Cayson, or CJ as we call him, is my best friend. I am closer to him than any of my other bandmates. He is the only one who knows my struggles are real and the only one I will openly talk to about my problems. If I said he knows me inside and out, it wouldn’t be an understatement. Cayson calls me on my shit all the time and keeps me in check, but it wasn’t until I totaled some dude’s car and ended up in the hospital that for the first time I felt he didn’t have my back at all. At least at the time, it felt that way. But my stay at the Jennifer Waybright Center taught me that he really does have my back, which is the only reason I’m showing up at his fucking barbeque today.

We’re supposed to have a month off. A month of no obligations to anyone but ourselves. I’ve been looking forward to this time away from everyone's prying eyes. When I say everyone, what I mean is Ellie’s. After I slipped up in Amsterdam, Cayson called in the big guns: my sister, Ellie. She’s worse than a drill sergeant at boot camp, at least what I imagine boot camp would be like since I’ve never been in the military. She’s hardcore when it comes to looking out for me; not like I didn’t have to have her watch over me in the past one too many times.

I love my sister more than anything, don’t get me wrong, but having her with me twenty-four seven is starting to cramp my style. I need testosterone around me, not estrogen. Even though my sister would never judge me, fucking a groupie every night is a little odd knowing my sister is around. It doesn’t stop me, though. I just have to find ways to be more creative about hiding it. I had plans to find my own security when I returned home, not attend a barbeque less than forty-eight hours from walking in my front door.

I lean over the banister and call down to Ellie, who is in the living room reading a book. “Elle, I’m jumping in the shower now. We need to leave for CJ’s in thirty.”

“Got It. I’m ready.” Her tiny voice carries up to where I am.

I smile and shake my head. She’s so together all the time, and I’m so proud of her. Which is why she needs to get back to her own life and stop babysitting me. When our parents passed away a few years back, I worried about her. She was so close to our mom that I was sure she’d fall apart. Nope, not my little Elle. She rose to the occasion and stepped up. I was the one who fell apart and found solace in drugs. Elle handled everything, from meeting with the executor and the legal team all the way down to the funeral. And then she handled me. She needs to get back to her own life, and I need to find my own support. Cayson and I spoke about it once, but I could never find the right person. Now that I’m home, it’s my number-one priority.

* * *

“There’s nowhere to park my fucking car. Why does CJ have to live in suburbia?”

“Stop it, Rocky,” Ellie says. “He lives in a nice upscale gated community. It’s not his fault that you’re late and have to park on the street.”

“Yeah, well, some little shit is going to be outside riding his bicycle and run right into my Bentley. Elle, go inside and tell Neil to move his Escalade so I can park in the driveway.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Ellie looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“No, Elle, I’m not fucking kidding,” I snap back at her.

“I’ll do no such thing. Just park the freaking car, Rocky, and get over yourself,” Ellie says, tossing her hands up in disgust at me.

“Fine, just fucking fine, Elle, but if my car gets a dent or a scratch, you’re buying me a new one,” I tell her as I pull up to the curb and turn off the ignition.

She opens the car door, then turns to me. “Stop overreacting.” Then she steps out and slams the door in my face.

I catch up to her when she is already talking to Kayla at the front door. Kayla and I exchange hugs, and she lets us know that everyone is in the backyard. As Ellie and I make our way toward the back, I look around the house. The last time I was here was the day I asked Cayson for his support in helping me find an accountability partner. It’s also the day I called him on his shit about Kayla. He swore there was nothing between them. I knew he was just kidding himself, so I’m glad he finally found the balls to admit his feelings and do the right thing.

I scan the backyard. All the familiar faces are here, plus a few new ones I’ve never seen before. Neil is talking to a dude I’ve never met, but it’s the petite woman standing with a plate piled high with food who catches my eye. The plate looks like it should be sitting in front of one of us guys, not in her little hands. I watch as she makes her way over to a table and sits down, immediately digging into the food like she hasn’t eaten in weeks. She doesn’t seem to care what is going on around her, just about what’s sitting in front of her. Even though her plate is piled high, she’s very dainty about how she eats it, which intrigues me even more. I tell myself that this girl, I’ve got to meet. Not only is she stunningly beautiful, but she has an aura of badass about her. I acknowledge the rest of the guys as I make my way over to her so I can sit down beside her. She glances at me briefly but then goes back to focusing on her food, ignoring my presence. I’m about to interrupt her when the dude who was talking to Neil sits down beside me and holds out his hand.

“I’m Rusty Wallace, and no, no relation to the driver,” he says on a chuckle. “That is my sister, Kathy.” He points to the beauty sitting on the other side of me. “Don’t mind her. She has this thing about food. We’re friends of Kayla’s, and I’m a huge fan, man.”

So that explains why I’ve never seen their faces before. Reaching out, I shake Rusty’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Rusty. I’d say I’m Rocky Kohler, but I bet you already know that. Your sister loves to eat, I see.”

“Hey, I’m sitting right here, and I can hear you.” Kathy turns, looking at her brother and me. Her beauty reaches in and grabs my heart, momentarily stopping it from beating. Her eyes are amber, more of a copper tint, and similar to the color of eyes you’d see on a wolf. They are unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, and they mesmerize me. Her honey-brown hair flows over her shoulders, and it’s the first time I’m really getting a look at this amazing woman. As quickly as my heart stopped beating, it begins to pound faster. Just being around her has me tied up in knots. I’m usually a cocky bastard when I’m around a woman who interests me, but not this time. This time, I’m searching for the right words to even say to her.

“If you’ve got a problem with my eating, then go sit somewhere else. You wouldn’t talk shit about one of your boys digging in, so why are you giving me shit about my plate?” The tone of her voice is just as badass as her personality, making my dick harden in my pants.

I hold my hands up in defeat. “Whoa, hold up there, bright eyes. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just saying that you love your food.”

Rusty peers around me to look at his sister. “You have no idea how much she loves food. Sometimes she can out-eat me. And I can put it away like no other.” He laughs out loud, and I join in, which seems to irritate the little sprite next to me.

Kathy pushes her plate forward slightly before turning to face us. “Will you both stop making fun of me? I’m hungry, and you’re making me self-conscious, so stop.”

I reach out in front of her, grabbing her plate, then stealing her fork from her hand. Just before I can dig in, tiny hands grab hold of the plate and move it from under my fork back to its original location.

“Excuse me,” Kathy speaks up, “just because I said you all were making me feel self-conscious doesn’t mean I wasn’t’ going to finish eating. Geez, guys. Cut me some slack, will ya, and give me my fork back.”

When she realizes I’m not returning her fork to her, she bats her beautiful eyes at me. “Please, may I have my fork back?”

Rusty’s chuckle is loud and infectious. It makes me smile. Just as I’m going to hand the fork back to her, she quickly snags it from my fingers and digs back into her plate. I’m not sure why I find this so attractive about her, but I do. She doesn’t care who I am or what I do, which is hard to find in a woman these days. She’s not trying to impress me or dig her claws into me; it’s refreshing and frustrating at the same time. I don’t care that I’m being creepy; I just spend the next thirty minutes analyzing what makes her tick and how I’m going to get her into my bed. If it is even possible.