Finding Chris Evans: The Rockstar Edition Page 2

  Harper shook her head. “No, no, it was my fault. I tripped.” She lifted her leg up, showing off sandals with a thick heel. “Impractical shoes for fall, plus I was trying to get through the crowd because I lost my friend.”

  “Did you find her?”

  She nodded then winced without warning when the doctor shifted her arm. “Oh, geez, okay, that’s more than a pinch, I have to admit.”

  “Are you getting a cast?” Stryker asked.

  “Not until tomorrow,” the doctor said, glancing up and giving him a smile. “Dr. Vandervoot, nice to meet you.”

  “Stryker Evans. Nice to meet you too. Why does she have to wait?” he asked, realizing it was precisely none of his goddamn business but thinking it seemed kind of basic to him that a broken arm shouldn’t be flopping around all night.

  “I’m not an orthopedic doctor. She has a comminuted fracture of the ulna. It’s better to have an orthopedic take a look at it. We’ll give her a sling to wear tonight and some pain medication.”

  Stryker frowned. “That comminuted crap sounds bad.”

  “Go big or go home,” Harper said. “That’s me.”

  He appreciated her attitude but he felt guilty as hell. “Let me pay for your medical bills.”

  Peter groaned behind him.

  Her eyes widened. “No, no, that’s totally not necessary. I have insurance. I’m a data analyst,” she added then frowned. “Not that you care. I just mean, it’s cool. It’s fine. It was my fault. And thanks for stopping by.”

  He had embarrassed her, clearly. She was flustered. “You’re welcome. But if you won’t accept money for your medical bills, at least let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night. It’s my last night in town, and I’d love to spend it with you.”

  For a second, she just stared at him. Then she burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” He was genuinely bewildered. Usually when he asked a woman out she was flattered, not in goddamn stiches over it.

  “Nothing.” She glanced over at the doctor. “When can I leave?”

  “The nurse will be in with discharge instructions and a sling in a few minutes. Take care of yourself, Miss Harrison, and no more crowd surfing.” He gave her a smile.

  She laughed and smiled back.

  Why did he feel like she was flirting with the doctor? The guy was decent looking, probably around thirty, and he was a doctor, but… But what? What single woman in Minnesota wouldn’t want that? Sure, a rockstar was exciting, for a hot minute, but not for anything real. She had every right to flirt with a local physician. Then he realized he didn’t even know if she was single or not. Maybe she was laughing because she was married.

  “Lord, no one wants me to crowd surf. Too much weight to hold up.”

  Now that pissed him off too. Why was she cracking on her weight? She looked fantastic. Like a whole lot of something he’d like to taste. He was also feeling left out, which made him additionally cranky. Like he wasn’t the most important person in the room to her. Which he wasn’t. The doctor was and should be. What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe he had been right to think his head was getting a little too big.

  The one on his shoulders, that is. The other head could never be too big.

  The doctor gave a wave and a smile and left. Stryker felt out of sorts. Unsure of what he was doing and he fucking hated that. He knew who and what he was. So why did some woman laughing and smiling at another man irritate him? He turned back to Peter. “Give me a minute. I’ll meet you by the car.”

  Peter’s eyebrows shot up and he started to protest.

  Instead of ordering him, like he would normally do, only to be subsequently ignored, Stryker just said, “Please? I’ll be fast.”

  His sincere tone seemed to stun Peter who nodded. “Sure, buddy. Let me know if you need anything.”

  What he needed was a minute alone with a woman. A real woman. Not a pampered princess or a supermodel or an angry rocker, but a middle class cutie with a sweet smile. Just a minute. That’s it. “Thanks.”

  Then when the door closed behind Peter and his leather pants, he studied Harper Harrison. The smile fell off her face. “What?” she asked.

  “You never answered my question about dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I’ll go to dinner with you.”

  That confused him. He’d been prepared to talk her into it. “Then why did you laugh?”

  The twinkle in her eye was back. “Because I’m not dumb enough to think you actually want to go to dinner with me. I’m sure this is some effort to make sure I don’t sue you. Or for good publicity. But I’m also not stupid enough to turn down free dinner from a rockstar. I’m going to brag about this for years.”

