Read Online Rock Starred: Love My Way by Karen Booth - Free Book Online
Authors: Karen Booth
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glanced down at Max, who was doing figure eights around my ankles. "What do you think, buddy? Somebody sent me flowers. When was the last time that happened?"
The hall echoed with the sounds of the delivery guy stomping up the stairs. He rounded the corner, a large spray of striking lavender roses disguising his face. "Wow," I said as he handed me the clipboard to sign and I took the vase. "Thank you."
I carried them inside and plucked the card from the plastic fork.
Katie,
Thanks for a perfect weekend. Can't wait to see you again.
Peter
I blew my bangs from my forehead. It didn't exactly work out with the last guy who'd given me flowers. Still, it was hard to escape the romanticism. Peter was pushing buttons again—buttons I didn't know I still had.
My phone sat on the bed. Peter deserved a call or at the very least a text, but my brain felt as if it were rolling around in my head. It was scary not knowing where this was going. When I was in control, with my rules in full effect, I always knew the destination even if it was going to be a very short trip. I sank down on the mattress and Max leapt onto the bed with me as I dialed Peter's number.
"Katie, hey," he said when he answered. "Whatever did I do to deserve a real phone call?" He asked the question with a distinct air of knowing exactly what I was about to say. "Not that I didn't enjoy our extended text exchange last night."
The smile prompted by his voice was inevitable. "You know what you did. Thank you for the flowers."
"They're beautiful. Such an unusual color."
"I thought they'd match the flecks of purple in your blue eyes."
My heart made a funny little pitter-pat. "I have flecks of purple in my eyes?"
"You do. I find them particularly mesmerizing."
I became so light-headed that I thought I might swoon. "Thank you. That's so sweet. I love them. You couldn't go wrong with the color, but I appreciate the extra effort."
"Good. I'm trying my hardest to keep from going wrong."
I heard giggles in the background, a woman's laugh. She sounded close, unpleasantly close, and it was only ten a.m. "What are you up to?" My pulse raced and I took a deep breath, stopping short of digging my fingernails into my thigh.
"I'm in the lobby of the hotel in Atlanta. Just waiting for our room keys."
"Who's there?" I was angry with myself the instant the question left my lips—flowers, a promise of a date when he came to New York. It didn't give me a claim on him, even when I was starting to feel as though I wanted one.
"Two secs," he said. There was a rustling on the line. "Hey. Sorry about that. I had to get away from Stony and the idiotic girl he met Saturday night. She followed us from Miami. She laughs at every fucking thing he says. Luckily we vetoed girlfriends on the bus."
"Oh. Sure." I blew out a breath quietly. Stop worrying.
There was another string of muffled sounds on his end of the line. "Katie, hey, sorry. I guess everybody's ready to go. Can I call you back in ten minutes?"
"I need to get to my studio and prepare for that shoot. I have a million emails to answer. Can we talk later?"
"Of course."
I chewed on my lower lip. "Tonight?"
"Yes. I'll call you before we play."
* * * * *
The time I'd spent preparing for Tuesday's photo shoot, with a young, hot shit band called No Picnic, had been time squandered. The session started in a nightmarish fashion and slid downhill from there. After a hellish day of dealing with bratty rock stars, I left my studio in Tribeca to walk to my loft apartment in SoHo. I had so much annoyance and anger coursing through me that I wondered if I might summon the strength to stomp a hole through the sidewalk.
Normally I'd call and bitch at Gwen, but my only urge was to talk to Peter. I kneaded my forehead, a headache brewing. I just needed to get this out of my system and Peter was the perfect sounding board. He knew bands. I figured he could relate.
"Katie," he answered after the first ring. "This is a nice
The hall echoed with the sounds of the delivery guy stomping up the stairs. He rounded the corner, a large spray of striking lavender roses disguising his face. "Wow," I said as he handed me the clipboard to sign and I took the vase. "Thank you."
I carried them inside and plucked the card from the plastic fork.
Katie,
Thanks for a perfect weekend. Can't wait to see you again.
Peter
I blew my bangs from my forehead. It didn't exactly work out with the last guy who'd given me flowers. Still, it was hard to escape the romanticism. Peter was pushing buttons again—buttons I didn't know I still had.
My phone sat on the bed. Peter deserved a call or at the very least a text, but my brain felt as if it were rolling around in my head. It was scary not knowing where this was going. When I was in control, with my rules in full effect, I always knew the destination even if it was going to be a very short trip. I sank down on the mattress and Max leapt onto the bed with me as I dialed Peter's number.
"Katie, hey," he said when he answered. "Whatever did I do to deserve a real phone call?" He asked the question with a distinct air of knowing exactly what I was about to say. "Not that I didn't enjoy our extended text exchange last night."
The smile prompted by his voice was inevitable. "You know what you did. Thank you for the flowers."
"They're beautiful. Such an unusual color."
"I thought they'd match the flecks of purple in your blue eyes."
My heart made a funny little pitter-pat. "I have flecks of purple in my eyes?"
"You do. I find them particularly mesmerizing."
I became so light-headed that I thought I might swoon. "Thank you. That's so sweet. I love them. You couldn't go wrong with the color, but I appreciate the extra effort."
"Good. I'm trying my hardest to keep from going wrong."
I heard giggles in the background, a woman's laugh. She sounded close, unpleasantly close, and it was only ten a.m. "What are you up to?" My pulse raced and I took a deep breath, stopping short of digging my fingernails into my thigh.
"I'm in the lobby of the hotel in Atlanta. Just waiting for our room keys."
"Who's there?" I was angry with myself the instant the question left my lips—flowers, a promise of a date when he came to New York. It didn't give me a claim on him, even when I was starting to feel as though I wanted one.
"Two secs," he said. There was a rustling on the line. "Hey. Sorry about that. I had to get away from Stony and the idiotic girl he met Saturday night. She followed us from Miami. She laughs at every fucking thing he says. Luckily we vetoed girlfriends on the bus."
"Oh. Sure." I blew out a breath quietly. Stop worrying.
There was another string of muffled sounds on his end of the line. "Katie, hey, sorry. I guess everybody's ready to go. Can I call you back in ten minutes?"
"I need to get to my studio and prepare for that shoot. I have a million emails to answer. Can we talk later?"
"Of course."
I chewed on my lower lip. "Tonight?"
"Yes. I'll call you before we play."
* * * * *
The time I'd spent preparing for Tuesday's photo shoot, with a young, hot shit band called No Picnic, had been time squandered. The session started in a nightmarish fashion and slid downhill from there. After a hellish day of dealing with bratty rock stars, I left my studio in Tribeca to walk to my loft apartment in SoHo. I had so much annoyance and anger coursing through me that I wondered if I might summon the strength to stomp a hole through the sidewalk.
Normally I'd call and bitch at Gwen, but my only urge was to talk to Peter. I kneaded my forehead, a headache brewing. I just needed to get this out of my system and Peter was the perfect sounding board. He knew bands. I figured he could relate.
"Katie," he answered after the first ring. "This is a nice
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