Page 6 of Wrong For Me

This time when she laughs, it sounds a lot more normal. “Tell them they’re ridiculous.”

He squeezes her shoulder. “Tell them yourself. I don’t want to put up with their grumpy asses if they don’t get their hugs before the show.”

Rose shoots me a worried glance. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

The guy finally seems to notice that she was talking to someone, and his eyes, so much like the ones I’ve been gazing into all night, snap to me, suspicion suddenly lining his face.

He doesn’t say anything though. Just gives her shoulder another squeeze before walking away, half the room stopping what they’re doing to watch him pass.

I guess that’s the kind of reaction you get when you’re Daltrey Ransome, arguably the most famous singer in the world.

Rose isn’t meeting my gaze anymore. “Sorry about that,” she murmurs. “My, um, Dad. I promised I’d go back stage before their set.”

Her dad. Daltrey Ransome is her dad. And she promised she’d go backstage before their set. BeforeRansom’sset. Holy shit.

I suddenly remember the way she had seemed to stiffen when Bodhi mentioned the “big guns” taking the stage. He’d been referring to them, of course. To Ransom. The festival’s headliner.

Rose’s family, apparently.

“Uh, right,” I manage to say, my voice practically unrecognizable.

Rose gives me a smile—a sad, shaky little smile—and holds up the last drink. “Thank you for this,” she says.

“No problem.”

Her face seems to crumple, just for a second, but then she straightens her shoulders, expression flattening as she pulls some bills out of her pocket.

“No,” I say, my voice too sharp. But something about her offering to give me money for the minutes we just spent together has my hackles rising. “It’s not necessary,” I manage in a softer tone. “Drinks are free in the VIP section.”

“I want to leave you a tip,” she says softly.

I grit my teeth. “It’s really not necessary.”

But she slips a bill into the jar in front of me all the same. “Thank you, Leo.” Even though her tone is soft, her expression remains blank. Completely different from the bright, shining smile she’d worn before.

Then she’s turning to follow the path Daltrey Ransome just took backstage.

“Holy. Shit.”

I turn to see Bodhi standing at my side, mouth gaped open, eyes wide. “Was that…”

“Daltrey Ransome,” I mutter. Rose’s father.

“Seriously?TheDaltrey Ransome?”

“Why is that so surprising?” I snap. “He’s performing in less than an hour.”

“Yeah, but he was standing right there. Breathing the same air. Youtalkedto him.”

I hadn’t talked to him, but I don’t bother correcting Bodhi. “I need to go grab another case of the Stella,” I mutter. “The line will get long before the headliner goes on.”

He nods, mouth hanging open, and I can tell he’s still reeling with excitement at the up-close celebrity sighting we just experienced.

Excitement is the last thing I’m feeling.

I’d had every intention of leaving tonight with Rose’s phone number. I still thought Bodhi was full of shit—no way did I have heart eyes, whatever the hell that means—but it would be pointless to say I wasn’t attracted to this girl. That there wasn’t something about her that drew me closer in a way I hadn’t ever felt before. There had been a spark there, damn it, and I’d already been planning the best way to convince her that she should spend time with me after my shift was over.

But now?

She’s a member of rock and roll royalty, for fuck’s sake. Her dad is the lead singer of Ransom. Which means he’s also one of the co-owners of their hugely successful music label. No one has produced more top-selling artists in the last decade than Six Man Band Records.

All of that adds up to one thing—Rose’s family is completely loaded. Loaded and famous and beloved by just about every rock music fan in the country. I can’t even imagine what her life must be like. Glamorous and exciting, I’m sure. The polar opposite of mine.

Rose is the kind of girl who hangs out in the VIP section. And I’m the kind of guy who gets paid to make drinks for rich girls like her and crosses his fingers for a tip at the end.

I bring the case of Stella back to the bar and see that, just as I predicted, the line is growing long again. I’m grateful for the distraction of the work, grateful to have something to do with my hands.

Even before Ransom takes the stage to thunderous applause, I know I’m not asking for Rose’s number. What I don’t understand is why that bothers me so much. She’s hot, sure, but it’s not like I even know this girl.

What I do know is that she’s completely and totally out of my league. And that upsets me more than I’ll ever admit.