Finding Chris Evans: The Rockstar Edition Read online

  Harper licked her lips. “I would never insult your manhood.”

  She was killing him. “Don’t say things like that unless you want to leave the friend zone and dive into the down and dirty zone.”

  She blinked. “It’s very difficult to have a conversation that can’t in some way be twisted into something sexual.”

  “Tell me about your job.”

  “I’m a data analyst for a chemical corporation. I love the inflexibility of numbers. I geek out over graphs. I love identifying trends in the data.”

  She was adorable when she talked mathematics. But it wasn’t exactly sexy. “See? No innuendos there.” Stryker took her hand and led her to the rental car.

  “Good point.” Harper tried to climb in without his help but she basically tipped over and he ended up with an eyeball of her curvy backside closer to his face than should be legal. Everything inside him was twisted up in agonized knots. This really wasn’t fair. The first woman he wanted in months and she refused to have sex with him. Of course, the fact that she wasn’t interested in him as a rockstar, but a man, was half the reason he was attracted to her in the first place.

  He stared at her ass, thoroughly distracted. “I’m trying to think how I can help you right now without putting my hands where they don’t belong, but I’m out of ideas.”

  “I’ve got it, I’m fine,” she said down into the gearshift, her voice breathless. “Everything’s good.” Her head popped back up, one of her buns hitting him in the face. “Oh, sorry.”

  Stryker grinned. “Weren’t you going to be taking selfies and tweeting all night, by the way? What happened to that?”

  He expected her to make a joke or tease him back. But she just shook her head. “I don’t feel like bragging. I don’t feel like using you.”

  Something shifted inside him. He had an instant lump in his throat. There was something so beautiful and perfect about her that he felt rocked to his core. No pun intended. This was what he wanted- someone to actually give a shit about him. The man. Not the musician.

  “I don’t feel like using you either,” he said. “I feel like being friends.”

  She smiled. “Deal. Only that means you can’t kiss me again.”

  He swore, feigning shock. “Wait. Nobody told me that.”

  “Get in the car, you crazy rebel.”

  Harper curiously followed Stryker onto the tour bus. She was expecting some kind of splashy rocker décor, with red velvet, black skulls, and a full bar of top-shelf alcohol. She was sorely disappointed to discover there was nothing but a standard royal blue upholstery, some duffle bags and equipment lying around, and half empty soda cans on the table. “Where is everyone?” she asked.

  “In the hotel. The bus is for traveling and sleeping only if we drive overnight. Most nights we get hotel rooms.”

  That shattered her vision of the band jamming down the road. Maybe she had glorified the lifestyle of a rock band more than she had realized. “That definitely sounds more comfortable.”

  “Yeah, not to mention I prefer not to see Gorger and his girlfriend knocking boots all night. She’s on tour with him.”

  “No, I don’t think I would like that either.” Especially since she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex. Actually, that was a lie. It had been in February, right before Colin broke up with her. They’d been dating for three weeks and after an all-night Lord of the Rings marathon where she’d gotten juiced up on three caramel lattes, she had been ready to go next level. Colin had as well, only to him next level meant sex, then hit the road, toots. Watching someone else have sex? Unbearable.

  She was confident about her decision to hold Stryker and his flirting at bay, but that didn’t mean it didn’t suck. He was hot. She was horny. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity to have no-strings attached sex with a star. But… but. She just didn’t want to go there because then she would fantasize and spend hours planning her imaginary wedding to Stryker, knowing it was all a silly daydream, while he never thought about her ever again, and she wanted to save herself the time.

  Plus she liked him.

  He pulled a guitar case out from under the table and flipped it open. “Not my stage guitar. That’s upstairs. But this is just one for us to kick around with when we’re bored. Have a seat.”

