Free Manhandled: A Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 2) by Cari Quinn, Taryn Elliott

around.”
    I gripped the edge of the island. “If you have a personal relationship that I’m not aware of, we can work around it.”
    Her laugh was strained. “Don’t worry, Warden. No boys after curfew.”
    “This isn’t a joke.”
    “Oh, I know it’s not. You don’t hear me laughing, do you?”
    No, I didn’t. Just bitching. I tipped my head back and counted to five. This job was a bad situation in the making, but I couldn’t walk away. Not when Noah had asked me for help. Especially Noah.
    She resumed chopping and scraping the cherry tomatoes into the bowl with the spring greens. I went to the fridge and pulled out the snap peas. The methodical job of using the paring knife to clean them centered me.
    We didn’t say anything else as we chopped mushrooms, snap peas, and onions.
    “What are you cooking anyway?” she finally asked.
    “Chicken.”
    “Fried?”
    “No.”
    She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like dry chicken.”
    “It’s not dry. It’s marinated, then cooked slow.”
    She sniffed the air. “It smells herb-ish.”
    “Rosemary and balsamic.”
    “Hmm.” She went to the fridge and opened the door, then to the slim pantry beside it. She pulled out bottles. “Ranch, bleu cheese, or Thousand Island?”
    “I made dressing.”
    Her eyebrows went up.
    “It’s a wine vinaigrette.” Again with the wrinkled nose. “Problem with that too?”
    “You’re one of those health-conscious people, huh?”
    “Healthy body, healthy mind.”
    “Oh, crap. You don’t do yoga or something do you?”
    “No. Tai Chi.”
    She leaned against the island. “Is that like the hot martial arts thing that Patrick Swayze does in Roadhouse?”
    I wasn’t sure how to respond to that one. “You watch Roadhouse?”
    “Oh, yeah. I’m a huge Patrick fan. I love action movies of all kinds. I hang with guys twenty-four seven mostly. We actually watch Roadhouse whenever it’s on in the hotels. It’s a thing. If one of us finds it, we call around and everyone gathers in one room.” She smiled broadly. “We even live Tweet it.”
    “Live Tweet?”
    She pulled her phone out of her sweater. “Yeah.” She flicked her thumb down the screen, typed something fast, and then handed me her phone. “See?”
    I sighed and wiped my hands on a towel before taking her iPhone.
    There was a play-by-play of the way the actor jumped out of the barn and down to help the old man in the movie. I’d seen it a number of times myself. Her reactions were lively and funny.
    So much so that I kept scrolling to follow her series of Tweets.
    “You definitely know the movie.”
    “Right? Man, now I want to watch it. I have it on my Amazon account. How about we watch it as we’re eating? If I have to eat healthy, at least I can watch Patrick’s perfect ass.”
    “Acceptable.” Not that I was interested in his ass, but the movie was entertaining.
    “You can eat the vinegar stuff though. There’s only so far that I’m going to go with the health crap.”
    “They’re your arteries.”
    “Damn right.”

11

Keys
    L iving with a man was a new experience. Of course, I’d lived with my parents, but that was far different from my current situation.
    He didn’t make a lot of noise. Actually, almost none to be truthful. We’d enjoyed our dinner and whipping-fest that was Roadhouse . I didn’t want to think about just how hard my heart had kicked at the love scene in the movie as we sat across from each other in my great room.
    Both of us had bowls of salad cupped in our hands as we watched. Instead of trying for a full-blown meal, we’d ended up slicing the chicken and putting it over the greens.
    He was a good cook. The chicken had been tangy and moist—shockingly—and when I dumped enough Thousand Island dressing on it, I’d been delightfully surprised how filling it had been.
    But it had been a little weird to have Dalton banging the hell out of Doc against the barn wall with Quinn across from me. His eyes didn’t move from