“Come by after nine.”
“Are you cooking?” She raised her brow in suspicion. “Or ordering in?”
“I’m not completely useless,” he said, not answering the question. “Bring Rory. I’m up for a little friendly competition.”
“I’ll ask him if he’s available. He’s Insta-famous, you know.”
“He got more likes than anything I’ve posted.”
“You’re just as cute.”
“Funny.” He kissed her cheek. “Text when you get home, okay?”
She nodded. “I promise, no emojis.”
CHAPTER 12
CARY
Cary waved as the taxi disappeared around the corner. How lucky was he? He’d somehow found the world’s only female Rush fan, and she’d given him more documentary suggestions than he could watch in a lifetime.
Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said—why was she so worried about Sebastien?
Sure, his manager didn’t have the warmest bedside manner, and refusing to pay Vegas while he was injured was indefensible.
This next tour was a big one, and the timing sucked. Six weeks without Tyler? Unthinkable. Maybe she could visit. If not, he’d be back in Malibu for the holidays—and he’d make damn sure she was there too. Who could say no to LA in December?
By then, maybe she’d be comfortable sharing his bed.
She’d looked horrified when she thought he meant tonight. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind—especially after that kiss—but he had no intention of rushing her. Most of the women he’d dated moved fast, like sleeping with him was some kind of shortcut to a ring.
But Tyler? Tyler was different. Tyler was worth it.
Still, waiting was the hardest part.
And right now, so was he.
CHAPTER 13
TYLER
Tyler tossed and turned all night, second-guessing her decision to have breakfast with him. Deep down, she knew Cary Kingston wasn’t exactly husband material—hell, he barely qualified as boyfriend material. And she wasn’t looking for a fling. She wanted a baby, a family, something real. Getting involved with him was like taking a scenic detour straight to heartbreak—beautiful, distracting, and ultimately a dead end with flashing caution lights.
There was also the problem of Sebastien: he was paranoid of anyone getting close to his rock star because, without Cary, he was nothing but a regular piece of shit in a Quebec Nordiques cap.
“What’s Mommy going to do?” Rory glanced at her from the foot of the bed, but he didn’t have a clue.
She picked up her phone to call Dylan. Her sister was honest to a fault, whether she liked it or not.
“What’s up?” Dylan answered in a cheery voice.
“I’m in a bit of a pickle,” Tyler said.
“Oh?” Her sister sounded confused.
“I’m not literally in a pickle, Dylan.” Impatience came out in her tone. “It’s Cary.”
“What happened?”
