She had the most beautiful hair; I loved the way it played through my fingers as I carefully went about cleaning her up. After her shower, she changed into some fresh clothes that Michael, my head of security, had brought over from the hotel, and she came out to the living room smelling like my body wash. Why did it make me happy to think of her using the same bottle of soap as me? She settled down in front of me as I went to work, taking care not to press on the site of her injury. It took a while, but once I finished, you would have never known anything had happened. Unfortunately for her, we both knew the truth.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “You’ve been very kind to me. Listen, I just want to say that… What I mean is… I want you to know I don’t make a habit of going home with strange men. I mean, that’s not my style.” Her hands fidgeted nervously in her lap, while her eyes remained focused on them, as if mesmerized by their movements. It suddenly dawned on me; she’s worried about what I might think of her. Unbelievable. Everything about her screamed innocence, yet she was worried I might think she had loose morals. I offered a shy smile, trying to put her mind at ease.

“I don’t doubt that, Brooke. You don’t strike me as someone who would allow herself to be taken advantage of. I want you to know I only have the best of intentions at heart. No pressure or expectations. I just want to know you are safe.” I leaned over and brushed a loose tendril of hair from her forehead, my fingers brushing her skin lightly, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

“I recognized you before, but I didn’t want to say anything. I love your music.” She smiled shyly. She had a beautiful smile; I told her that when I first met her. I could watch her smile all day long and die a happy man. “You’re like, my favorite band, and I’m not just saying that. You can check the playlist on my phone.” She chewed on her bottom lip nervously, and I studied her carefully, memorizing her movements. Everything within me wanted to take her in my arms and spend the rest of the evening in my bed. Yet something told me she was not only not that kind of girl, but she deserved better. She deserved more. And I wanted to be the one to give that to her. So instead, I watched her. And I liked what I saw and wanted to know all about her.

“You’ve got quite a reputation with women,” she announced, and I nearly choked on the water I had just gulped. “I mean, that’s what I've read on the Internet.”

I wiped off my chin as I cleared my throat, stalling to find the right words. “I suppose I do. I mean, I do have a past. I hope that’s not an issue for you; it’s not something I’m particularly proud of. You’re not in any danger here, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” I looked away, unable to meet her gaze any longer. The pureness that exuded from her suddenly made me feel cheap and ashamed. Right then, I could have killed myself for having lived such a carefree lifestyle. When you are in the moment, you never think about the day you may have to answer for your poor choices, but when I looked into her eyes, it wasn’t judgment I saw staring back at me. All I saw was acceptance.

“I can understand. We’re all carrying around some form of baggage; it’s part of what makes us human. The key is to not allow that baggage to define who we are today or tomorrow. We all have the power to make changes to better our lives.” She shrugged her shoulders, looking me in the eye. “That’s how I try to get through each day. I typically like to acknowledge the obvious and then focus on the positive. You seem like a decent guy.”

Her words hit me hard, setting off all sorts of thoughts and feelings within me. For years, I let myself get lost in the rock star persona and forgot who I truly was. Sure, I had my family to keep me grounded, but they weren’t with me day in and day out. When we weren’t writing songs, working in the studio, or touring, we each had our own lives. The guys and I hung out at least twice a week, and I got together with my family every Sunday night, but when I was on my own, I got lonely. It wasn’t until I met Brooke that morning that I realized I wanted someone as more than just an occasional companion; I needed a best friend, a partner, someone to share my life with. How was it that, after only twelve hours of knowing her, I felt like she could be the one I had been waiting for? There was only one way to find out. I needed more time with her. There was just one problem: she was heading back home tomorrow.

We stayed up for hours, talking about everything from favorite childhood memories to our biggest fears. I learned that her parents getting divorced when she was eleven had greatly shaped her life. She told me how her mother withheld affection from her, putting her career before her family; and how that had spurred her on to graduate early and enter the culinary arts. Apparently, she was an awesome chef. I could see her being awesome at anything she tried, and you could tell that she truly loved her job by the way her eyes lit up when she talked about wine pairings and cooking techniques. I listened to her talk for hours, and I soaked up everything she shared, laughing when appropriate, and burning with hatred whenever she spoke of her dysfunctional upbringing. I hung on every word. Oh yeah, Steve had been right. I had it bad.

