Stone Cold Notes: A Rock Star Romance (The Seasons Change)
Stone Cold Notes: Chapter 1

THIS WOMAN THOUGHT I WAS DUMB. Really and truly stupid. And there was a chance she was right. I couldn’t transfer a call for the life of me. Being it was a pretty vital part of my job as a receptionist, I understood the tone she was taking with me. That didn’t mean I liked it.

My new coworker, Natalie, tapped her coffin-shaped, matte-black nail on the phone’s buttons. “You can’t hang up on them. You know that, right?”

I kept my face straight, working hard not to blush, but it was a lost cause. My cheeks were on fire with embarrassment…and a little bit of anger. Contrary to what I’d shown, I had more than three brain cells.

“It wasn’t on purpose. I haven’t used a phone like this before. I’ll get the hang of it quickly.”

Her smoky eyes narrowed. Actually, all of her narrowed. Arms crossing on the curved, high surface of my desk, her tattooed shoulders bunched below her gauged ears, her shiny lips pursed.

“I won’t babysit you,” she hissed.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I replied.

Someone to actually train me on my first day would have been lovely. Natalie, the person who had been assigned the task, had no interest. She’d shown that from the moment I’d arrived this morning, throwing me to the wolves without so much as a ‘the bathrooms are down the hall, bitch.’ And that was fine. I really was a fast learner, I just hated making a fool of myself.

The phone rang, and Natalie watched me with raised eyebrows. Stomach in my throat, I pressed the answer button and spoke into my headset.

“Good morning, this is Wren. You’ve reached Good Music. How can I help you?”

I thought that sounded professional. I’d practiced it in the mirror last night and on my subway ride this morning. I just had to remember to switch over to ‘good afternoon’ when the time came.

The person on the other end asked to be transferred to someone in engineering. I put them on hold and sucked in a breath. Natalie hadn’t blinked once during this process. When I successfully made the transfer, I exhaled, and she finally allowed her eyelids to lower.

“There. Even a trained monkey could do it.” She smirked like she was clever and not spouting trite idioms.

I tilted my head and widened my eyes. “How long did you say you had this job before your promotion?”

She stilled except for her eyes. They scanned me up and down, then a slow smile spread on her shiny lips. “Well, damn.” Her nails flicked in my general direction. “I didn’t expect you to have claws. Look at you.”

I wondered if I should have apologized. The last thing I wanted was to make an enemy. I kind of hoped to be at this job for a while. But I hadn’t counted on someone like Natalie.

“What’s up with all the animal comparisons? Am I a monkey or a kitten?” Guess I wasn’t apologizing.

Her face reddened, and I thought I was done for. Three hours had to be a world record for the shortest time holding a job. I wasn’t even sure Natalie had the authority to fire me since she was only one step above me in the food chain, but I shouldn’t have been taking chances—not on my first day at a job I desperately needed. I still couldn’t quite believe I’d landed it in the first place, but that was beside the point.

She burst out laughing, tossing her head back with glee. “Oh, shit. Maybe I do like you.” Leaning over my desk to peer down at my outfit, her lips pressed together in a curved line. “You came in here looking like a lost little preschool teacher. I didn’t think you’d last a day. Now, I’m not so sure.”

I’d dealt with mean girls my whole life, but I had hoped that legacy wouldn’t follow me into the workplace. At what point did we grow up and get over it all? I was beyond ready for today to be the day.

I squared my shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere. I need this job.”

Her amusement was tempered slightly by my declaration. “That’s good to know. We have way too many girls who work here solely to meet rock stars. If I was involved in the hiring process, I’d throw in some music questions. Like, what’s your favorite band, Wren?”

“I don’t know. Foo Fighters. Blue is the Color. I like the White Stripes too.”

She rapped her knuckles on the desk. “See? That’s a good answer. None of those bands record here. If you’d said The Seasons Change or Blossoms and Bones, I wouldn’t have hired you.” She fluffed her glossy mane of finger waves. “But it’s not my decision. I’m just the one who has to work with the thirsty chicks they hire to sit at this desk.”

Good Music housed recording studios and some rehearsal spaces for artists signed to Good Music Records. Since GMR was a massive label with multiple smaller labels under its umbrella touching on every genre of music out there, the studios were bustling day in and day out. At least, that’s what I’d been told. As the receptionist manning the front desk, I saw everyone who entered the building. So far, it had been relatively quiet, but it wasn’t even noon. According to Natalie, musicians were night owls. The building never closed, and recording sessions often went overnight.

“That’s not me, I can promise you that. I’m here to work, not drool over musicians.”

“Good.” Natalie nodded. “I’ll hold you to that. Because some of these idiots think flirting is their job. If you show them even an ounce of interest, they’ll have you bent over a copier faster than you can say ‘I love your music.’ Trust me, keep it professional or you’ll regret it.”

She looked me over again, beginning at my sapphire-blue pleated skirt, which hit midcalf, up to my plain, long-sleeved black T-shirt. Her gaze swept over my small mouth, medium nose, and oversized brown eyes. She paused on my hair. Everyone did. It was light copper, thick and shiny—the only truly memorable part of me.

“Well, as long as you’re not throwing yourself at anyone, you probably won’t have a problem.” She added a smile on the end of her barb, I guessed to soften the blow. I already knew a rock star wasn’t going to walk in and sweep me off my feet without her driving the point home.

