Maybe Someday: Bad Boy Rock Star Billionaire Romance (Rock My Heart Billionaire Series) by Elizabeth Grey

Author:Elizabeth Grey [Grey, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

It’s early enough in the day that the drive isn’t too much of a hassle. Amy’s in full work mode through most of it and doesn’t have much time to nag me about Wyatt, and I appreciate it because my brain is spinning with lyrics, chords, and memories.

The song Wyatt and I had been playing with fills my head. I’m still toying with it as Amy parks her SUV next to a line of moving trucks and a hot pink sports car I can’t identify.

“Looks like Beatrice upgraded again.”

“Are we talking husbands or automobiles?” Amy quips.

I look at her, and we both break out into laughter. I’ve known Beatrice for a little over three years, and she’s been married twice since I met her. She’s also had four different cars, all of them painted in that awful shade of pink. She says it’s her signature shade.

“You know, I’m not against the color pink,” I say as we climb out. “It’s just...there’s so much of it.”

“At least it’s not a truck this time.”

“True.”

Hearing the bright falsetto of Beatrice’s voice, I jab my thumb to one of the trucks. “Okay, boss! This is my stop.”

“Coward,” she mumbles before stepping around me.

The moving trucks rhythmically beep as they back up near the stage door. The back of the nearest truck gapes open. A few of the chair legs gleam from stray flashes of sunlight. The musicians won’t be here for another few hours. By the time they arrive, their music stands will be in fluid half-circles around the stage, chairs spaced each a few inches apart.

We spend the following few hours rolling stacks of chairs from the trucks to the stage and arranging them. The lighting rig rises above us like a ghost, casting us in pale shades of blue, then pink and yellow.

The lyrics from yesterday float back in my head as I work. The simple physical labor leaves my thoughts free to drift, and I find myself thinking about the movie that had inspired my song.

We pause for a break, and I drop onto the side of the stage, pulling a small notebook from my pocket, sliding the pocket-sized pen from the loop in front.

People are chatting around me. It’s all background noise.

I’ve got a beat playing in my brain. I roll my fingers against the edge of the stage, waiting for the beat to play out, then for the lyrics to make themselves known.

Pulled to you like a drumbeat, feel you down in my bones.

I scratch the line down, tap the pen against the paper and wait. Nothing else is coming yet.

I check my phone. There’s a bunch of texts from Chloe, all amounting to the same question: How did it go with Wyatt?

Something tells me that telling her that he fucked me senseless in most of the rooms of our apartment wouldn’t go over very well. I type out a response: It was good. We worked on a bunch of music stuff. We can talk later. At work right now.

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