Page 7 of My Rock Star Neighbor
“Don’t collapse and fall on my guitar over there.”He gestures with his head towards the red guitar leaning against the iron railing.“She’s my baby.You don’t want to live with the guilt that you hurt my first child.Let me help you.”
“Okay,” I say grudgingly, holding up my hand.“Heaven forbid one of your guitars is in danger.”
“I’ll carry you to your window.Do you think you can get in by yourself?”
“Yes.Don’t worry.I’ll ice it and bandage it up, and I’ll be fine.It’s not the first time, as you know.”Last year, I was running for an interview, and I went flying face down on the uneven pavement.I missed the interview, and my rival at the paper, who apparently was following me, met my source first and scooped my story.
He sets me down by my open window, and I gingerly climb back into my apartment, being careful not to put too much weight on my injured foot.
“You sure you’re okay?”he asks, concern swimming in his eyes.
“I’ve been better,” I say.
“Sorry,” he says.
“It’s not your fault,” I say.
“What time is your interview tomorrow?”
“I’m meeting the contractor at seven at Tostje’s coffee shop.He has a job near the Seward Park development at eight.Afterwards, I’m meeting Tasha and the other mom with the same issue.”
“Make sure you ice that and put your foot up on a pillow when you sleep.Do you need my help?”
No.My hormones will never settle down if Nick plays nursemaid.
“It’s not that bad,” I lie.“I don’t need your help.I will ice it and use a pillow, Nurse Nick.”
He glares at me.
“Oh, and I came out to tell you that woman is a total scam artist,” I say.“She swindled some older couple out of their life savings and served a short jail sentence.I’ll send you the link to what I found.Maybe it can help you with your denial—that she’s not someone to be trusted.”
“I’m sure it will die down.”He winks.“But I’m touched by your concern.”
Then he gives me that slightly crooked and mischievous grin—the one that makes all his fans’ hearts melt.I hate that mine does too.
Chapter three
Maddie
AsIlimpoutmy front door, I nearly jump out of my ankle brace and tightly laced black sneakers.Nick is lounging against the opposite hallway wall, two coffees in hand.
“Rise and shine,” he says.
“Are you always cheerful in the morning?”I ask, still recovering from the shock.
“We have a meeting with MusEn this afternoon, so I’m psyched,” Nick says.“And we’re spending the morning fighting crime.What could be more exciting?”
“We?”I ask.
My orange tabby cat Sherlock, clearly taking advantage of my distraction, has escaped into the hallway and is sniffing at the mat in front of Nick’s door.I pick him up and put him back in my apartment, carefully closing the door.
“You don’t think I’m going to let you hobble forth alone in pursuit of justice, do you?What if you miss your big story again?”Nick says.“I will never hear the end of it.Plus, I need to help you get a raise and move out.I want a next-door neighbor who appreciates my singing.”
“Good luck with that,” I say.
As he slides my big bag off my shoulder, I freeze.Still, it seems I didn’t reveal anything last night.He’s not avoiding me, afraid to encourage my feelings.
This is Nick.Always up for an adventure.
