Squealing, I let the night play over and over in my mind as I weave through the suburbs back to our modest home. I just met the Jace Hawthorne. Live and in person. In my pub. I got to serve him drinks, walk arm-in-arm, and talk to him as if I was actually a person worth something. Tonight was without a doubt, bar none, the best night of my entire twenty-two years of existence. I can now die happy after meeting my idol and hearing him call me beautiful.

This night was so perfect I’m afraid I’ll wake up in the morning and realize it was nothing but a vivid dream.

I can still feel the burn of his warmth where it seared into my arm. There’s a real possibility I may never wash this arm again. I’m so proud of myself for keeping my cool around him and not freaking out too much. On the inside, I wanted to maul him and shriek—

“I love you, Jace Hawthorne! Marry me and put your babies in me!”

Just like a crazed fan girl. But on the outside, I was like—

“Hey, you’re cool. Wanna try my fried chicken?”

Nailed it. And now he wants to see me again and he does, in fact, want to try my cooking. I feel like some kind of sex symbol right now. A beacon of fertility to all the shy wallflowers here in Covington.

There is hope for small-town girls with wide hips and a nerdy interest in writing about fake people for a living. Now that I know the bullshit I write can actually become a reality, I’m considering retiring my writing quill for good. My book boyfriends probably won’t let that happen, but if nothing else, this is killer inspiration. Who is now a curvy goddess who can bring brooding, hunky rock stars to their knees?

Me. That’s who.

As I pull into the driveway, I realize I’m getting massively carried away with my inner celebration. Jace Hawthorne was probably just trying to find a girl to spend the night with. More than likely, I’ll never see him again. I probably turned him off by not trying to have sex with him. He’s used to girls falling all over him at the bat of an eyelid.

Regardless, I just know Mom is going to flip the fuck out when she hears my good news. She’s really more like a best friend to me than a mother. We tell each other everything, including stuff that has to do with guys. She doesn’t mind hearing about my love interests as long as I don’t mention anything remotely sexual. If I accidentally slip, she’ll cover her ears, scrunch her eyes shut, and sing in a monotone voice over me just like a ten-year-old. I don’t blame her for not wanting to hear about sexual stuff from me, though I do think the childish humming is a little over-the-top.

As soon as I get inside the house, I hear Mom’s favorite show, Project Runway playing in the living room. Tearing off my shoes, I rush in to join her on the couch. We both love watching Heidi and the other designers rip the newbies a new one.

Mom wraps an arm around me and kisses the top of my head, snuggling into me on the couch. She sniffs, then clears her throat. “What is that smell?”

“Oh…it’s probably just the scent of the incredibly sexy man who kissed me before I left work tonight.” I grin as she sits up rod-straight and gasps.

“Oh my God!” We turn to each other, and I can’t help but giggle as she bounces up and down like a teenager.

My mom is so cool.

“What happened? Who was it?”

“You’ll never guess.” I grin, taunting her.

“Come on! Tell me!”

“You sure you’re ready to hear this?”

Her smile fades. “I think so?”

Leaning forward, I’m not sure why, but I whisper. “Jace. Freakin’. Hawthorne.”

Mom stares at me with a poker face for only a moment before bursting into teary-eyed laughter. “What?” Still laughing, she holds her stomach, throwing her head back. This goes on for a long time while I just sit in silence, feeling my cheeks turn red.

Is that really so ridiculous? Come to think of it, parts of tonight didn’t feel real. Maybe I just made all this up in my head. Maybe that kiss out by my car in the moonlight didn’t even happen.

But no, she smelled his musky cologne on me and maybe some of the alcohol that was on his breath on my mouth. It has to be real.

Wiping her eyes, Mom calms down, out of breath. “Whew, you really got me there. Okay, so who was it really? Was it that boy you’ve had a crush on since high school…what was his name…Travis?”

“No, Mom.” I grasp her arm, looking into her eyes which look so much like mine, it’s uncanny. “It actually was Jace. Filthy Bangers showed up at the pub tonight out of nowhere, and well…he took a liking to me, for some reason.”

Mom levels her gaze with mine. Her smile fades completely. “You’re joking.”

“I’m completely serious.” I pull my phone out of my pocket, using my thumb to unlock it. “Here, see for yourself.” I show her a picture of the band I managed to snap while they weren’t looking. Jace looks like a fallen angel in that picture. I’m going to keep it forever.

Her mouth draws into a thin line as she accepts the phone. Looking over their faces, she shakes her head, then she hands me the phone back and stands to her feet, pacing the room and mumbling something to herself.

I turn off the TV and watch her as she works it all out in her head. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

“I thought I warned you.” She turns fully to me, her stern glare burning through me. “I told you these fools are not to be messed with. You should know better after all we went through with your father.”

Groaning, I roll my eyes. “I can kiss whoever I want. I’m not a teenager anymore.”

“But you know his type!” Nostrils flaring, she points in my face. “I thought I taught you better than this. I taught you to look for a good man. One who will take care of you. Ever since high school, you’ve been picking the bad boys who will do nothing but break your heart. When are you going to learn that the rebellious boys—especially rock stars—are no good for you?”

“Can’t you just be happy for me?” I stand up, not liking the vulnerability sitting down in front of her gave me. “I kissed my favorite rock star of all time. It was amazing. I’m probably never even going to see him again, so what’s the big deal?”

She growls in her throat, letting her pointing finger fall to the side. “It’s the pattern I’m seeing from you. This isn’t the girl I raised.” She gestures to my whole frame.

Tears spark in my eyes. I thought she was proud of me. That she was my best friend, and we could talk to each other about anything. But I guess she’s just been my mother all along.

“After all I’ve done for you over the years…” I shake my head at her. “I can’t believe you’re still treating me like a child.”

My words make her face fall. Her body language shifts from being on the offensive. “Kyri, you know I’m just trying to take care of you—”

“Well, don’t. I’m a grown woman now, and I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can manage it.” Spinning on my heels, I pick up my laptop from my desk and hurry back toward my room.

“You’re going to fall for him, and he’s going to shatter your heart,” Mom calls out behind me. I can hear tears in her voice. “Just please be careful.”

I don’t respond as I walk through the hallway and down to my room, shutting the door behind me and locking it.

Once I’m safe in my own sanctuary, I let the tears fall, blubbering like an idiot. It’s not Mom I’m really sad about, though. Now that I’ve tasted my idol, I think I might be ruined for all the “good men.” No one is ever going to measure up to Jace Hawthorne.

What the hell am I going to do now?