Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
When he peers at me in shock that I want to place anything between me and a guaranteed multi-platinum album, I shrug like it isn’t a rarity. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast…” I check the time on his retro watch. “That was almost seventeen hours ago.”
“See,” River bursts out, unaware the only thing I’m craving right now is more of Laken’s musical genius but I’m setting it aside solely for him and his hungry tummy. “Even someone with a brain as big as Nicole’s knows the importance of eating.” He rubs his stomach like he didn’t eat two buckets of popcorn and multiple boxes of Maltesers during Casablanca. “And there’s no better brain food than overloaded tacos.”
“Tacos?” Laken asks, his brow high. “You’re upset that we delayed a food binge that will have you spending the rest of the day on the toilet, crapping it out?”
“Tacos don’t make me poop,” River denies, his lofty tone hinting at his fib.
Laken’s brow inches higher and higher and higher until River has no choice but to rebut his lie. “Still worth it.”
After hitting him with a sassy look I can’t help but smile about, he spins on his heels and stalks away.
Laken and I shadow his exit shoulder to shoulder only two seconds later.
“I told you tacos—”
“Yeah, yeah, save your lecture for when I’m not about to shit my pants,” River interrupts, glaring at his brother. He nudges his head to a café outside our hotel that’s preparing for the early morning breakfast rush. That’s how late our song session ran over. It is almost dawn. “You should probably buy dessert.” His adorable almond eyes sling to me. “This won’t be pretty, and my bathroom has no air freshener.”
“Dessert sounds great.” I spin to Laken to hide the humor on my face before asking, “Care to join me?”
“I’d love to.”
I want to pretend his quick response isn’t because of his brother’s warning, but when River’s backside squeaks louder than his shoes as he races through the rotating door of our hotel, my hope slithers.
Don’t get me wrong. Even while purchasing tacos from a food vendor a couple of blocks up from our hotel, the pride in Laken’s eyes didn’t diminish. He just seems a little uneasy when we’re alone.
Anyone would swear it is a conscious effort for him to keep his hands off me.
I realize that might be the case when his hand only warms the small of my back for half a second as he guides me toward the café.
“Eat in or takea—”
Laken is interrupted by a familiar set of chants.
“Nicole, is it true Rise Up went on a European tour so they’d miss your public humiliation?”
“Nicole, would you like to comment on claims you’re pregnant with Nick’s child?”
“Nicole, have you seen the video blowing up on social media about you?”
Although there are only half a dozen paparazzi for Laken to remove from the café, I’m swarmed by members of the public in less than a nanosecond. The paparazzi linked my name with Rise Up. That type of exposure only ends one way.
With me almost being trampled.
The crash is immediate. Within seconds, I’m overwhelmed by requests for autographs and selfies.
“Move back,” Laken demands before he curls his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest. “Keep your head down.” He’s not ashamed to be photographed with me as the Rise Up band members should be but aren’t. He’s trying to protect my head from the number of phones and cameras shoved in my face during our short walk from the café to our hotel. “Get the fuck back!”
As he seeks the assistance of the security team in the foyer of the hotel, I’m grabbed at the side by a man double my size and yanked out of Laken’s grip.
“Nicole!” Laken’s voice is as stern as the panic that grips my throat when the crowd realizes I’m in the open.
They race for me so fast they knock me over.
I’m certain it is over, that today was my last hurrah, but Laken arrives out of nowhere and pulls me into his arms before I’m trampled alive.
His heart thuds in my ear as he barges through the crowd with no concern about how many phones and cameras he breaks. He is a man on a mission, and after thirty heart-whacking seconds, he breaks us through the hotel entrance and the security team assigned to the foyer takeover and subduing the crowd.
“What the fuck was that?” Laken asks, his focus not on me.
When I wiggle, requesting to be placed down, he sets me on my feet before marching to stand chest to chest with a man he seems to know.
“You couldn’t see them swarming her?” Anger seethes in his words as his eyes bore into the blond gent who is wearing the same outfit as the rest of the security personnel, just flashier. “She almost got fucking trampled.”