Free Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4) by Crystal Kaswell Page A

tell you I posted those pictures from the park." He tilts his chin so he's looking down at me. "I'll make it up to you."
    "I knew you would. That's not the problem."
    "It killed me when I first realized it." He presses his palm between my shoulder blades. "That people are willing to use you like that—" He snaps his fingers.
    There's an ocean of sadness in his eyes.
    The feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach deepens. I'm using him to get what I want. He's using me to get what he wants. Is either of us really any better than the friends who want to talk to me because of my access to a celebrity?
    "You aren't using me, Jess." He stares back at me. "I offered you a rate for a gig. You accepted."
    "So that makes me a contractor?"
    He chuckles. "You're gonna be a fantastic lawyer."
    "I want to get everything straight." I want to be sure where he stands with this whole don't want a girlfriend, my heart is closed thing.
    "Guess so. But we're still friends. We're not going to fall in love, but we're gonna fucking enjoy ourselves."
    I nod. I don't like love being totally off the table, but it's better that way. Safer.
    Pete opens the car door for me and helps me inside.
    "Have you ever had to keep up appearances because of your fame before?" I ask.
    "Can't make a scene. But that's not my thing. Don't have to work at it."
    "How old were you when you became famous?" I ask.
    "Was nineteen the first time somebody stopped me on the street ‘cause she recognized me. Twenty-one when it became a regular thing."
    "How old are you?"
    "Twenty-three."
    "I'm twenty-two." I play with my purse. "I can't imagine anyone stopping me on the street because they recognize me."
    "It'll happen. People will forget the gossip soon, but the next month or two you'll be famous by association."
    "What do I do?"
    "It's like customer service. Smile, nod a thank you, get on with your day."
    "Did you work, before you became a rock star?"
    He cocks a brow. His lips curl into a half smile. "Being a rock star isn't work?"
    Mmm. That smile. It takes great effort to avoid melting.
    I half-smile back. "You know what I mean."
    "Do I?"
    I nod. "You're giving me a hard time."
    Again, he cocks a brow. "Not yet. But I will."
    My cheeks flush. "Oh. That's good." I smooth my skirt. It's hot today. Really hot. "Did you work a regular job before you became a rock star?"
    "At a music shop. Talked a few people into picking up the bass."
    "What's the difference between a bass and a guitar?"
    "Jess, don't do this to me. We're getting along so well," he teases.
    "Is that a deal-breaker, me being bass illiterate?"
    "Absolutely."
    "Then explain it to me."
    He smiles. "Most people see the bass as some less cool guitar. No solos, can't sit on the curb playing songs acoustic for tips. Can't get laid wooing women with Dave Matthews Band."
    "You play guitar too?"
    He nods. "And the piano. Bass will always be my favorite. It's the backbone of a rock song. It doesn't call attention to itself, but the song feels empty without it."
    There's so much passion in his voice. It makes it difficult to contemplate the boundaries of this relationship.
    I clear my throat. I have to think about something besides how much I already like him. "How did you pick it up?"
    "My father played it." Something in his voice changes. "He always encouraged me to pick it up. I wanted to make him proud."
    "Is that your prepared answer?"
    His brow furrows. "Guess it is."
    "What's the truth?"
    "Dad was an asshole. Learned guitar, bass, and piano trying to impress him but he never gave a fuck."
    My chest pangs. My family isn't exactly sunshine and roses, but I always feel like my dad is proud of me. "I'm sorry."
    "Don't be. Play three instruments well now."
    "Why'd you stick with bass?"
    "Like the way it feels in my hands."
    "Can we make a deal?" I ask.
    He cocks a brow.
    "Let's agree not to lie or bullshit each other. Even if the truth hurts."
    "You sure?"
    "Why? Does my hair not look good this color?"
    He laughs.
    I