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It was positively adorable. Taking pity on her, I chuckled. “If you wanted an autograph, all you had to do was ask.”
She stared at me, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, still saying nothing. Then it hit me—she might not have known who I was.Fuck.It was usually pretty safe to assume that women in their early twenties knew me, but that stupid meme had me second-guessing myself. Just my luck that I’d found one of the five percent who didn’t recognize a former Misdirection member who’d made a lame self-aggrandizing joke in the middle of a men’s restroom.
Finally, she spoke. “I don’t have a pen.”
Ali
I don’t have a pen? What the hell kind of response was that?
Oh god, oh god, oh god.Not only had I apparently walked into the men’s room in the middle of record label’s release party at an LA nightclub, but Trenton Mazer had witnessed my faux pas.
I felt like such an idiot. And I hadn’t even had that much champagne. Those two little glasses must have been hitting me harder than I’d realized.
He chuckled again. “I’m afraid I don’t carry pens either.”
The thought occurred to me that I might very well have walked in onTrenton Mazerwith his pants down. “I didn’t see anything,” I blurted.
Oh god. Could this get any worse? There was a definite disconnect between my brain and my mouth. The worst part was that I could tell he was trying not to laugh. I put a hand over my eyes and hung my head.
I guessed that was too much for him, because he burst out laughing. “There’s no reason to hide your eyes now, sweetheart.”
Oh yes, there is.My first in-person encounter with a rock star, and I’d totally humiliated myself. Thank God I was still anonymous. He most likely wouldn’t remember me, anyway, at least not specifically. I would simply be that vapid girl who nearly walked in on him at the urinal.
I fell back on years of high-society training. “I apologize for the misunderstanding,” I said stiffly and nodded like I was royalty or something.Ugh.I just kept digging that hole.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s your name?”
I hesitated for a moment then decided I might as well use the opportunity to try on my new persona. I threw my shoulders back. “Seraphina.” The name sounded fake on my lips, and I realized Georgia might have had a valid point.Damn it.Oh well. I couldn’t take it back now.
“Well, Seraphina,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes as he held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Trenton.”
I stared at his outstretched hand. “I know who you are.”Is it my imagination, or do I see relief on his face?He was probably relieved that the encounter would soon end.
He gestured to his hand and grinned. “Don’t worry. I washed my hands.”
My eyes widened as I realized I might have insulted him. “Oh, shit. Sorry.” As I moved forward to take his hand, my heel caught on something, and instead of shaking his hand, I fell into his arms and banged my forehead on his chin. “Ow.”Because this situation couldn’t get any more awkward.
“Are you okay?” he asked, gripping my elbows to keep me upright.
I inhaled.Bad idea.Trenton Mazer, formerly of Misdirection and current rock god, smelledgood.Better than good. Sexy. And his arms were way more muscled than I would have expected of the former boy bander. And flush against him, I realized he was tall. With his stature and build, he easily could have been an athlete, maybe football or baseball.
“Are you okay?” he asked again.
Cringing, I realized I’d taken way too long to answer. I disentangled myself from his arms and tried to take a few steps back, only I couldn’t. My foot wouldn’t move. I looked down to see that my stiletto heel had gotten caught in an industrial drain in the middle of the floor. The club’s rustic interior suddenly lost its charm.
“I’m fine,” I gritted out as I tried to jerk my foot free.
Looking at what I was doing, he frowned. “Do you want some help?”
“No…” I yanked harder, letting out an unladylike grunt as I did. “I’ve almost got it.”Lie.
He chuckled, a deep sound that hit me right in the lady parts. “Let me help you.” Before I could stop him, he knelt at my feet. “This would be easier if you slipped your foot out of the shoe. I don’t want to hurt your ankle.”
A twisted ankle was the last thing I needed right before startingSing Battle.Wrinkling my nose, I looked at the floor. Upscale club or not, I did not want my bare skin touching a public bathroom floor. Trenton sensed my discomfort. “Hang on.” He disappeared into a stall and returned with a wad of toilet paper that he placed on the ground next to my foot.
“Thanks.” I eased my foot out of the shoe, careful not to touch him or anything else with my foot. At least I’d gotten a pedicure the week before.
It only took one yank from Trenton to free the black heel. He laid it next to my foot, which I expertly slid back into the shoe.
