Page 56 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

I pick up a fry, take a bite, and think.

“Well, first of all, don’t let anyone tell you the pizza’s good in this town. It’s passable, at best. Falls Pizza is a trap. If you want decent food, you have to hit up the mercantile. Bill’s got this weird knack for making any sandwich you order seem like it’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten.”

Xander raises an eyebrow. “Noted. Pizza’s out.”

I nod, satisfied with the acceptance.

Gabe, who’s been unusually quiet for the last couple of minutes, speaks up. “What about the market?”

“Well, it brings people together, I’ll give it that,” I say. “But the tourists don’t stay long, and I think that’s part of the problem with this town. It gets stuck. I mean, everything’s great until you try and get past that one block. The minute you hit Main Street, it feels like you’ve already seen everything and everyone. The more money comes in, the more people start worrying about their space. But I suppose you guys might change that.” I frown. “You might turn this place into a circus.”

Gabe shakes his head. “That’s definitely not the plan. We love the peace of this place.”

Is his leg touching mine?

Yep, and he definitely isn’t moving it.

I can’t decide if the accidental leg touch is intentional or just a muscle twitch from someone who spends too much time in tailored suits. Either way, it feels like a challenge.

My breath catches, and I force myself to focus on the conversation, on anything, anything other than the heat of his thigh against mine.

“Love the peace, huh?” I say, trying to keep the flow going.

Gabe leans back, taking another sip of his drink. “Redemption Falls might be small, but it has more than enough room for a new vision. We’re here to give something back. A place for artists to dream without the pressure.”

It sounds almost rehearsed. A polished line. But there’s a tightness in his voice that makes me believe it’s not all just a sales pitch.

Plus, his knee keeps twitching, and I don’t know if he’s trying to get closer to me or push me away.

TEN

Julian

Ihaven’t seen Xander look that way in years. Not at a woman.

Not at anything, really.

Usually, when we walk into a room, the reaction is predictable. Recognition first, then curiosity, then the shift, the subtle recalibration where people decide who we are to them. Some lean in. Some perform. Some pretend not to care while caring very loudly.

Women?

They’re usually the easiest variable in the equation.

They flirt. They test. They orbit.

Willow looks like she’d rather walk barefoot across broken glass than orbit anything.

And I think it might be my favorite thing I’ve seen all week.

I lean back against the kitchen counter, arms loose, watching her pretend she’s not aware of the way Xander’s attention keeps drifting back to her. Gravity has personally chosen sides.

She’s sitting on the stool Gabe offered her, one leg hooked casually around the base, drink in hand, expression carefully neutral in that way that screams I’m actively choosing not to react to this situation.

Which, for the record, is a reaction.

Xander’s across from her, posture controlled, fingers tapping intermittently against the counter because his brain is running ahead of him and his body is trying to catch up.

Gabe’s beside her, calm as ever, except for the fact that his knee is definitely touching hers and he definitely hasn’t moved it.