Chapter 3

“What do you mean you put him on hold?” Charlotte asked. “That was him?”

Panic built inside Riley’s chest. “He found me.”

“He must be really interested.” Charlotte smiled and shook her head, clearly trying to understand why Riley had a death grip on the phone and wouldn’t pick it up. Riley had no explanation for her. She didn’t understand anything right now.

She knew Evan Garfield could most certainly not be interested in her. He was the lead singer for Georgia Panic, a world-famous band that had just finished their multi-billion dollar tour right here in Getaway Bay.

She’d berated herself for three days that she hadn’t recognized him. Had to be the beanie, the sneak.

And he’d emailed her, asking for her number and to go out for another latte. She’d ignored him, hoping that would be that.

And now he was on hold.

“He knows where I work now.” She groaned, because she didn’t need the tall, handsome rockstar to walk through the door. Panicking fully now, she cut a glance toward the door. No one was there.

“I’ll talk to him,” Charlotte said, and before Riley could move, her friend had picked up the phone. “Yes, hello, this is Charlotte Dane. How may I help you?” A few seconds passed. “Hello?”

Riley looked at her, desperate for news. “What? What’s he saying?”

Charlotte hung up the phone, and Riley almost started crying. She was all over the place right now, wanting to talk to Evan and not wanting to. “He’s not there. The line was dead.”

Dead.

Like Riley’s nerves these last few days.

But a rockstar?

A multi-platinum lead singer?

The sexiest man alive?

No, no, no. He was not interested in her.

“Maybe I dodged a bullet,” she said as Charlotte rounded the front desk and headed for her office. She looked down at her computer, at a calendar she’d been organizing before Evan’s call had come in.

“Uh, Riley?”

“Yeah?” She looked up again to find Charlotte frozen, facing the front door.

The bell on it chimed a moment later, and none other than the gorgeous Evan Garfield walked in. Alone. Wearing only board shorts.

Riley stared at his beautiful, tan skin, those muscles that bumped their way up his chest, finally looking into those eyes for the very first time.

And she was so right. They were dark, and dreamy, and absolutely dangerous to her health.

“I found you,” he said easily, as if he hadn’t stolen the last three nights of good sleep from her. “Why didn’t you answer my email?”

Riley blinked, kicking herself into action. “You emailed?”

He chuckled, which so wasn’t fair. “You’re not a good liar.”

No, she wasn’t, and she had no idea what to say next.

“When is your lunch?” he asked, repeating his question from the phone call.

“Right now,” Charlotte said before Riley could make a peep. “She was just saying how she wanted a big salad from Pepe’s.”

“Charlotte,” Riley growled.

“Great,” Evan said as if Riley hadn’t spoken. “I haven’t eaten there yet, but our drummer says it’s fantastic.”

Our drummer.

So he wasn’t trying to hide who he was anymore. Curiosity nagged at Riley, and she wondered why he’d put on the costume to meet her at the coffee shop a few days ago. Her mother had always told her that curiosity killed the cat, but today, it was going to buy her lunch.

“Fine,” she said, pouring her frustration into her voice. “You can buy me a salad at Pepe’s.” She left her purse secured in her bottom drawer and just grabbed her phone. She glared at Charlotte as she passed, but Charlotte gave her a double thumbs-up.

How embarrassing.

Riley avoided looking directly at Evan as she passed, though she felt the weight of his smile. She felt as hot as the sun as she went outside ahead of him, who didn’t seem to notice or care about the tension in the air. But it choked her, and she didn’t know how to get rid of it.

A breeze blew off the bay, and she paused for a moment, trying to get a decent breath.

“She seems nice,” Evan said, sidling up beside her. “How long have you known her?”

“A while,” Riley said, as she didn’t normally talk about her friends while flirting with a man. It seemed surreal that she’d attracted this man’s attention at the coffee shop. There was no one else there, she told herself, just as she’d been doing for the past few days.

“How’d you get here so fast?” she asked, finally allowing herself to look at him. Oh, that was a mistake, because her stomach took a dive, and her heartbeat started sprinting, and everything female in her wanted to give him her phone number. Then they could have this lunch together, and text all afternoon as they made plans for dinner.

