The BIllionaire and the Rock Star

“Your dating app.” Alaric tensed his jaw, his voice lowering to a dangerous level. “You practically begged me to sign up. I did. And today, I finally meet with the girl I’ve been talking to for weeks and it turns out to be Gigi Weber. Rock star and budding celebrity Gigi Weber. How do you explain that?”

Smithy’s jaw dropped and he stared blankly at him. It was the first time in their friendship that Alaric remembered Kevin Smith being silent.

They’d met a year ago when Alaric started physical therapy. Smithy had lost both his legs in Iraq and was well on the long road of therapy. For some reason, the talkative, ultra-cheery war-vet had taken it upon himself to cheer up a surly Alaric Hammond. Eventually, Alaric’s walls had come down and they’d become close friends.

“Wait, you matched with Gigi Weber?” The young blonde woman sitting across from Smithy finally caught Alaric’s attention. She was sitting with her legs crossed in a smart navy blue dre

ss and a string of pearls around her neck. She leaned forward, her blue eyes sparkling with interest. “She seems like a sweetheart. Tell me, how did it go?”

“Great, if you like a side of paparazzi with your meal,” he said bitterly. The sound of the camera clicking away still haunted him. “Who are you?”

Smithy laughed as if it were a ridiculous question and pointed toward her. “This is Emily Knight. She’s the beating heart behind the app. Emily, this is Alaric Hammond. He’s the buddy I’ve been telling you about.”

Emily’s eyes grew wide and her eyebrows raised. “The Alaric Hammond? Owner of the Hammond clothing empire? I shop in your stores all the time. My husband says that because of you, he’ll have to buy an apartment just for all my clothes.”

Alaric growled an unintelligible response. He hadn’t intended on confronting Smithy in front of anyone. And if he had felt like a fool before, it was nothing to what he felt now. He hadn’t even wanted to date anyone. Not since the accident two years ago. But Smithy had practically forced him.

Surprisingly, he’d connected with someone right away. Sweet Daisy Jane. She had no profile picture, but had been easy to talk to. They’d chat every evening before bed. It had become part of his routine. He hadn’t planned on meeting her face-to-face, until he’d agreed on a whim just last night.

There was a reason Alaric Hammond didn’t usually act out on his whims. It certainly wasn’t the way he’d transformed his grandfather’s small clothing store into a multi-national retail company and built his massive fortune. Whims were for other people. Reckless people.

“Listen, man, there was no manipulating your matches,” Smithy said, giving him a shrug. “If you were matched with Gigi Weber, it was because that’s what was supposed to happen. We just happen to be in negotiations with her publicist for her to join the app as our sponsor. Nothing’s official yet. But I gotta say, I’m pretty jealous. Is she as gorgeous in real life as on her album cover?”

Alaric huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, refusing to answer. He couldn’t deny that Georgia was stunning. Her luxurious black curly hair had framed her porcelain face like a picture frame. She’d worn a pair of tight gray designer jeans with holes in the knees above suede ankle boots, all paired with a black leather jacket. A feminine soft pink tank top underneath had completed the look. From the moment he saw her across the room, he hadn’t been able to stop staring. She didn’t seem real.

And once he’d made the connection between her and the quiet girl with the vivid green eyes who used to sit behind him in anatomy class, he’d almost allowed himself to think this was meant to be. That was, until the cameras started clicking away.

The last thing he needed right now was the public eye. Not when he’d avoided it so carefully since the accident. They’d love to hear that he’d returned to his old ways. Nothing sold a tabloid in San Jose like a billionaire bad boy on a bender.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, running his tongue over his teeth. “I’m not dating anyone, least of all a celebrity. This has got to end.”

Emily looked up at him, sympathy clouding her eyes. “Well, if that’s the way you feel, don’t tell us. Tell Gigi Weber.”

He grimaced. He doubted very much that Gigi Weber would care if he dropped off the edge of the planet. A woman like that had scores of men lining down the street to have her autograph their biceps. She was just another celebrity out to cash in on her fame. He had been an innocent bystander, caught in her wake.

So much for all those late night messages back and forth. She probably didn’t even write them. It was probably her publicist or someone she’d hired to fool the poor schmucks she got matched with.

“She’s already shut down her account,” he said, pointing at his phone on the desk. “Believe me. I’ve tried.”

“The rumor on the web is that Gigi Weber is holed up at Marigold Hill Hotel,” Smithy said, wagging his eyebrows. “It’s just a short drive away. I’m sure you could find her there.”

“Yes, these things are much better done in person.” Emily nodded, pressing her lips into a small smile. “I’d say, find her there and let her know how you feel.”

Alaric’s gaze flickered between the two, the wheels in his head turning. Georgia had certainly bulldozed him over during their supposedly simple lunch date. He would like nothing better than to march up to her hotel room and tell her just exactly what he thought about her using him for her little celebrity campaign.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt driven to follow their advice.

“Yes,” he said, leaning over to press his knuckles onto the surface of Smithy’s desk. “I think I’ll do that. First thing tomorrow morning.”

“Perfect.” Smithy’s cheeks grew even rounder as he beamed at his friend. “Don’t be late for PT, though. Dr. Anand promised to put us through our paces tomorrow. And I don’t know about you, but she scares me a little bit. Don’t make me go through this alone.”

An unbidden smile formed on Alaric’s face. He was pretty sure Smithy could handle anything Dr. Anand threw at him. Especially since he seemed to worship the pretty physical therapy doctor.

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I can forget with this thing strapped to me.” Alaric raised the hemline of his pants until the black metal of his prosthetic right leg came into view. He’d been fitted with it over a year ago, but he was still quick to hide it from view. A permanent reminder of all his past mistakes. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Smithy slowly pushed up from the desk until he stood on his own two prosthetic legs. He placed his fists on his hips like a super hero and grinned proudly. “I’ve been practicing with these puppies all week. No more wheelchair for this computer geek. The sky’s the limit.”

Emily cheered and Alaric’s lips twitched with a grin. No matter how bad he thought his day was, he could never get over Smithy’s unrelenting positive attitude. The guy had every reason to be angry with the world, but he kept on chugging. It kept things in perspective.