  He gestured to the couch and waited until she sat down before moving in front of her with a sexy smile. He played a few chords and Harper basically felt all of her insides melt like chocolate in New Orleans in August. She knew because she’d left some in her purse on a girls’ trip there the year before. Mushy mess. That’s what she was. Because Stryker had charisma. He had tight pants. He had a voice that made her ovaries flutter. But this breathless sense of anticipation, this feeling of genuinely clicking with him, was something she didn’t want to lose.

  So she relaxed onto the couch, tucking her feet under her legs and rested her broken arm in her lap. He started singing and she didn’t recognize the song at all. Then he paused for a second to think and she realized that he was making the song up as he went along. It was about a girl.

  And her beautiful smile.

  If that was about her, she was going to go down in an old-school swoon. He hesitated so long she thought maybe he had nothing left to say. Her buns were too tight and bothering her, so she reached up and pulled out the hair ties that were holding her twists in place. Yanking them out she shook her hair loose. Stryker made a sound and she looked up and realized he was watching her with definite lust. Admiration. And something else she didn’t recognize.

  “She doesn’t know her power,” he sang.

  She wished she had power. A superpower. Now that would be awesome.

  Stryker dropped his guitar. “Hm. I need to work on this one later. You’re a little distracting.”

  “Oh! I’m sorry.” Harper dropped her good hand back down into her lap. “I didn’t mean to distract you.”

  “Don’t apologize. It’s worth it.” Stryker sat down next to her. “Can I get you a drink?”

  She nodded and asked him about his music process. His eyes lit up and she could see his passion for what he did. They had easy conversation, and he was intelligent, funny. Entertaining. They got each others’ humor. He didn’t feel like a celebrity at all to her, which was dangerous.

  Three platonic but sexually charged hours later she faked a yawn. She needed to leave before she started to want something she couldn’t have- him. “I think I should head home. My arm is starting to bother me.” It was, but it wasn’t the real reason she needed to leave his company. She instantly felt guilty for using it as an excuse because he immediately looked contrite.

  “Shit, I’m so sorry, Harper. Do you want an ice pack or something? Some ibuprofen?” He jumped up off the couch.

  That made her feel awful. “No, no, it’s fine.” She realized she had to be honest as she stood up herself and stretched. She was stiff from sitting so long. “I had a good time tonight, Stryker. Maybe too good of a time.”

  He paused in the middle of yanking open the fridge. “Is there such a thing as too good of a time?”

  “Yeah, there is actually.” She needed to return to her ordinary life, which she was actually quite content with normally. When rockstars weren’t taking her out for a hot dog and to personally serenade her. “But thank you for a very wonderful evening. I really enjoyed talking to you.”

  And kissing him.

  It hung in the air between them. He pulled out a water bottle and shut the fridge. Holding it out to her, he nodded. “I really enjoyed it too. You’re a very cool chick, Harper. I’m glad we met.”

  A cool chick. She liked the sound of that. She took the water bottle. “Thank you.” She suddenly felt awkward, unsure what to say next.

  Stryker smiled. “Let’s get you home then.” He helped her down the steps of the tour bus and to his SUV and safely into the passenger seat.

  “I think I’m back in Minnesota in the spring,” he said, apropos of nothing.

  Her
heart squeezed, the traitorous organ. “Oh, yeah? I’ll be in LA in January for ComicCon.”

  “Wow. Fun. Have you been before?”

  They had reverted to polite and it was weird. “Yes.”

  Ask me to see you in LA, she silently screamed. Say we should hang out.

  He walked her to her apartment, made sure she got inside okay and Harper hovered, not sure how to say goodbye. “Can I have just one selfie? For my own private use?” Damn it, that sounded like she was going to really have a fantasy or two rolling about him.

  His lips twitched.

  “I mean to remember and all.” Which sounded so lame. Totally, utterly lame. She held up her finger. “Wait a second. Sign my cast please.”

  “I can do that.” Stryker came into her apartment and stood there, staring at her intently while she ran for a permanent marker from her kitchen. She thrust it out at him. Stryker signed her cast with a flourish then took her phone from her. “My arms are longer. I’ll take the selfie.”