Without the beanie, she could see his head full of dark brown hair. The beach breeze played with it, and Riley was jealous of a wind for the first time in her life. Evan slid a pair of sunglasses over his eyes, but she’d seen the depth of them. No wonder he’d been voted Sexiest Man Alive. Those eyes could devour a woman in less time than it took to inhale.

“I was just sitting down the beach a bit,” he said, pointing north. “With a couple of friends. You want to meet them?”

She let her gaze drip down his body and back to his face. “You’ll need a shirt for Pepe’s.”

A grin burst onto his face. “Ah, so there’s the woman I met at the coffee shop.” He leaned closer, though the hot concrete had to be burning his feet. “I’ve been waiting for you to email me back, you know.”

Riley started walking, because then the conversation would flow better. She’d be able to look somewhere besides right at him, and maybe the sky would swallow some of her insecurity. “I wasn’t going to email you back,” she said.

“Why not?” Evan’s hand brushed hers, and Riley really wanted to grab onto his fingers. She didn’t, her throat sticky now.

“Because,” she said. “I have a strict no-dating-tourists rule for myself.”

“I’m not a tourist,” he said.

She started laughing, but it wasn’t the flirtatious kind that told a man she wanted him to ask her for her number. More maniacal. Riley felt wildly out of control, and that wasn’t a good thing. It meant she’d say whatever came to her mind, and she always regretted doing so afterward.

“You don’t live here,” she said.

“Well, that’s true.”

“In fact, you maintain residences in Sutherland Heights, Grand Cayman, and California.” She looked at him, her eyebrows cocked.

“Maybe I’ll maintain one in Getaway Bay,” he said easily, meeting her gaze. “It’s really beautiful here.” He paused, touching her arm to get her to stop too.

She froze, because the zinging of electrons up her arm required all of her thought.

“You’re really beautiful,” he said. “And I feel like I’ve missed out on three days of getting to know you. Three days of fun. Three days of big salads and laughing on the beach and texting all night long.”

Riley blinked at him, sure she’d started hallucinating. Men didn’t talk like this. Did they?

Evan’s not just any man, she told herself. He was a freaking rock icon. Every woman in the world would probably give a kidney to meet him, and she’d held his phone for a few seconds, about to put her number in it.

No wonder she hadn’t emailed him back. He wasn’t real. She’d legit gone crazy.

“Evan,” someone called, and relief rushed through Riley. His entourage would sweep him away from her, and she wouldn’t have to come up with a response to the most perfect words on the planet.

She faded a step or two behind him as he gave his attention to a tattooed man walking toward them, sand flying around his feet as he walked. DJ Brickey, the bass player. He was almost as famous as Evan Garfield, swoon-worthy, sexy, mysterious lead singer of Georgia Panic. A rail-thin woman came with DJ, and they both looked at Riley and smiled.

“Oh, you found her,” DJ said. “Hey there. I’m DJ Brickey.” He extended his hand for her to shake, which she managed to do. “My partner, Lisa.”

“So great to meet you,” Lisa said, shaking her hand too. “Evan’s been talking—”

“Thanks, Lisa,” Evan said loudly. “And I did find her. We were just coming to meet you and let you know we’re going to Pepe’s for lunch.” He did not invite them to come with him.

“Your brother isn’t going to be happy about that.”

“Oh, Carl will be fine,” Evan said dismissively. “I’m on vacation, and I don’t need a babysitter.” He glanced at Riley, and she couldn’t be quite sure, but it certainly looked like a flush had entered his face.

“Why won’t Carl be happy about Pepe’s?” Riley asked.

Everyone stared at her for two breaths, and then DJ started laughing. “I see why you like her.” He threaded his fingers through Lisa’s, and they turned back toward a smattering of towels on the sand. DJ stooped to pick up a Frisbee, and he jogged toward the shoreline where a few other men stood.

“So those are some of my friends,” Evan said, still watching them. He reached over and tentatively slipped his fingers through Riley’s. “Carl won’t like me going off on my own. My brother’s a little overprotective of me, though I’m the oldest.”

Riley really liked the way his hand felt in hers. She looked at their fingers and then up to his face. “You’re the oldest? I’m the youngest.”

“Of how many?” he asked, gently tugging on her hand to get her moving again.

“Five,” she said. “Two older brothers and two older sisters.”

“Are you close with them?” he asked.

