Built to Fall: A Rock Star Romance Page 6

  My mouth opened and closed, but barely a squeak came out. It was then Dominic stepped in, shoving Dale aside like he was kidding around, but using more force than strictly necessary. I took the opportunity to rush out of the room and scramble to the exit.

  A minute later, Dominic found me on the sidewalk, convincing my heartrate to return to normal. I held my hair off my neck, fanning my face with my other hand.

  He stopped in front of me, looking me over. “He was out of line.”

  I nodded. “I know.”

  His warm palm cupped my elbow. “We need to go.”

  He steered me to the car, allowing me in first, then climbed in after. I took in a shaky breath and attempted a smile. “I’m sorry I messed up. I truly didn’t know about the bumps, but I’ll check first if a situation like that comes up again.”

  Dominic scrubbed at his mouth, then released an aggravated groan. “The bumps are no big deal. Dale overreacted. I’ve known him since I was a kid. He flies off the handle at the drop of a hat.” He dropped his hand on his leg. “You need to stand up for yourself, Claire.”

  “Right.” I crossed my ankles and rubbed my damp palms on my pants. “I know. I won’t let something like that happen again.”

  He watched my fingers curl into the fabric of my pants, then his eyes flicked to mine. “Won’t happen with Dale. I ripped him a new one before I left. No one talks to my employees like that.”

  “Thank you.”

  He was right, though. I needed to be my own champion. I’d let people walk all over me for too long, and I was just now seeing it. I had my moments of bravery, but I let far too much slide. What Derrick did to me had the potential to fold me like a flower—I had to be the one to not allow it.

  “Don’t thank me. I would have put a stop to Dale sooner, but I wanted to see you handle it. Probably a dick move on my part,” Dominic admitted.

  Our car rolled to a stop at the end of a long driveway, bookended by two overgrown bushes covered in white flowers.

  Dominic reached for the door. “This is our stop.” He left the car before me, offering me his hand. “We’ll be quick. Come on.”

  I let him help me out, then quickly pulled back. “Where are we?” We hadn’t gone far from the station. A few turns had led us to a narrow road lined with long driveways and massive trees covered in Spanish moss.

  He pointed to the house with peeling blue paint at the end of the driveway. “This was my grandparents’ house. I spent my summers here with them. Now that they’re gone, I own it.” He plucked a white flower from the overgrown bush. “Whenever I’m in town, I always have to get a taste of honeysuckle. Come here.”

  Pulling the stamen from the center of the flower, Dominic sucked on it, humming softly, then repeated his action.

  Curious, I took a flower from the bush. “How do I do this?”

  He narrowed his eyes on me. “You’ve never had honeysuckle?”

  “Never. I’m a northerner. I don’t think it’s really a thing.”

  Without a word, he took the flower from my hand, slowly pinched the stamen, dragged it out, and held it up to my lips.

  “Suck, Claire.”

  I darted my tongue out to catch the nectar and sucked lightly on the flower. The honey sweet flavor surprised me. My lips curved into a delighted smile, and I reached for another.

  “I think I can do this one myself,” I said.

  Dominic followed my movements, sucking the nectar from his own flower.

  “Good,” he murmured. “What do you think?”

  “Delicious.” I grinned at him, excited to have been shown a new experience. “Do you ever go wild and stuff the whole flower in your mouth?”

  He looked to the ground, kicking up dirt with his sneaker as he chuckled. “Never. Should we try it?”

  I rolled the soft, white petals across my bottom lip. “It might not taste very good. Let’s not ruin this experience with an imperfect memory. Next time I come upon a honeysuckle bush, though, I’m trying it.”

  Dominic stood close while I snapped a few pictures of the flowers and then a quick selfie to send Annaliese. My sister surely knew all about honeysuckle since plants were her life, but she’d never believe I sucked on nectar with Dominic Cantrell without some sort of photographic evidence. Plus, I wanted to remember this sweet moment.

  “Do you want to go in the house?” I asked.

