Which left her just enough time to stop by a local bakery for a dozen cupcakes—she was a big believer in never approaching a band empty handed—before driving to the Island, the small, exclusive peninsula where Quinn Bradford and Ryder Montgomery owned houses.
Caleb, genius planner that he was, had left her credentials at the gatehouse to the exclusive neighborhood, and then it was just a matter of following the trails around until she found Quinn’s house.
She pulled up his long, winding driveway slowly, promising herself that everything was going to be fine. Telling herself that her “disguise” would totally work. Reminding herself to breathe.
She’d brought cupcakes, after all. They’d probably be so blinded by the chocolate frosting that they’d barely even look at her.
After pulling into one of the guest parking spaces to the left of the main house, she gathered her cupcakes and her courage and made her way to the small guesthouse (and by small she meant a couple thousand square feet) that Caleb had told her served as Quinn’s recording studio. If she was lucky, maybe they’d already be hard at work and have no time to deal with her at all right now.
Except no one answered her first knock or her second or even her third. She was about to try the door—maybe they were all in headphones or something—when a hot pink, totally bedazzled Harley Davidson pulled up the driveway and stopped right in front of the door to the main house.
A woman wearing tight jeans and a leather jacket the same color as the Harley slowly climbed down. As she pulled her helmet off, she stared straight at Poppy, her long dark hair flying in the breeze behind her. She was wearing motorcycle gloves, but as she took them off, Poppy saw that one of her wrists was tightly wrapped in an ace bandage.
So this was Elise McKinney, piano maestro and Quinn’s fiancée. She had to admit, the pink Harley and leather jacket were so not what she’d been expecting of the former child prodigy. Then again, she’d lost nearly everything a couple of months ago in the car crash that had left her wrist damaged and her unable to perform. Maybe all these changes were part of learning to live with the nightmare of that.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Elise asked, and Poppy couldn’t help but notice she kept the motorcycle between them. Not that she blamed her—fans could be crazy, especially when you reached the status Shaken Dirty had.
“My name is Poppy G—” She froze right before she blurted out her last name and ruined all of the morning’s hard work before she even had a chance to test out her disguise. In her defense, she’d warned her brother she was a terrible liar. Not that that would matter. He’d still kill her.
She gave a quick cough to cover, then cleared her throat. “The label and management sent me. I’m the new social media person. I was supposed to stop by today and meet the guys.”
“Oh, right.” Elise’s whole face relaxed when she smiled, her reserve melting into a quiet friendliness that was hard not to respond to. “I don’t think they’ve started yet. Come on in the house.”
She took the steps up to the front door two at a time, gesturing with her good hand for Poppy to follow her. They made their way through the fancy marble foyer, down a winding hallway past what might be the most beautiful music room she’d ever seen, and into a kitchen filled with natural light. And gorgeous, tattooed men.
The four remaining members of Shaken Dirty were sitting around the big, round kitchen table, boxes of pizza spread out before them. Four bright shiny bottles of soda open in front of them. Soda. Not beer. Not scotch. Not even wine coolers. Not that she expected wine coolers, but she sure as hell didn’t expect Cherry Cokes either. Maybe she wasn’t the only one worried about Wyatt falling off the wagon…
They were also talking over and around one another, and laughing while doing it. Jared was telling Wyatt about a Rolling Stones concert he’d attended a few months before, while Quinn and Ryder were arguing about the season premiere of some TV show she’d never heard of. Except both pairs also seemed to be paying attention to what the other pair was talking about because they would interject comments at random moments, which often led to debate and more laughter.
The whole thing was both chaotic and also delightful to watch, the friendship and camaraderie between them more than obvious. At least until Quinn spotted Elise and reached over, mid-sentence, to drag her into his lap so that he could plant a kiss on her.
A very deep, very thorough kiss.
“Geez, man, she’s only been gone an hour,” Jared ribbed him. “I’m pretty sure her tonsils are still intact.”
Quinn flipped him off, keeping his mouth planted firmly on Elise’s. He only glanced up when Ryder looked over at Poppy and raised his brows. “Who are you?”
Suddenly, every guy in the room was looking at her. And while Poppy had had a lot of experience with rock stars through the years, she still wasn’t anywhere close to being prepared for the powerful wave of sexual magnetism that hit her as four of the sexiest alpha males in existence leveled their attention at her.