MARRYING THE ROCKSTAR (#3 ROCKSTAR SERIES)

♪ thirteen ♪

The door opened, and by some miracle with no glimpse of paparazzi and their intense flashes.

In came Mr. and Mrs. LeGrand, exuberant and excited and eager. LeGrand was Leo's real last name; Lee was his middle name.

I recalled the LeGrands from the party; discreet, not saying much, kind of keeping to themselves. They'd nestled glasses to their chests, observing politely, nibbling at the food. They hadn't stayed long, and I wasn't positive they'd been around for the commotion between Leo and Cameron.

These were not the same people from that night. These were two overbearing parents—like Leo had described them—who were thrilled for their son and jumping up and down to meet his fiancée.

Mrs. LeGrand—call me Heather, please!—smelled like a bouquet of roses and lilies, mixed in with sugar and spring. It was one of those scents you think will be over-the-top but is still pleasing to the nose. Her hair was golden blonde, eyes big and blue as the sky. She appeared as a southern belle, except she was born and raised in Los Angeles, or so Leo had told me.

Mr. LeGrand shook my hand, fingers firm around my palm. He had warm, brown eyes, and a more restrained demeanor though I could tell he was enthusiastic, too. He was tall—that was where Leo got it from—and had the same stature and build as his son, but with a few extra pounds. Charming, skilled with words; again, like his son.

We sat in the living room as Nicky delivered drinks and exchanged hugs. They invited him to sit and chat, but he insisted he was too busy cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

"Oh, I miss Nicky's food," said Heather, after we clinked our glasses and took our first sips.

"How do you know him? I mean, obviously through Leo, but I sense more history there?" I held my glass over my lap, relishing in the colorful flavors of this late morning cocktail crafted by Nicky. A master chef and a skilled bartender; we were lucky to have him around.

"He worked for us before Leo stole him," said Mr. LeGrand, sending a fake glare at his son before chuckling. "Which worked out best for us, since we divorced a few months later and had to split everything up."

I nearly spat out my drink. "Wait, you're divorced?"

Leo, seated beside me, patted my back as if I were choking. "Babe," he said, a fixed smile on his face. He was so demure in front of them, as if trying to be on his best behavior. I'd never seen him so calm, so sober, and it was eerie.

Heather arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow, zoning in on Leo. "You didn't tell her?"

I turned to Leo, my own eyebrows arching. "Tell me what?"

He blew out an exasperated breath and leaned back into the couch cushions. "Sure, Mom, let me tell my fiancée that my parents are rival music producers who got divorced, remarried other people, and are now having a not-so-secret affair?"

This time I did spit out my drink; luckily, it only spilled over my pants, where I'd thankfully placed a napkin. "Whoa, what?" Talk about dysfunctional; Leo's parents were living in a Hollywood drama.

Mr. LeGrand shook his head, looking down, while Heather flushed fifteen different shades of red. "Maybe not that way, and with us sitting right here, but..." she said, wincing as she used a napkin to fan her face. "Yes?"

"Discretion, son," mumbled Mr. LeGrand, draining half his glass. "Anyway, yes, that's our life. How about you two?"

Heather clapped, all her shame vanished. "Yes, yes, you never told us how you met! How you got here! Do tell, do tell!"