  “Nah, I’m okay. I just like to stop by, get my honeysuckle fix, and make sure the place is still standing. I’m ready to get back to the city.”

  I plucked another flower. “Do you want to take some for the road?”

  His hand tucked in his pockets as he sucked his teeth. “There’s something about the location that makes them sweet for me. I’ve never had the urge to take them with me.” He jerked his head toward the car. “Let’s go.”

  This brief glimpse into Dominic Cantrell only made me curious for more. I saw a little bit of his human side, making him less of a rock god and more of an immensely talented, gorgeous man. Still intimidating, but a coating of his shine had dulled a little, which was a good thing.

  On the drive back, my curiosity got the better of me. “Was Dale your grandparents’ neighbor?”

  Dominic faced me, but his eyes were hidden by his mirrored lenses. “His friend and protege. My grandfather owned the station up until about fifteen years ago, then Dale took over.”

  “Is that where your love of music came from? Hanging out at the station?”

  “A mix. I think I strolled out of the womb with a guitar in my hand. I recorded my first demo at that radio station with my grandfather’s help. It was a pile of shit, but I was only sixteen. My grandmother…now, she was something else. She was a music teacher and played the organ at her church. The woman had a voice like Janis Joplin. If she’d been born in a different era, she’d have been the rock star of the family.”

  I almost didn’t know what to say. This was the most Dominic had ever said to me. I was so taken aback by how open he was being, my mind had to scramble to keep up.

  “They both sound wonderful. I’m glad you had those summers with them.”

  He studied me for a long time from behind his glasses. Miles went by before he responded. “That’s an exceptionally nice sentiment, Claire.”

  I shrugged. “It’s just the truth.”

  Tapping his fingertips on his knee, he canted his head and stretched his mile-long legs out to my side of the car.

  “I won’t need you anymore once we’re back in Atlanta. You’re free for the rest of the day.” He returned his gaze to the window and kept it there the rest of the entire drive.

  Dismissed yet again.

  I wondered what made a man so closed off. Fame probably had something to do with it, but I imagined his locked doors covered caverns filled with reasons.

  As curious as I was, I wouldn’t be banging down his doors to get inside.

  Dominic could keep his secrets, and I’d keep my perfect honeysuckle memories.

  Chapter Nine

  Dominic

  Instead of staying at a hotel in Miami, I rented a house on the beach. Three nights straight in Atlanta was more than enough for me. Here, I could step outside without being swarmed and surrounded. Not that I was under any illusion photographers wouldn’t use zoom lenses to capture my picture, but I had no intention of walking around with my dick out or doing blow by the window. To stay sane, I needed to be able to stretch my legs a little, not hole up in one room unless I was working.

  Claire and Marta explored the house we’d spend the next two nights in while I kicked back on the expansive patio by the pool. Florida sun beat down on my face, absorbing into my black shorts and T-shirt.

  From inside, Claire’s voice carried. “Are you sure I shouldn’t stay at the hotel?”

  “Nope. It would be such a waste. There are ten bedrooms in this joint. Do you honestly think you’ll be in his way?” Marta asked.

  “It’s hard to say with him,” Claire answered.

>   That had my lips twitching. I hadn’t been the friendliest to my new PR assistant, but it wasn’t really personal. People weren’t my thing, and young, sweet women were so far outside my wheelhouse, I had no idea how to handle them.

  Claire wasn’t as skittish as I’d first assumed…and maybe not even as sweet. I’d gotten used to her presence. Hell, I didn’t even mind it. In fact, I’d told Marta to invite Claire to stay in the house with us.

  “Get out here,” I called. “Both of you.”

  They appeared together, a study of darkness and light. Like me, Marta was dressed in all black, but a lot less fabric. Claire wore a white sundress that would have been sweet and innocent if not for the diamond shape cutout below her breasts. When she shifted, I kept catching a glimpse of the under-curve of her tits, which messed up my mind.