She had just finished telling me a funny story about her early days working in the restaurant when she yawned, then quickly tried to cover it up. “Excuse me. I guess I’ve had a long day. Maybe I should turn in.” She stood, immediately falling back onto the sofa, holding a hand to her head.

“Are you okay?” I knelt in front of her, instinctively reaching for her hand. She didn’t pull away.

“Yeah, I just had some pain in my head, and I felt a bit dizzy. I’ve probably overdone it today.” She made to stand up again, but I quickly slipped an arm under her knees and around her back, and carried her to the bedroom, laying her gently down on the bed. She was so small. She felt light as a feather in my arms.

“Good night, Brooke. If you need anything, just let me know.” As I turned to go, she placed a hand on my arm, causing little jolts of electricity firing off where her bare skin touched mine.

“Thank you, Sebastian. I don’t know how I will ever repay you for your kindness.”

I looked down at her hand, enjoying how it felt against me, and moved closer to the edge of the bed, pausing before sitting down. “Brooke, I already told you that you don’t need to thank me. I want to take care of you. It’s no trouble at all. Get some sleep.”

It took quite a while for me to drift off. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I tossed and turned restlessly. Sleep did finally come, most likely from sheer exhaustion, but I welcomed it, knowing that in the morning I would hear her sweet voice again.

Little did I know, I wouldn’t have to wait until morning.

“Sebastian?” I heard her whisper, and I knew right away that something was wrong.

* * *

BROOKE

I woke to a pounding sensation in my head; the painkillers had worn off. I slipped out of bed and made my way to the bathroom in search of something for the pain, only to find the cabinets empty. Next, I headed to the kitchen, but came up empty again. The only other place they could be were in his bathroom, but the only way in there was through the bedroom, and he was in there, asleep. I hated the thought of imposing on him further, but what choice did I have? I needed relief. So I knocked lightly, but there was no answer. I knocked again, this time a little harder. Still no response. I turned the knob, and the door opened. My heart was in my throat, but the pounding in my head gave me cause to step forward into his room, where he lay sleeping not more than fifteen feet away. The room was dark, except for the thin sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtains, but I saw the outline of his body on the bed. The sheets were a tangled mess around him, and I stood there staring, as my mind began to wander. What would it be like to be his wife, lying next to him? Was he someone who cuddled, or did he prefer his space when sleeping? My guess was he would cuddle. He had already proven that he was caring and protective. Surely, that made for someone who would hold you in his arms all night every night. He had strong-looking arms… I shook my head, snapping out of the daydream, and slowly made my way over to the king-sized bed.

“Sebastian?” I whispered, praying I wouldn’t scare him half to death as my hand pressed softly against his smooth shoulder.

“Brooke?” he asked groggily, then rolled over and fumbled with the bedside lamp. Suddenly the room filled with soft light. I shielded my eyes protectively from the brightness. “What is it? Is everything okay?” He sat up instantly, his eyes filled with concern.

“I’m sorry. I just have a bad headache and can’t seem to find any pain killers. I was hoping you had something in here.”

“Of course. Sit down, and I’ll go get them.” He jumped up and headed for the bathroom. I heard some mumbled expletives and drawers slamming shut before he finally reappeared holding a large bottle of acetaminophen and a glass of water. “Here.” He shook out two tablets. “Hopefully, these will help.” I swallowed the offered pills then finished the water.

“Thanks. Sorry I had to wake you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I had some in my purse, but that’s gone so…” I was babbling, mainly because I was embarrassed to be sitting on his bed staring at him as he stood before me, still being unbelievably kind while wearing only a pair of tight boxer briefs. I met his gaze momentarily but looked away before standing up. “I’ll let you get back to sleep. Thank you again,” I muttered as I ducked back into the hall. As I started toward my room, I heard him calling after me.

“Brooke, make sure you let me know if you need anything else. I’ll leave my door open in case you need to call for me. Okay, honey?” He gave me a lop-sided grin.

“Okay.” I blushed and continued down the hall, also leaving my door open, just in case. I crawled into bed and thought about Sebastian. He was being awfully kind to me, which struck me as especially odd seeing as I was a complete stranger. Everything I had heard about L.A. led me to believe that the people in this town weren’t particularly friendly. I would have believed that, if the two guys at the beach had been the only locals I had interacted with, but he was different. There was something about him that intrigued me. We had talked for hours after dinner. I’d felt completely at ease with him, sharing very personal details of my dysfunctional upbringing, and he had listened intently, as only a best friend or boyfriend would do. He made me feel as if what I had to say was important. He asked me question after question about what I liked and didn’t like. He wanted to know all about my work, and through it all he seemed genuinely interested in my answers. If I had been better at hiding my yawn, we would have probably still been out there talking, I found that when I talked to him, I didn’t want it to end. Being with him made me feel something I had never felt before. I knew it sounded crazy, but being with him just felt comfortable. No, not just comfortable, it felt exhilarating. No, not just exhilarating, either. It was all those things, but mainly, it just felt right. That’s it, being with him felt right. And I was going back to Michigan.