  That made him smile. She was definitely unique because most women would never admit any of that out loud. “By the way, I should ask if you’re single because I don’t need some Paul Bunyon guy getting jealous.”

  She crooked her head. “One, I am single. Two, I think it’s perfectly acceptable to go to a publicity stunt dinner with someone famous. It’s not a date. If I had a boyfriend and he won dinner with a football player I wouldn’t care.”

  The logic seemed a little flawed to him. “Football players are generally male. That makes the comparison not really legit.” He was also a little offended that she was calling his invitation a publicity stunt.

  “Oh, good point. So if I had a boyfriend and he wanted to go to dinner with a supermodel…” Harper’s nose wrinkled. “Yeah, I probably wouldn’t like that. Never mind. I take it all back. But I don’t have a Paul Bunyon boyfriend so I can enjoy splashing my dinner with you all over social media.”

  He had never experienced a woman quite as honest as Harper. It was both a little sexy and a little unnerving. It made him want to tease her though and he gave her a small, charming smile. “First of all, it is a date. Two single people at dinner together is the very definition of a date. But I get what you’re saying- you just want a free meal and an opportunity to brag so if you want to use me, I’m also completely okay with that.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Hey! I’m not using you.” Her nose wrinkled again. It was a frequent and adorable gesture Stryker had already noticed several times.

  “You just said you are going solely to brag.”

  “Wait, I am, aren’t I?” Harper asked. “Well, I guess it’s a mutual using there is no issue. It’s kind of like the Emperor and Darth Vader.”

  A Star Wars reference? He could get down with that. “Who are you, the Emperor or Darth?”

  Harper made a face. “Neither, so again, I’ve screwed up the reference. I’m more like Chewbacca.” She held her hand up instantly. “I don’t mean hairy though.”

  That made him laugh out loud. “Good to know.”

  “More like I’m loyal. Emotional. Good with electronics.”

  Also good to know. Not to mention, very appealing. “I’m Han Solo. Also loyal. But full of bravado. I guess this means we should be best friends.” He winked.

  “Not if you don’t quit doing that,” she said. “Winking is for old men.”

  Again with the honesty. She was very entertaining, and the first woman in a very long time not to blow smoke up his ass. No one gave him as good as he got lately. “Let me have your number, Wookie. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can make plans. I’ll look up some restaurants. What is your favorite food?”

  “Honestly? Hot dogs.”

  Stryker felt his jaw drop. He had not been expecting that. He thought he might actually laugh out loud, but he managed to cover it with an amused cough. She was definitely unique and unlike any of the starlets and models he encountered in LA.

  She made a face and then started laughing herself.

  “Is that so?” he asked, raising his eyebrows up and down. “Also crucial information.”

  “That’s not what I meant! I mean I just like hot dogs. The edible kind.”

  He stayed silent and just let that hang there for a minute.


  “OMG, stop looking at me like that.” She tried to shift and made a face. “Ow. That hurts. And don’t turn my love for grade school cafeteria food into something perverted.”

  He held up his hands. “You’re the one who said it was dirty, not me.” Even though he had been thinking it.

  As he put her number in his phone, she was clearly fighting the urge to laugh all over again. Her mouth was twitching. “What?”

  “I keep thinking how in school boys used to call tater tots tater tits. How stupid was that?”

  “Very stupid. But every ten year old boy wants an excuse to say tit.” He shot her a grin. “At twenty-nine, the point isn’t to say it anymore or even see it. It’s to touch it.”

  “True. But I have to say, this escalated quickly,” she said. “I’m kind of embarrassed.”

  Stryker hoped it would go even faster the next night because he hadn’t wanted a woman the way he did Harper in a seriously long time. She was adorable. Funny. Snarky. Plus he would never see her again so he had one shot at the grand prize.

  She didn’t actually look the slightest bit embarrassed by their conversation. It was probably the first dishonest thing she had said since he’d walked into the room.