  I’d dismissed her outright when I first saw her on the plane, and it had been a relief. I didn’t want to be attracted to her. Our working relationship would be a hell of a lot simpler if I didn’t wonder what it would feel like to slip my fingers inside the cutout and trace the supple flesh peeking out.

  “Think you can set up a dinner for tonight?” I asked Marta.

  “Sure. Are we doing Cuban?”

  “Sounds good. Invite the other guys,” I said.

  Marta gawked. “Who do you mean? The other bands?”

  I nodded, amused by her reaction. “Yes. See if they’re up for dinner. I could stand getting to know them, and I’m sure you’d rather have their company than mine.”

  “Um...okay.” Marta swiveled around in a circle. “You’re serious, right?”

  “Completely.”

  She went back inside to make phone calls, and Claire started to follow her.

  “Claire.”

  Turning back, she took a step closer to me. “Do you need me?”

  “You wouldn’t be in this house if I didn’t want you here.” I cocked my head, allowing myself a moment to look her up and down from behind my shades. “I don’t play games, and I always say what I mean. You’d be stashed at the hotel if you weren’t welcome.”

  Her eyes rolled skyward. “Somehow, that wasn’t very comforting. But thank you anyway. This is by far the nicest house I’ve ever been in. A girl could get used to this.”

  “Well, don’t.”

  It seemed like she could see right through my mirrored lenses, from the startled glare she gave me.

  “Enjoy the sun. I’ll go see if Marta needs help.”

  Call me a sadist, but I enjoyed a pissed-off Claire far more than I should have. And from the bounce of her curls as she retreated, she was mighty pissed off.

  * * *

  Only The Seasons Change made it for dinner, but Marta had ordered enough Cuban food for an army. We sat on the patio, drinking mojitos, eating good food, and talking.

  Well, they talked, I listened. I didn’t often feel out of place, especially not on my own tour, but tonight was an exception. These guys were all in their early twenties, just starting their lives, bright-eyed and fresh. My bright eyes had long ago faded.

  “This house is crazy.” Iris, the lead singer, shook her head, then lifted her gaze to meet mine from the other end of the table. “Do you still feel awe at being here, or is this normal now?”

  Rocking forward in my chair to rest my elbow by my plate, I contemplated her question. “Being able to afford to stay in beautiful places is normal to me and has been for a long time. The house is nice, no doubt. The views are spectacular. But I’m here for the privacy and the sunshine. The rest is cake.”

  Iris pursed her pretty lips and leaned in like I had. “Why chase fame if privacy is so important?”

  “Are you chasing fame? Is that what The Seasons Change is about?” I countered.

  “Hell no!” Rodrigo pumped his fist above his head. “We’re about the music, baby.”

  I tipped my chin at him. The kid never stopped moving, but I couldn’t find fault in his enthusiasm. “Me too. That’s always what I’ve been about. The landscape becomes more volatile the more successful you become, and the hoops you have to jump through change, but music is always the centerpiece of my motivation.”

  Iris plucked a piece of her platinum hair. “They made me go blonde. I hate it so much.”

  The woman was crazy gorgeous, but she was a rocker first. I could understand how being forced into a cupcake image ruffled her leather-and-metal feathers. “Yeah…well, record labels can be dicks.” I tugged at the short hair on the crown of my head. “One day, you can tell them to go to hell and stick up your middle fingers as you go gray.”

  Marta gave my shoulder a shove. “Look at you, being all supportive. Who would have known?”

  I returned her shove, chuckling. “I have my moments.”

  Iris slumped back in her chair, her foot resting on her knee. “I just want to be scary. Who’s scared of a sorority-looking bitch?”

  Claire raised her hand. “Me. You’re intimidating as hell until you smile.”

  “But you’re scared of everyone, aren’t you, Claire?” I drawled, raising my drink to my lips, picturing her cowering at Dale. I’d never wanted someone to stand up for themselves more than I had then. At the same time, I’d been close to tearing Dale’s head from his shoulders for putting that fear in Claire’s eyes.

