Free The Rock Star's Christmas Reunion: contemporary holiday romance (A Charisma series novel, The Connollys Book 1) by Heather Hiestand

worth of work by two people?”
    “It’s hard to make a buck if you aren’t a rock star,” she protested. “Did you want a cut?”
    “No, I’m gonna call this our second date.” He smiled like the Cheshire Cat. “And you know what traditionally happens on the third.”
    “You say, get off the tour bus, honey, I have to go to Cleveland?” She deadpanned.
    He laughed and handed her another mesh bag. “I meant non-rock star rules.”
    “I don’t know. I thought the potpourri was supposed to take us to second base?”
    He glanced around the kitchen. Everything there was functional and she hadn’t yet even been able to purchase mats for the floors. “No soft places in here.”
    “So you aren’t an up against the wall kind of lover?”
    “Not the first time.” Their gazes met and locked.
    Her fingers slipped and she made a knot instead of a bow. “Oops. Better concentrate.”
    “How many do we have?” He poked into their mixing bowl with a spoon.
    “Forty-two. We’re almost done. Then what?”
    “Food,” he said. “Come back to my house and help me finish off the last of the slaw from Saturday. It’s got to be eaten up. I’ve got some russet potatoes.”
    She took his coaxing tone for an indication that he thought russet potatoes were like Kobe beef for the veggie crowd. “But do you have broccoli? Fresh spices?”
    “You know, I might, actually. Broccoli will be out of the freezer.”
    “I can manage. Sounds good.”
     
    ~
     
    An hour later, Bax pushed back from his kitchen table and patted his chest. “I could get used to this vegetarian thing. Keeps my middle trim.”
    Yakima scooted her chair closer to his. She was right in the center of the draft coming in from below the door leading to the garage and her ankles were getting chilly. “Do you still care about that, now that you aren’t in the spotlight as much? Keeping in mind you don’t have an ounce of fat on you.”
    “I’m a single thirty-year-old man. Of course I want to look good for the ladies.” He gave her a wink.
    Despite the December chill, he’d stripped down to his T-shirt before eating. She’d been treated through the meal to the sight of his corded arms bunching and flexing as he cut his food. Black lightning bolt tattoos had been added to his biceps and his original barbed wire tattoo had been overlaid and decorated so that it looked like ivy. A matching tattoo was on the other arm too. They both peeked in and out of visual range as they were high up enough to mostly be hidden by his short sleeves.
    “What do you think?”
    She blinked and forced her eyes to his face. “About what?”
    “Thirty-year old men. Should we let ourselves go?”
    “No, not if you’re single.” She didn’t think he’d ever look bad though, not even with a double chin and a dad belly.
    “That was a pretty big sigh, Miss Wannassay. What you thinking about?”
    “You really are disgustingly attractive,” she admitted.
    He laughed. “Until I go bald, then it’s all over.”
    “Nah. Still hot. Besides, these days, you can just glue on toupees so perfectly that no one can tell. I saw an infomercial.” She leaned forward. “Let’s say in ten years you have a bald spot. Perfectly normal. But you can cover it up and no one would ever know.”
    His torso shook as he laughed. “What an addition to the morning routine. Brush teeth, shave, glue fake hair to head.”
    “The things we do for beauty.” Yakima shrugged. “What about all the extensions women get these days? That’s just gluing or clipping on hair. How is it any different? Not to mention coloring.”
    “I’ve done that. I drew the short straw to be the blond member of Thunder Road.”
    “So basically, you sold yourself down the river right from the start.” She remembered his blond hair phase. He’d stood out on Thunder Road posters, between the hair and the guitar he always had across his chest.
    “I’d left home. I had to support myself. It was my shot. I’d have