Riley had easy access to a lot of things about Evan. How old he was. His middle name. Where he’d grown up. His past relationships. It was all right there on the Internet, and she’d read some of it in pure disbelief that he’d sat down beside her at the coffee shop and flirted with her.

“Yes,” she said, bringing herself back to this moment. She vowed she wouldn’t look up anything else about him. That way, she could get to know him the way she would any other man. “I just got back from a week-long anniversary party for my parents. It was their fiftieth.”

“Oh, wow,” Evan said, chuckling. “Good for them.”

“Yeah, it was a little crazy,” Riley said, starting to relax. Strolling down the boardwalk, hand-in-hand with a gorgeous man, was pretty much what she dreamed about at night. “But I do love them.”

“I have the two brothers,” he said. “They’re part of the management team for the band. So I spend every day with them.”

Riley glanced at him again, finding this personal side of him…refreshing. “You sound…neutral about that?”

“Neutral? I guess.” He shrugged. “Carl and I argue a lot. Brett tries to make us get along.”

“I’m kind of the black sheep in my family,” she said.

“In what way?”

“Well, everyone but me is married,” she said. “So they all have someone. I have six nieces and nephews, and my sister is pregnant, so they’ll all have children soon.” She watched the waves roll in for a few seconds. “So I don’t quite fit.”

“I understand that,” he said. “I don’t quite fit anywhere I go.”

“That’s because you’re a famous rockstar and easily recognizable.” She bumped him with her shoulder, realizing he’d never gotten that shirt.

He chuckled and ducked his head. “You didn’t recognize me at the coffee shop.”

“The beanie really threw me off,” she teased. “And now this shirtless look is tripping me out.” She stared at his chest, memorizing the lines of a tattoo he had running across his right shoulder, almost kissing his collarbone.

She cleared her throat at the same time he pulled his hand away. “Be right back.” He took a couple of steps back the way they’d come. “Wait.” He turned toward her again. “Don’t disappear again, okay?”

“You know where I work now,” she said. “I can’t disappear for long.”

He grinned and jogged toward the towels, where a couple more people had gathered—including the two from the coffee shop. His brothers. She’d read that they were the trio of intellect behind the band, and Brett wrote music and songs while Carl managed the band. He booked gigs, and managed personalities and schedules, and probably did a lot of what Riley did for Your Tidal Forever.

They both looked toward her as Evan pulled a T-shirt over his head, covering all those delicious muscles and all that tan skin.

All three of them came toward her, and Riley really wanted to run again. The storm on Evan’s face broadcasted his displeasure, but he hadn’t told his brothers no.

“Riley,” he said as he got closer. “This is my brother, Carl.” He indicated the man directly next to him. “And Brett.”

“So great to meet you properly,” Brett said, oozing Southern charm and kindness. Their mother had taught them well, that was for sure.

“Thank you,” Riley said. She’d worked with a lot of high-profile brides—and their mothers—in stressful situations. She could meet the Garfield brothers. “You too.” She shook his hand and then Carl’s, who didn’t say anything.

“So we’re going to lunch,” Evan said, stepping in front of them. “Riley has to be back to work soon, so I won’t be gone long.”

“You have your phone?” Carl asked.

“Yes, Mother,” Evan said with a laugh, nudging Riley to turn around. They walked away, but Riley could plainly feel the weight of four eyes on her back.

“Sorry about that,” Evan said. “Sometimes they forget I’m forty-two and not four.”

“You don’t go off on your own very often,” she said, pieces clicking together. “That was why you brought them to the coffee shop.”

“Oh, Carl was convinced you were some crazed fan, claiming to have my watch.” Evan claimed her hand again, and Riley could get used to her rockstar boyfriend coming to get her for lunch each day.

“Maybe I am,” she said.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Evan leaned closer, the heat from his body setting Riley’s cells on fire. “You didn’t even know who I was. It was very refreshing.”

“And you don’t get many people who don’t know who you are,” she said, everything becoming clearer now. If she had fallen all over him, he wouldn’t have given her the time of day. Literally. He’d have taken his watch back and gotten the heck out of the coffee shop with his brother bodyguards.

She should pull her hand away, claim she wasn’t hungry, and hurry back to her desk. She almost did, but Evan kneaded her closer and said, “You’re not running away from me again, Riley Randall.”