Page 84 of Sweet Distraction

“Look.” I hold my phone out for her to see.

“Holy. Shit.” Lily’s eyes widen.

“Right?” I cough the word out in equal parts disbelief and excitement.

“Are you serious right now?”

“I don’t even know what to say.” I shake my head and reread the note for what feels like the tenth time already.

“Say nothing,” she says and starts driving again. “You’re not going back like you already want to do. And don’t give me that look. It’s written all over your face. Believe me. I get it. I’d be running back, stripping off my clothes, if I got that text. But we—”

“We?”

“Yes, we are going out. We are going to dance. We are going to flirt with hot guys. And the whole time, you’ll know that Rocket freaking Caldwell is at home pining for you.”

“That’s ridiculous. He is not going to be pining for me. And who the hell says pining anymore anyway?”

“The woman who just read her best friend’s phone and saw a man sent her money so no other man gets close to her tonight.” She purses her lips and shakes her head. “Girl, that man wants you, and he wants you bad.”

I look out the window at the quiet street, at the night stretching in front of us, and all I can think about is that Lily’s right.

I already want to head back home and reap the rewards of what I’ve sown.

“Don’t even think about it,” she murmurs, reading my mind, and guns the engine out of the gate to the community.

What’s Rocket doing right now? Pacing? Staring at his phone? Still hard from just looking at me?

God help me, I hope so.

And I really hope I survive this night without escaping out a club side door and sneaking my way back home.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Rocket

I’m not gonna lie, I was cocky as fuck thinking I could do this. Once I got over the image of Willow in that dress and remembered this was her night off, my first thought? How hard can this be? I’ve watched her for store runs. I’ve played with her while Willow went out for a run. This is just that, times a few hours.

Turns out I was wrong. This is way harder than I thought.

It’s me. It’s quiet. And there’s a tiny person in front of me holding a raggedy stuffed bunny, blinking at me to ask where her entertainment is.

I should be used to this. I entertain for a living. But not little people and not someone who doesn’t talk back.

Lord help me, I’m trying though.

“So, Popstar, what do you want to do now?” I ask. She blinks, tilts her head and chews on the ear of her bunny. “I mean, I know we’re supposed to get the wiggles out, but how about I show you something that I love? Something that you’ve looked at but never gotten to touch?”

Her shoulders straighten. I have her attention now.

I hold out my hand for her, and when she takes it, we move to the front room where the piano is. I sit on the bench and pat my thigh. “C’mon.” Her eyes widen to epic proportions. She’s not supposed to touch this. “I’ll show you.”

She hesitates only a second before stepping forward, carefully climbing onto my lap like she’s unsure whether I’m testing her and she’ll be in trouble for taking the invite.

I move with slow, deliberate motions and settle her on my lap. Her body’s small and warm and solid. Her curls tickle my chin.

“You want me to play something?” I ask.

Her head bobs, and I begin a slow but upbeat lullaby. I don’t remember the name but I’m sure Diana Finkleman would be proud that I still remember it all these years later.