  She turned her head sharply. “There’s a difference between being intimidated by how gorgeous and cool another woman is and being genuinely fearful of a man. You know that, right?” There was no anger or admonishment in Claire’s words. If anything, she’d said them gently, like I was an idiot who wouldn’t understand the difference.

  Iris reached a hand across the table, grabbing Claire’s. “I’d never want to scare you, you beautiful honey bunny.”

  Adam, the kid who’d stumbled out of Claire’s room in Atlanta, was seated beside her. He gently massaged her neck and murmured something too quiet for me to hear, fading the frown on her face.

  The conversation moved on, and Marta slugged my bicep. “I thought we talked about you not being mean to Claire,” she hissed.

  “I wasn’t trying to be mean.” Get a rise out of her, yeah. Mean, no. Sometimes, I came across that way unintentionally, though, and I was aware of that—something to work on in my next life.

  “We should do two truths and a lie.” Adam clapped his hands, finally releasing Claire’s poor neck. “Who wants to go first?”

  Marta pointed at me. “I think Dominic does.”

  I slowly opened my palms. “I don’t know how to play.”

  “Dude, it’s pretty self-explanatory. You tell us three things about yourself, and we have to figure out which is the lie,” Adam said.

  I cocked my head, brows pinching. “You better go first. Show me how it’s done.”

  He chuckled and wrapped his arm around Claire’s shoulders. “You’re more interesting. You go.”

  Marta grumbled. “Someone fucking go, or I’m going to walk into the ocean.”

  Claire grinned and lifted her mojito. “I’ll go. Don’t ruin your cute outfit on my account.” She took a sip, her eyes alight with amusement. “All right, here we go. I grew up in Texas and can lasso a calf with my eyes closed. I’ve been to exactly five concerts, counting the one in Atlanta. I got my very first tattoo last month, and it’s as big as my hand.”

  Everyone started shouting their answers, most agreeing the concert one had to be false.

  “What about you, Dom? What’s your answer?” Marta asked.

  I scratched my chin under my beard, considering. “The tattoo. I don’t think Claire has a tattoo.”

  “Well,” she cupped her cheeks, her nose wrinkling, “you’re wrong. I do have a tattoo. The lie was about Texas. My parents moved there when I went to college. I’ve never lassoed a calf, but I went to a rodeo once when I visited them.”

  Adam tugged her closer. “We’ve gotta get you to more concerts.”

  Marta raised her hand. “I want to see this tattoo.”

  “I’d have to take m
y dress off, and as much as I like you guys,” Claire pointed around the table, skipping right past me, “that’s not happening.”

  The game went on, but I didn’t have much interest in guessing the lies from the truth. After a while, I wandered from the table, turning the music up on the speakers. Latin beats hummed through the humid, ocean breeze. Marta pulled Claire to her feet and onto the center of the patio. They danced something vaguely resembling salsa, quick stepping and snapping hips. Claire’s dress floated around her legs, and when she raised her arms above her head, pivoting around in a tight circle, her cheeks were flushed and her chest dewy.

  I tried to hang back and only watch, but when Adam took Claire away, Marta came for me.

  “You’d better get off your old ass and dance with me.” She held her arms straight out and curled her fingers to the beat of the song, urging me to come to her.

  Marta could be a dog with a bone, and she wouldn’t rest until I got on my feet, so I did. With one hand on her back, the other clutching hers, we rocked together through the rest of the song.

  “Admit you’re having fun.” She poked my chest and gave me a mojito-grin.

  “I’m having fun.” It was a slight exaggeration, but I wasn’t having a terrible time. I twirled her twice, then dipped her low. “Why are you dancing with me and not your girl?”

  Iris and Rodrigo were hopping around, completely offbeat, while Marta kept stealing glances. It was pretty damn clear she wanted her arms wrapped around someone who wasn’t me.

  “I’m biding my time, obviously.” She spun away from me, breaking out of my loose hold and cutting in between Adam and Claire.

  With a laugh, Claire twirled my way. I told myself if I didn’t slide my arms around her, it would hurt her feelings—and I’d done enough of that tonight.