My phone rang again, and Natalie watched me like a hawk while I handled the call. When I was about to press a button, she hissed, and my finger froze midair. Reaching down, she jabbed a different button, successfully transferring the call for me.

“Ugh. I’m sorry. I’ll get this soon.” My cheeks were flaming hot again. I hated being bad at something that should have been simple. My college diploma did not prepare me for this.

She came around the desk and perched a hip beside my phone. “Honestly, no biggie. To tell you the truth, I hung up on the owner of this whole place on my second day. Saul freaking Goodman got my dial tone. And let me tell you, he did not find the humor in it.”

With that whiplash of a confession, Natalie ran through the phone system like she was talking to a child, and it was exactly what I needed. By the end of her lesson, I had pretty much caught on and felt fairly confident I wouldn’t hang up on anyone. For the most part.

She left me alone, retreating to her cubbyhole of an office at the rear of the lobby. She handled the main administrative work while I greeted everyone who came in, handled phone calls, and did anything else that was asked of me. Natalie was right, a trained monkey could do this job. It was a stepping stone for me. My first big girl job post-college. The key to exiting struggleville for good.

A few people came and went over the next couple hours. A tall man with sunglasses on, taking long, confident strides across the shiny marble floor, really caught my attention, and I put on my best smile to greet him.

“Good morning. Welcome to Good Music,” I singsonged.

His steps slowed. He brought up his hand and pulled back his sleeve to check the chunky watch on his wrist. “It’s afternoon now.” Then he walked over to my desk, propping an elbow on it. “You’re not the girl who was here the last time I was in.”

“I’m not. This is my first day.” I rubbed the goose bumps on my arms. I was terrible at speaking to men, but this was part of my job. “Good afternoon. Can I help you with anything?”

He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, revealing crystal clear blue eyes. “I don’t think so. Not now at least. I always need help with something, though. I’m Adam. What’s your name?”

My heart thrashed wildly in my chest. And it was from more than nerves. I had to swallow down a thick lump to answer him. “I’m Wren.” My lips strained to keep the smile plastered on my face.

This beautiful, famous man in front of me took no notice of my wobbly smile. “Wren? Like a little bird? That’s cute.”

Little Bird.

“No.” I shook my head harder than I should have. “Just Wren.”

He canted his head, still interested despite my sharp rebuke. “Ah…you have one of those rad, unique names that probably got you teased by the idiots you went to school with, huh?”

I nodded, swallowing hard again. “Yes. I really don’t like nicknames.”

“I feel you, Wren. Although, I still say Little Bird is cute as hell, like you.” He tapped his blunt fingertips. “How’s your first day going?”

My chest was in knots. Sweat beaded at my hairline. I was about thirty seconds from vomiting. “It’s going great.” That was all I could wrench out of me.

His brow lowered, and he leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial. “You’re nervous. Is it the job, or am I doing that to you?”

From the way he raked his pretty eyes over me, it seemed like he hoped he was the cause of my shaky answers and sweaty palms. And he was, in a way, but not directly.

For once, I willed my phone to ring, but it remained silent. Traitor. And Adam Wainwright, lead guitarist for The Seasons Change, seemed to be in no hurry to leave. He was enjoying the sight of me quite literally quaking in my boots.

“A mixture of both, I think,” I squeezed out.

His mouth opened to reply, or flirt, or tease, but another man entered the building behind him, and the gust of icy wind from outside pulled both our eyes in that direction.

Callum Rose was impossible not to recognize. Bass player for The Seasons Change, his rockabilly style would have been distinguishable without his towering height and shoulder-length blond hair. Callum didn’t so much stride as he did saunter, his hands tucked snugly in a fitted leather jacket, the chain hanging from his belt loops bouncing softly on the side of his leg.

Black spots danced in my vision. If he spoke to me, I would faint. There was nothing I could do to stop it. I should have prepared for the possibility of seeing him here, but I hadn’t. And the reality of seeing Callum in person was far beyond any feeble preparations I could have made anyway.

“S’up, man?” Adam greeted him. Callum tipped his chin and rolled a toothpick along his lips like a character from a James Dean film. His blue eyes swept over me like I was a piece of furniture.

And then…he kept going, passing us both without even a slight pause, to take the elevators up to the third floor. Adam snorted at my vacant expression.

“Don’t bother with pleasantries with good ol’ Cal. He’s a man of very few words.” Adam’s brow lowered, and his sparkling blue eyes locked on me. “You can save the sweet for me. I can’t get enough of it.”

Sucking in a ragged breath, I forced my lips to curve. “Does that line work for you often?”

Chuckling, he patted the desk with both hands and took a step back. “Oh, you have no idea. See you soon, sweet Wren.”

As soon as he was gone, I folded in half, looping my arms under my thighs, and sucked in deep breaths that only mildly calmed my racing pulse. It was the stinging in my eyes that was the true problem. If I cried on my first day at work, I’d never be able to live it down. Even if no one saw me do it, I would know. And that was…no.

I wouldn’t cry over Callum Rose. I’d done enough of that three and a half years ago. The man who made me fall in love with his words then broke my heart when our eyes first met. I had been as invisible to him then as I was now.

My eyes dried. My spine stiffened. Everything was fine. I had a great new job. My family was healthy and taken care of. My outfit was cute, despite Natalie’s obvious disdain. I’d just been flirted with by a rock star.

The phone rang, and I answered with my cheeriest greeting. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I managed to transfer the caller without hanging up.

Everything was definitely fine.

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