  “Good call.” She smiled into the camera, shocked to see her face so close to his, check on cheek. He did a burst so there were multiple shots.

  “I should go,” he said, clearing his throat, after he handed her the phone back. “Do you think I can call you sometime? Just to talk? As friends?”

  It was everything she could have hoped for because the thought of never, ever seeing him again or ever speaking to him again? Horrible. Appalling. Sad, sad Harper. She nodded, trying to keep up the cool chick. “I would like that.”

  “Fantastic. Take care, Harper.”

  “Safe travels.” Ugh, they were so weird and polite.

  Stryker tweaked her nose. Then he was gone.

  Harper hated herself for not having sex with him. Really, how stupid could she be? She closed the door and locked the deadbolt, wanting to groan out loud but afraid he would hear it. Shifting her sling back, she inspected his signature.

  It didn’t say Stryker Evans.

  Han Solo.

  That’s what he had signed.

  She laughed out loud.

  Chapter Four

  Stryker was due on stage in thirty minutes but when Harper’s smiling face pressed against his popped up on screen with the name “Chewie” he couldn’t help but answer. She knew he had a show, so her reason for calling must be important.

  “Hey, what’s up?” he said, propping his phone on his shoulder so he could lace up his boots. In the month since he’d met Harper, they had talked every day. It varied depending on his schedule and whether she was at work or not, but without fail it was the favorite part of his day. They had already talked for about fifteen minutes earlier that afternoon so he was surprised to get another call, and worried something was wrong.

  Harper had become ridiculously important to him. He was in San Antonio, the twentieth city in thirty days, and when he lay in his hotel room or rode on the bus and heard her laughter in his ear, he wasn’t lonely. Her voice felt like the home he’d been missing.

  “Guess what happened to me today?” she said without any other greeting.

  “Um…” He thought about what she had said was going on in her life. “You had a three martini lunch with Ellie?”

  She laughed. “No. My job would be a little tricky after slinging vodka. Try again.”

  “You got laid?” He hoped that wasn’t it. Because there was no question whatsoever that he would be jealous. Harper wanted a friend in him and he cherished the hell out of that relationship but at the same time, he wanted more. He wanted all of her.

  “Ew, no!”

  That made him laugh. “Why is that ew?”

  “Because why would I tell you about that?”

  He finished lacing his boots and stomped his feet on the floor to make sure they felt comfortable. He stood up and reached for his guitar. If he couldn’t rock Harper, he would have to rock the audience. “Because friends talk about their love lives.”

  “I don’t want to hear about your love life,” she said flatly. “Let’s just get that clear right now.”

  That made him grin. She was just as jealous as he was. “Okay then. So you tell me what happened since I suck at guessing and I need to be on stage in twenty-five minutes.”

  “I got my cast off! I am fully functional once again.”

  “Hey, that’s good news, congrats.” She had expressed a lot of frustration over the difficulties of life with a cast, so he was thrilled for her to have her mobility back. “Now you can do cart-wheels, take up archery, and soak in the hot tub.”

  She gave a peel of laughter that did things to his insides. Every time they spoke, his feelings for Harper grew, and he was simultaneously loving it, and getting frustrated as hell.

  “I’ve never been able to do a cart-wheel. Not even when I was four and weighed thirty pounds and had the flexibility of a rubberband. I have zero athletic ability. Archery could be fun though only if you let me dress like Joan of Arc. As for a hot tub, if I had one available to me, I would cannonball into that sucker right now. It’s freezing outside. How is it almost Thanksgiving already?”

  “Good questions. Are you spending it with your folks?” If she said no he was going to open his mouth and suggest they go to Cabo together, his treat. As friends. In separate rooms. He mentally groaned and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Shit. He had a freaking hard on. In tight jeans.

  “Yes. How about you?”

  No Cabo then. “I’m not sure. We have a show on Saturday.”