  He decided to push it a little further. “Good thing I didn’t offer to show you my light saber. Then things might really get out of hand.”

  She pointed her finger at him. “Han doesn’t have a light saber.”

  “This one does.”

  There it was- the blush he’d been seeking. Her cheeks turned pink and she moistened her full lips with the tip of her tongue. She ducked her head slightly and her hair tumbled forward, drawing attention to her cleavage. He wanted to kiss those luscious lips before sucking the swell of her breasts, drawing a soft moan from her. Harper would moan without inhibition. He was sure of it.

  “We’re mixing our metaphors,” she said.

  He didn’t care. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  “My lips are completely sealed.” Harper winked at him, which was her mocking herself mocking him for winking earlier.

  Damn it, she was cute.

  When Stryker left and went down to the limo, he was whistling. Minnesota was far more entertaining that he ever could have imagined. This music festival had been just another stop on an endless tour, while he had been determined to play it straight. No diva antics. No out-of-control partying. No drunk tweeting.

  Harper was good clean fun.

  The clumsy security guard deserved a bonus.

  Chapter Two

  “I don’t understand why you are not freaking out,” Ellie said as she watched Harper struggling to put on her shoes. “Here, let me help you.”

  Harper was huffing and puffing from the effort of trying to put on high heel boots with only one hand. She may have a clipped wing but she needed some height for all the selfies she planned to take with Stryker. He was a tall guy and she probably came up to his shoulder at best.

  “Thank you, good grief, this cast is a pain. Literally. But why should I be nervous? He’s just a hot, sexy, rich rockstar that I have less than zero chance with for anything other than casual conversation.”

  “You’re a strange creature. That’s precisely why I would be nervous.” Ellie bent over and zipped her boot.

  “Nah. It lets me off the hook. There are no expectations. I’m just having fun. I mean, how ridiculous is this situation? It’s not like he’s going to actually want to hook up with me, even if he was flirting. To a guy like that, it’s just in his DNA. He’s hard-wired to force a panty drop. It doesn’t mean he is interested in me.” She honestly didn’t care. She knew she was cute, she knew she was funny. She didn’t have a problem getting a date with a regular guy when she went looking for company. But Stryker was a lead singer in a band. Who was famous. He was rich. His last girlfriend, Rose Gold, had been some twig of a supermodel who while beautiful, was known for saying insensitive things on social media, and for trashing hotels and concert venues.

  “He likes divas,” she added. “Skinny, beautiful divas.”

  “I think he’s a diva himself,” Ellie admitted. “I saw he and Rose were being sued for damages to a hotel room somewhere. Also, can we just discuss why anyone would name their child Rose Gold?”

  That made Harper laugh. “I guess a supermodel who wanted to raise a future supermodel. It worked, didn’t it? Better than Cubic Zirconia.” She looked in the mirror and dabbed on some lipstick and adjusted her cleavage. She had it, in spades, so she might as well show it off just a tinge.

  “Are you wearing your hair like that?” Ellie asked. “I mean, you look fantastic, but the hair seems a little casual.”

  Harper had done a modified pair of Princess Leia buns. Not as tight, so a looser, modern interpretation. It was kind of her signature thing but she could see the hesitation on Ellie’s face, and her diplomatic attempt to have her take the buns down. “I am first and foremost, a nerd. I live inside pop culture. My hair makes me happy and I don’t really care if Stryker Evans thinks I’m a gigantic dork. Tonight is about me, not him. I want the buns in all the pictures so when I’m a thousand years old I can look back and think I was adorable.” She shifted the strap on her sling. She had a brand new hot pink cast on her arm and the break was sore, but not incapacitating. The Tylenol seemed to hold it at bay. “I mean, I had to break my arm to get the chance to meet a rockstar. I refuse to waste a single second of it.”

  “Fair enough. You are much more calm than I would be.”

  “Says the woman who tried to run up on stage. Not to mention all the other crazy scenarios you’ve gotten into lately. You are far more brave than I will ever be.”

  “Chasing destiny has made me slightly crazy, I must admit.”

