy taking his own pictures with the persistent fan. Riser is with the reporters, and I don’t even need to check on Tennyson and Parish to know they aren’t going to step in.

That leaves me.

This is why people think I’m an asshole, but I guess it’s time to live up to my reputation.

I slide up behind Lumen, wrapping my arm around her lower back.

The guy frowns, and I offer a shitty smirk. I couldn’t care less what he thinks.

“If you’ll excuse us,” I say, prying the drink away from Lumen’s grasp with my other hand. “I need to borrow her for just a minute.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, but the tightness in his jaw conveys his displeasure.

I tug Lumen away as she peeks up at me, confusion written all over her face. We make a quick stop at the drink station, and I hand off the cup to one of the attendants.

“Toss this.”

“You got it,” he says, nodding.

I could have been a real asshole and dumped the thing in one of the trash cans, but I have more respect for the janitorial staff than that.

Once Lumen and I are as far as we’re going to get from anyone else, I release her and step around in front of her.

“Do you know that guy?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.

“Not before ten minutes ago.” Her head shakes. “I think his name was Brett or maybe Brad?”

“Do we need to have a lesson about why it’s dangerous to take drinks from men we don’t know?” I ask, trying to keep my frustration from spilling into my tone. “Because I’ve got a few minutes to go over why that’s the case.”

Her nose wrinkles, and the smattering of freckles along her nose and cheeks catches my attention. Her foundation couldn’t hold up against the heat, and that fucking red mark on her cheek is visible. My fingers twitch as I hold myself back from brushing over it.

“I wasn’t going to drink it,” she says, rolling her bluish-gray eyes. “I was distracting him with my amazing personality, and I would have tossed it the first opportunity I got.”

An unexpected bark of laughter escapes.

Dammit.

I like her.

A lot.

The women I interact with never glare or roll their eyes. Occasionally people do when I’m out in public, but that’s because they don’t like my style. They see the tatts and piercings and assume I’m dangerous or a delinquent.

When it comes to the ladies in my orbit, I run into two types. Either they bat their eyelashes and forget how to speak, or they slide into predator mode while we’re their prey. They want to fuck a rock star with the chance of landing one of us permanently.

It’s a dream that the label, the press, and the industry, in general, push to ensure the fans stay feral.

I’ve always enjoyed the chase and having to work for a woman’s affection. It can get boring when I don’t even have to try, and women are falling over themselves to be available.