  “Aw, that sucks. Well, I should let you go. Good luck tonight. Break a leg. Haha.”

  “Thanks, Harper. Goodnight.”

  He hung up and was about to shove his phone into his pocket when he saw she’d sent him a picture. Tapping his phone he made it bigger. The image made him smile. It was Harper, giving him metal horns with her cast-free arm and hand and pointing to it with the other. She was so not metal it wasn’t even funny but she looked adorable. She also wasn’t wearing a bra. She had on a tank top and pajama pants, after work chill. Her hair was loose and luxurious and her eyes were still done up for work, with heavy makeup and eyeliner.

  That was not going to help his erection.

  He stared at the picture so long his vision blurred. He had it bad. There was no other explanation for it and while he had briefly considered the fact that he wanted her solely because he couldn’t have her, he knew that wasn’t true. If it was just about the challenge or about wanting to have sex with her, he would have gotten bored with their conversations weeks ago, but he looked forward to hearing her voice every day.

  She had become his best friend.

  He texted her.

  Badass.

  Then impulsively he sent her a kiss emoji because it was how he felt.

  Without waiting to see her response he put his phone in his pocket and went to meet the guys. On stage he played hard, shredding his guitar, pouring his soul out for San Antonio. The heat of the lights, the scream of the crowd, were intoxicating.

  And the only thing that could distract him from the quirky woman with the banging curves and a lusty laugh.

  “What the heck?” Harper asked as she'd opened her apartment door when the doorbell rang and tripped over a giant box. She almost took a facer but recovered her balance at the last minute and waved to the deliveryman, who was running back down the steps. She eyed the label. It was from Stryker.

  The warmth of pleasure spread throughout her body- a now familiar feeling. After two months of talking to him every day she could not deny that her plan to keep it real had completely and utterly failed. Bending over and shoving the box into her apartment she grunted a little. Her arm was still weak. Actually her arm had always been weak, now she was just extra nervous to use it. “Help,” she called to her sister-in-law Taryn, who was over with her nephew for a visit.

  Taryn came into the hallway and eyed the box. “Christmas shopping?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Together, they got it into the living room and Harper blew her
hair out of her eyes. Using scissors she opened the box, being careful to keep the scissors up and away from Aidan. There were multiple boxes inside, gift wrapped in Christmas paper. “Oh, it’s Christmas presents from Stryker.” That was really sweet of him. It was still a whole week before the holiday.

  Her sister-in-law raised her eyebrows. “Really? You do know that’s not normal, right? To talk to a rockstar every day and have him buy you presents? What does he want, Harper?”

  She lifted the first box out carefully. “He wants a friend. And I like being his friend.”

  Taryn bit her lip. “Don’t fall for him. You’ll get hurt, you know.”

  “I know.” She did. That’s why their relationship was both thrilling and torture. She was falling in love with him. She knew she was. She could feel it inside her marrow, in every cell, in the roots of her freaking hair. She was falling in love with Stryker, but she was gambling that friendship would be enough for her, because she couldn’t be with him.

  He didn’t want her that way. Aside from one single kiss emoji he treated her like a buddy and part of her wondered if that was her fault. If she had been more open to crossing the line and having sex, would it have become something more? Or would it have just ruined a beautiful friendship that hadn’t bloomed at the time? She thought it was the latter.

  So she was stuck. “We’re just friends,” she told Taryn. “He’s a nice guy. He’s funny, smart, talented as hell.”

  “Except you want it to be more. Don’t lie to me.” Taryn eyed her with concern.

  Her sister-in-law was insanely skinny, with long blonde hair. She looked like the J. Crew model had strolled into Harper’s living room. She had been popular in high school and an athlete through college and beyond. They had a great relationship but sometimes Harper got the sense that Taryn felt sorry for her. That she wished Harper would tone down the nerd just a bit and hit the gym instead of comic conventions, though she would never in a million years say that.