Page 8 of Guarding the Rock Star
“If you are allegedly my cousin, I should know a thing or two about you, right? Like how old you are.”
She glanced briefly upward as if she were seeking divine inspiration.
“I’m forty-four.”
Nine years older than me, I noted, although I was going to be thirty-six in a few weeks. Something in Chloe’s bag beeped, breaking our latest stare-off.
“I’ve got to go,” Chloe told us. “I’ll text you later to see how things are going.”
“Be good,” she mouthed from behind Wanda.
I blew her a kiss, earning me another icy glare from Wanda.
Once Chloe left my penthouse we sat in silence for a few minutes, each of us lost in thought.
“I need to take a shower,” I finally said. “I’m still sticky from my workout. If you’re not going to leave, let me show you to your room.”
Wanda grabbed a duffle bag she’d left in the entryway and followed me through the dining room.
“Are you okay if I store some bottled blood in the refrigerator?” she asked. “It keeps longer if I can keep it cool.”
“Sure.”
I was dying to ask questions about being a vampire, but I didn’t want to be rude. I could google it.
“Since you’re determined to stay, you might as well make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.”
“I have two guest bedrooms,” I said as we entered the hallway. “This one and this one.” I pointed to the corresponding doors. “This one has an en-suite, but the other is closer to my room. It’s also much smaller.”
“I’ll take that one,” she said quickly, nodding towards the room next to mine.
Somehow I knew she would pick that one, but I couldn’t help but poke her.
“Are you sure? If you take that tiny little bedroom, you’ll have to go out into the hallway if you need to pee in the middle of the night.”
“I never pee in hallways.”
I stopped and stared at her. “I meant you’d have to go into the hallway to get to the bathroom.”
Her eyes twinkled, but her expression remained completely blank. “I know.”
“Wait, did you just make a joke?”
“I did.”
I shook my head. “Don’t do it again.”
When I finished my shower Wanda was waiting for me in the hallway, standing against the wall like a sentry. Finding her so close made me glad that I hadn’t given into the temptation to use my shower head to relieve some of the tension I’d been experiencing since I’d first set eyes on her. She gave my outfit a once-over, taking in my uber tight skinny jeans, the super low-cut tank top I wore over a push-up bra, my armful of bracelets, and the cropped leather jacket I’d chosen to pull the look together. Her expression didn’t change, but somehow she still managed to convey disapproval.
“No basketball shorts and tee?” she asked.
“I have an image to maintain, you know,” I said, flipping my long flat-ironed hair over my shoulder. “I can’t just leave the house looking like a regular person.”
Wanda just raised one eyebrow and followed me to the elevator. We were going to meet with a reporter from a national magazine. We didn’t get a lot of national folks here in Seattle, which was part of the reason I liked being able to live here in relative obscurity, but periodically some big name writer would come to the Pacific Northwest to meet with myself and the other stars who lived here to stay away from the hustle and bustle of L.A. or New York.
Speaking of which...