* * *

The headache was still present when I woke up. Even the pillow hurt when it pressed against my scalp. My flight was scheduled to leave at two-thirty this afternoon. If I popped some more acetaminophen and took a hot shower, maybe the pain would ease enough so that the flight wouldn’t be complete agony. Even though Sebastian was going out of his way to be kind and welcoming, I just wanted to be home in my own bed. I wanted to take a relaxing bath with candles burning and soft music playing, my go-to remedy when things got to be too much. I yawned and stretched before swinging my legs over the side of the bed, planting my feet firmly on the ground. When I stood up, everything went fuzzy. I reached a hand out behind me to lean back against the bed, but instead my knees buckled, and I started to go down. The last thing I remember was the garbled noise that emitted from my throat before I hit the floor.

“Sebas—” The words broke off as everything once again went black.

* * *

I was on the floor, but my head was laying on something other than the carpeting. It was Sebastian’s legs. He was sitting cross-legged behind me, cradling my head in his lap.

“Brooke, honey, I think you passed out. Is your head still hurting? Don’t talk, just nod your head if that’s a yes.” I started to speak, but a finger brushed lightly against my lips, halting my words, so I nodded. He stroked my hair and gently massaged over my ears. His touch was light but effective, and when he stopped moving his fingers, the pain resumed, making me wince. “I’m taking you to the hospital. I’ll help you stand, and then we’ll see if you can get dressed on your own.”

Once on my feet, I staggered slightly, but the dizziness had subsided. “I can get changed on my own, but would you mind handing me that bag over there?” I asked, pointing in the direction of my suitcase. “Just place it on the bed, and I can get everything I need.” He did as I requested, standing there for a moment to make sure I was functioning on my own. When he saw I was able to select my clothes without falling over, he moved for the door.

“I’ll be just down the hall if you need me.” He eyed me carefully. “Okay, we’ll leave as soon as you’re dressed. I’ll go call Steve.”

After he had left the room, I sat down on the bed and changed into a new outfit, throwing on my skinny jeans and a red V-neck. I brushed my teeth and splashed some cold water on my face before reaching for my make-up bag. I needed to throw on just a hint of mascara to wake up my tired-looking eyes. Maybe a bit of blush would help with the pale color of my skin. Was I always this pale? I needed some sun. Maybe L.A. would be a good move for me. No one should be this pale. I looked like a ghost. Once I finished, I made my way down to the kitchen, where Sebastian waited for me, keys in hand.

“Ready?” He held out a hand for me to grasp. I assumed it was for stability, just in case, and we walked out to the garage. He opened the passenger door of his black Lexus SUV, and I was immediately enveloped in luxury. He jumped into the driver’s seat and backed out of the garage then pulled onto the adjacent street. I watched as houses moved quickly by, taking in the posh surroundings; this was an upscale neighborhood. If I had to guess, I would have said he lived among various celebrities as the houses could have easily gone for at least three million.

“My flight leaves at two-thirty this afternoon. Do you think you can drop me off at the airport?” I asked, attempting to fill the awkward silence present between us.

“Um, sure.” He cleared his throat. “I hate that you have to leave so soon. You didn’t even get to see any of the cool sights. Maybe you can come back and I can give you a personal tour.”

“We’ll see.” I chuckled softly. Why was it that we both seemed to dread the thought of me leaving? Was I reading his signals incorrectly? Everything he did and said led me to believe that he was somewhat interested in me. Could that be right? I barely knew him. If I was honest with myself, I would have admitted that I was slightly interested in him, but that would be silly of me. He was a rock star, and I was just a girl from Michigan with a culinary degree and a messed up family. What chance would we have of ever being more than acquaintances? No, I would leave him this afternoon and never hear from him again. Sad really, when you thought about it, because he seemed like the kind of guy who had a lot to offer a girl like me, or any girl for that matter.