Sweet Temptation: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players, Book 3)
I muttered, heading for the foyer. I heard a little laugh and turned to find Jessa in the kitchen. “Oh. You heard that?”She smiled at me sympathetically. “Yeah. I also heard about what happened. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“I’m glad,” she said, and gave me a hug. “It must’ve been scary.”
“Sure, I guess,” I said, distracted by the small human toddling out of the kitchen past us.
“Ah, there he goes.” Jessa followed her little boy, Nicholas, into the foyer, and I went with them. “Do you want to talk about it?” she offered, keeping one eye on her kid as he wobbled along with determination on his chubby little legs.
“Not really.” I was already tired of everyone asking about it. I felt weirdly defensive, like I’d done something wrong and gotten in trouble for it.
Irrational, yes.
Last night, I’d overheard Ronan telling Brody, when he walked him out to his car—yes, I’d been eavesdropping from my window upstairs—something about how I might be in “flight mode” for a while.
Fuck him for being right.
I wanted as much distance between myself and this shit as I could get. Unfortunately, it seemed to be coming right along with me.
Jessa was eying me with concern. Nick was still toddling around in the foyer, and she caught him right before he put Ash’s shoe in his mouth.
“How’s the little cutie?” I asked, looking to deflect. “I see he’s walking.”
“Oh, he’s a handful,” she said, picking him up. “It’s so amazing when they start walking. But then the reality sinks in. He’s a lot more work now that he’s mobile.” She bounced him on her hip and fixed me with that concerned look again.
I really couldn’t get away from it. Everyone was looking at me that way today.
Everyone but Ronan, who seemed so totally calm and cool that it was both calming and irritating to behold. The man had this controlled, efficiency-under-pressure thing going on that was really fucking annoying me right now.
Maybe because it was so damn hot.
Kinda almost made me want to keep him around, even though I really didn’t. I did not fucking need a bodyguard.
“You know what?” I told Jessa. “I refuse to allow one crazy person with severe boundary issues to have the power to change my entire way of life.”
“Uh, are you talking about Brody? Or one of the other guys?”
“I’m talking about the guy who tried to break into my house,” I said dryly.
“Oh.” She laughed a little. I could definitely see how she’d misinterpreted that one. “Are you really okay, Summer?”
I sighed. “Do they treat you like that, too? Like a child who needs to be bubble-wrapped so she doesn’t get any bumps and bruises?”
Surely, the woman standing in front of me had been through these kinds of conversations with her husband. Jessa was a lingerie model—or at least, she had been—and she was a songwriter for Dirty. Maybe she wasn’t as famous as some of his clients, but Brody was protective as hell about his wife.
“Well, they treat me like someone who’s important to them,” she said thoughtfully, “and who sometimes needs protecting. And these days, I’m thankful for it. Believe me, if you have to have someone watching your back, you want it to be the men in that room. They know what they’re doing, Summer, and all they want is for you to be safe. You’re important to them.”
I made an annoyed sound under my breath.
But then I wondered… Maybe I could get some intel off her?
“Do you know this Ronan guy?”
“Only by name,” she said. “But I can tell you, Brody wouldn’t have him here, in our house, with Nicky here, if he didn’t totally trust him.”
I looked at Brody’s son in her arms, and I knew that had to be true. I brushed my knuckle gently on his soft, pudgy cheek.
“Thanks, Jessa. I think I need some air. Let them know I’m in the driveway before they panic and call in the search-and-rescue team.”
“Will do,” she said, but she gave me that concerned look again. “Stay close, okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
I pulled on my jacket, stepped outside and took a fresh breath of air. It was a cool, crisp October morning, but the sun was out.
I’d barely even exhaled when the door opened behind me. I turned to see who was hovering now.
Ashley.
He sauntered out, closing the door behind himself. I sighed a little.
My ex-boyfriend was easy enough to read, for me. Usually, he didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone told him to do, including me. The black T-shirt he was wearing right now under his leather jacket said: Shut your mouth before I fuck it.
Pretty much said it all.
But I knew, on this, he was listening carefully to what everyone said in Brody’s office.
He pulled out a joint and lit up, offering it to me. I took a little puff, then passed it back.
“Whatever you’re gearing up to say,” I told him, “don’t.”
Of course, he didn’t listen.
“I agree with them,” he informed me. “You need security—”
“Ugh. Don’t start. I got enough from Elle already. She was all, ‘take all the love you’re offered today,’ and ‘do it for me.’”
“Fuck love. I’d take the big dudes with guns and a hard-on for playing bodyguard.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You need a bodyguard, Summer. Some asshole broke into your house.”
“He didn’t actually break in. Why is everyone exaggerating the facts?”
“He climbed onto the balcony outside your bedroom. If people seem to be exaggerating facts, it’s because they’re fucking appalled and they’re worried about you.”
“Who told you all that? Brody?”
“Summer. Forget about everyone else. I know you don’t like being strong-armed, especially by a bunch of dudes. And I know you’ve got your girls and your entourage, but you need someone who isn’t drinking or drugging watching your back.”
“Says the dude smoking a joint right now.”
He stared at me, undeterred. “I’d like to know that someone whose only concern is your safety, no ulterior motives and no distractions, is looking out for you. We all want that.”
I knew he