Page 33 of A Way Out (Rock Star #2)

As soon as he tugged open the door, the scent of good old-fashioned fried chicken made his mouth water. Who needed regular sex when there was soul food to devour?

He was seated at the last remaining table and placed his order: fried chicken, collard greens, and macaroni and cheese—he figured he’d burned plenty of calories running from those groupies earlier—along with a bottle of Heineken.

He’d taken only a few bites when the door swung open and a woman stepped inside, paused, and swept her gaze over every person inside the restaurant, like she was judging each and every one of them.

Travis recognized the type. Wealthy, old money. Possibly famous, given the dark glasses she was still wearing despite the dimly lit interior of the restaurant.

Her wavy, chestnut hair was pulled back from her face and secured into a semi-messy bun at her nape. Her skin was dewy and clear, her lips coated with a shiny, nude gloss. She wore a pair of fitted yoga pants and a pullover under a buttoned-up wool coat.

Elegant. That’s the word he’d use to describe her.

If she were remotely a stereotype, she definitely wouldn’t recognize a rock ’n roll bad boy drummer. Especially dressed the way he was.

Of course, if the stereotype held, she also likely wasn’t the sort to be into one-night stands, so why he was even still staring at her was beyond him.

Okay, it wasn’t at all beyond him. She was fucking beautiful. It was easy to watch her while he polished off his late lunch.

He nearly choked on a chicken bone when she strode right up to his table and gazed at him through her sunglasses.

“May I join you?” she asked in a voice that wasn’t at all native New Yorker.

Shit, was his first impression that far off? Was she a groupie? Damn it, his disguise had never let him down before. “Do I know you?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. It’s just that I’m absolutely craving some barbeque chicken, and this restaurant is the best in the area, hands down.”

“Okay.” What the hell did that have to do with him?

“And I don’t want to wait. And I don’t want to take it to go. I’m not ready to go back to my apartment yet.”

Was she for real? “So you figured you’d just ask some random stranger if you could join him?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I figured. You’re clearly eating alone, and to be honest, you look like you’re nearly done. I’ll pick up the tab if that will help sway you.”

“I don’t need you to buy my lunch.” He waved at the empty chair across from him. What the hell. This could be fun. And seriously, she was not hard on the eyes.

The server headed over with a menu, but Travis’s new dining partner waved the plastic document off without looking at it and ordered barbeque chicken, tossed salad, fries, and two bottled waters. Clearly, she’d been here before.

“And another Heiny,” he added before the young guy walked away.

“I thought I wasn’t buying your lunch,” the woman said as she started to unbutton her coat. For a moment, he was mesmerized by the way her slender, nimble fingers plucked at the material, slid the buttons out of their holes, and holy shit, he was a freak.

He shook his head and dragged his gaze to her face. “Maybe I’m buying your lunch.”

She hadn’t removed the sunglasses, yet he could tell she rolled her eyes as she pulled her coat off her shoulders.

Travis’s heart sank to his feet. The logo on her pullover. Panic Station. Sam and Holly Stokes’s band. The lead singer for Travis’s own band, Lacey, was Sam’s sister.

Chances were, if this woman was a fan of Panic Station, she was aware of Demigoddess Revival, too, since they were kicking off their joint tour with this show tonight in Madison Square Garden.

Damn it.

She glanced down at her shirt. “What? You don’t like them?”

“I do, actually. And I assume you do, too, if you’re wearing their swag.”

She shrugged and greedily twisted the cap off one of her waters the second the server handed it to her. “My sister gave me this pullover. I wouldn’t recognize their music unless you told me who it was, to be honest.”

No way . He leaned closer. “You don’t listen to rock?”

She shook her head. “Country girl. At least, as far as my musical tastes go.”

Well, hot damn. He lounged in his seat and casually took a pull from his bottle of beer. “My name’s Travis.”

“Ava. Nice to meet you.” She stretched her hand across the table. He shook it, enjoying the feel of her warm, smooth skin.

Her food arrived, and she dove in with the same gusto he’d had.

“Are you from here, or are you a tourist like me?” he asked.

She swallowed and took a drink before replying. “From the West Coast, but I’ve lived in the city for the last fourteen years. What brings you to town, Travis?”

“Work.” He didn’t like lying, but he wasn’t about to tell her who he really was. Because even though he had a feeling that one-night stands were not her thing, he couldn’t help but hope he was wrong.

One dark brow arched over the top of her sunglasses. “You’re stuck out of town over the new year?”

“There are definitely worse places to be stuck than New York City.”

“This is true.” She tore off a piece of chicken and popped it into her mouth. “I’m feeling better already.”

“Were you sick?”

“Hungover,” she corrected. “At one o’clock in the afternoon. I’ve literally never been hungover before in my life, and the first time I drink too much, it’s before noon. I guess I’m into going big or going home, huh?”

He chuckled. “Been there, done that. Did you nap?”

“I did.”

“Smart girl. After this meal, you’ll be ready to go to whatever party you’re attending tonight.”

She sat back and guzzled water. “No party. In fact, if this were a normal New Year’s Eve, I’d still be working right now. But I am turning over a new leaf, as it happens. And that includes actually going out on New Year’s Eve. My sister invited me to a concert.”

“A concert?” They obviously weren’t the only band in town, but they were playing the largest arena in the city, so chances were…

“Who you going to see?”

“This band”—she pointed at her shirt—“and another one called…” She snapped her fingers several times.

“Demigoddess Revival?” he suggested.

She pointed a finger gun at him. “That’s it.”

He took a swig of beer to try to suppress his laugh. “As a matter of fact, I am too.”

“Really?” She eyed him speculatively. “You don’t strike me as the rock concert type.”

His disguise worked. “I could say the same about you.”

“And you’d be right. She’s been bugging me for years, and I’ve never said yes. But new leaf and all that.”

The server came and swept away their dishes. Travis whipped out his card and handed it to the kid before Ava could reach for her purse.

“Oh come on, I totally invaded your space. You can’t pay for my meal,” she protested.

“Sure I can, and honestly, it was way more fun with you here. But how about you make it up to me?”

He could practically see her guard shifting up into place, so he quickly added, “Since you live here, you probably know the best dessert place in the area. Why don’t you show me, and I’ll let you treat me?”

She laughed and tugged her coat over her shoulders. “That sounds like a plan. Come on.”