  Harper’s phone rang. “Who is calling me? No one ever calls me.” She ignored it.

  Then a text message appeared on her screen. It’s Stryker. Just tried calling. I’m downstairs.

  Admittedly, her heart skipped a beat. She was not immune to the fact that the man was sexy as sin. “He’s downstairs.”

  “I can’t believe you have his actual phone number. The lead singer of Three Dog River is on your phone. You can text him at any time if you want. If I didn’t love you, I would hate you.”

  “It’s probably not his real number. I’m sure it’s a trakphone.” Harper didn’t believe for one minute a rockstar would hand out his number to a virtual stranger. She could be selling it to TMZ right now if he had and she was a gold digger. “Will you help me down the stairs so I don’t break my neck?” The heels and the sling might prove a deadly combination on the steep exterior steps of her apartment building.

  “Sure. Then I’m going home to be jealous. I expect you to text me constantly.”

  Harper paused and turned to give Ellie a hug. She was worried about her friend. Her pursuit of men named Chris based on a fortuneteller’s prediction seemed to be affecting her more than she wanted to admit. After four failed Chris’s, this Chris was number five, and now here Harper was being taken to dinner by him. “I’m not going to steal your Chris, I promise. This is just because a giant security guard fell on me like a tree trunk and snapped my arm.”

  Ellie hugged her back. “I know he’s not my Chris. Please don’t feel guilty! In fact, I’m starting to think there is no Chris for me. Enjoy your night, and if you have the opportunity to get naked with Stryker you need to go for it.”

  Harper pulled back and gave her best friend a head shake. “You’ve lost your mind. This is a dinner in a public place to absolve Stryker of guilt over my injury.” She raised her bum arm. “Now let’s go before I start to think about how hot he must look naked and I’m so distracted I fall down the stairs. You know I am not known for being graceful.” Taking a few steps, she wobbled in her heels, visions of Stryker laying in bed, all muscular and tattooed, beckoning to her with a lazy grin on his face, popping into her head unbidden. She tried to turn the knob to her front door and finally got it moving, shoving the door o
utward. “Damn. I already went there and pictured him naked.”

  Determined to be strong and stable and not take a face plant, she stepped forward, only to walk straight into Stryker. She bounced off his chest and he reached out to stabilize her. “Oh, damn, sorry! I thought you’d be downstairs.”

  His eyebrows rose above his sunglasses. He peeled them off and gave her a slow assessment, blue eyes sweeping over her from head to toe. “That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, now would it?”

  “I thought you were a bad boy. All into trashing hotel rooms and whatnot.” She meant it as a joke but he froze and made a face.

  “Don’t believe everything you hear on the entertainment news.”

  Harper felt contrite. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to…” To do what, she didn’t know.

  But he smiled and shrugged. “Never mind. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He looked around her. “Who’s your friend? And who are you picturing naked?”

  Oh, crap, he’d heard the naked part. She was just totally going to ignore that.

  “This is Ellie, my best friend.” She stepped to the side so Ellie could accept Stryker’s outstretched hand.

  Her friend was wide-eyed and murmuring, “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You, too, Ellie.”

  He held out his hand to Harper. “Shall we? How is your arm, by the way? Is your commi-whatever-the-hell-fracture doing better?”

  “Yes. All locked and loaded in a cast. No surgery required.” She glanced back at Ellie and gave her friend a goofy eye roll. “Ellie isn’t my roommate, by the way. She’s walking down with us and heading out for her own hot date.”

  Ellie gave a snort behind her.

  “Excellent.” Stryker helped her down the stairs with a hand on the small of her back. “Your hair looks cute, Harper. Though I have to say, you need to pick a character and stick with it. Darth Vader, Chewbacca, Leia, which one is it?”

  “Oh, lord, have been discussing Star Wars with him?” Ellie murmured, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear.

  “Yes. Don’t mock me.” Harper smiled at Stryker. “If you’re Han, it only seemed fitting.” Yes, she was flirting. Who could resist a voice like Stryker’s? She wondered if she could get him to sing for her. Just like eight beats. She wouldn’t be greedy.