Manhandled: A Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 2) Read Free

look beautiful, Faith.” She clutched my fingers quickly before backing up to stand beside the hubs.
    Andrew nodded at me. “Hey, sis.”
    “Aren’t you two all glowy?”
    Hope twisted her fingers with Andrew’s and looked up at him with adoring eyes. “We’re having another girl.”
    A small twinge hit me low. I wasn’t even close to ready for the baby train my sister was on, but again—someone in my life with stars in their eyes for a man. It seemed so foreign to me.
    Would Hunter and Kenny be just like them this time next year?
    Perish the thought.
    “Mom and Dad were looking for you as well.”
    “They’re still here?”
    “Yes. Dad ran into a few clients, so they decided to stay for the reception.”
    Fabulous.
    Noah came up beside me, and I practically snatched the glass out of his fingers. He gave me that Noah arched brow he’d perfected when I downed it and relieved him of his own. Today was going to require far more alcohol than I’d first thought.
    Hope eyed Noah before slanting a look at me. “Who’s your friend?”
    Oh, no. I could see the matchmaker gleam in my sister’s eye. She wanted me as blissfully attached as she was.
    My family didn’t understand any part of my lifestyle. From the full ride at Berkeley that I’d turned down to go on tour with Hammered, to the trust fund I’d created with my fame. None of it made any sense to my high-powered, very rich family.
    I may have grown up with a silver spoon—literally—in my mouth, but I’d never really cared about the huge house and labels, unless I counted my Chucks. There were no other shoes that would do as far as I was concerned. Probably why I had a good twenty-seven pairs at last count. Nor did I like the list of acceptable men that my father seemed to have for his girls.
    Hope had fallen in line quickly, but then again, she liked the Santa Barbara country club set. She’d grown up playing tennis and “doing lunch” with my mother. I’d been too busy sneaking into bars. Not to drink—okay, well, not only to drink. I loved music. I learned how to play the blues and hard rock on the Strip. Any kind of music I wanted to experience, it was there.
    Consequently, I’d never really been all that close to my mother or sister. Didn’t stop them from trying to get me to turn my life around—their words, definitely not mine.
    “This is Noah Jordan, Hunter’s brother.”
    Hope’s eyes sparkled as she held out a very dainty hand with its perfect sheen of pearl polish to accentuate the platinum and diamonds she wore. “What is it that you do, Mr. Jordan?”
    “I’m in a security firm.”
    “Oh.” Hope’s blue eyes widened. “What exactly does that mean?”
    I slurped down the last of Noah’s drink. “It means he carries a gun and shoots people.”
    “Faith,” Hope gasped.
    I shrugged.
    Noah slid his hand along my lower back and thwacked my zipper. I just smiled wider and plucked out an ice cube and crunched loudly.
    “I handle some bodyguard duty, but mostly just a lot of babysitting. Kind of like what your sister needs on occasion.”
    I squinted my eyes at our personal bodyguard. “I have Patrick.” I craned my neck and pointed at the hulking redhead with his arms folded in perpetual pissed off-ness. His hair was buzzed tight to his head and he wore aviators so people didn’t know he was constantly skimming the room for trouble.
    Whether it was from the band members, or outside trouble, was always a crapshoot.
    “He takes care of us on tour. Makes sure the handful of crazy fans stay at a distance.”
    Hope frowned. “What do you mean, ‘crazy’?”
    I glanced down at my short bronze nails and dozen rings stacked on my long fingers. It wasn’t exactly my favorite conversation. For the most part, being a musician was amazing. The tours could be grueling, but the fans were awe-inspiring. Mostly. “Not a big deal. Just some fans get a little overzealous in their love.”
    “Like men?” Hope whispered.
    I glanced up.