I’m jealous.

There. I said it.

Icy Hot Princess had a date last night with some dude next door and I’m jealous.

It was all she talked about on the drive home from HC Headquarters. That and the fact La Boutique offered her the publishing deal she so badly wants. I’m happy for her. About the publishing deal. Not the date. Just to be clear.

After I dropped her and Truffles off at Chateau De Grenelle, I drove straight home, showered, and helped Nana and Gramps pack. Then, the three of us enjoyed a bowl of Nana’s famous onion soup. The two of them got on my case, adamantly suggesting I come clean with Lauren about who I really am.

“Jaxson Malone will catch up with you eventually. Run from all of the Dixie Lane drama, yes. But you can’t run away from you,” Gramps said as we all ate outside on the terrace.

Then Nana couldn’t resist chiming in, as well, when she said, “Besides, what is so bad about Jaxson Malone, anyway? The fact that the fame-seeking mutt turned down your proposal? She is the one who needs to hide, Grandson. Not you. America loves you, has sympathy for you. And so do your fans here in France. Believe me, there are many who have streamed that show, many who probably have issues of that magazine Alpine—”

“Alpha Male,” I corrected, then chuckled.

She giggled. “Yes, that one. Anyway, what do you think Lauren will do if you tell her who you are? Hire another driver? Why would she? Perhaps knowing you have a celeb background may make her feel comfortable with you—closing the gap with having something in common. And if she remembers bumping into you at the airport, then what’s wrong with that?”

I thought long and hard about their advice, then decided they’re right. Why hide who I am from Lauren? Explain that I came to escape the media, the show, and that I just want to chill for a bit, help out with the business. She may have a sassy bite to her, but I don’t see Lauren as the type to ridicule.

So, I plan to tell her today. Either on the way to HC Headquarters or on the way back this evening.

The double doors fly open. It’s Lauren making her way to the car now.

Glowing. Beautiful. Dressed in tight jeans and thigh-high boots.

If she weren’t a fashion designer, she could certainly pass for a model.

Her long ponytail rocks back and forth with her every step.

It’s hard to look away; like the Mona Lisa, Lauren is that something new each time you see her.

I hop out, open the door for her and say, “Good morning,” as she brushes past me. “Where is Truffles?”

She smiles, her teeth the color of pearls. “Oh, Truffles decided to sleep in, so Jules will entertain him today.”

Icy Hot Princess slides into the seat, I shut the door, and a whiff of her perfume dances around my nose.

Damn, she smells so good. Apples and Violets. Her signature scent.

On the road, she busies herself with her phone, scrolling, scrolling scrolling. And I gotta ask her what I’ve been wondering most of last night and all of this morning.

“How was your date?”

She smirks, still looking down at her phone. “It was lovely. I think I may have found the man of my dreams, Jack.”

Great. That’s not quite the answer I wanted to hear.

“Sweet. So yesterday was a victory day, with the news of the magazine, and of course it seems you may have found Mister Right.” I hope she doesn’t detect the sarcasm dripping from me.

I wanna barf.

“Yep,” she says, now looking up, a pensive glow in her eyes. “What happened to your girlfriend, Jack? When I asked you if had one, you said, not anymore.”

“She broke my heart. It’s part of the reason I’m here in Paris. To forget.” I admit, without hesitation.

Her immediate head tilt and set of furrowed brows on display speaks volumes. “Aww, Jack I’m so sorry to hear that. I do hope your heart heals soon. Paris is a wonderful place to help you forget about your past. God knows it has helped me.”

More curious than ever I ask, “Oh, you came to Paris to forget your past?”

She chuckles and moves her gaze out the window. “Well in my case, I came Paris to escape.”

Hmm. Let the mystery unfold.

“If you don’t mind me asking, escape what?”

She sighs, still looking out the window, then says, “My mama. My sister. Savannah.”

Her phone rings. Bad timing.

She removes it from her purse, looks at the screen, and answers, “Hey André, everything alright?” She pauses. “Really? Wow, how sweet. I can’t wait to see them. I’ll be there soon. And can you ask the café to have a warm croissant and an iced coffee waiting for me?” Another pause. “Lovely. See you in a bit, sweetie.”

Looking amused, she tosses her phone back into her purse, before she folds her arms, taking a deep breath in then out. A smile tugs at her lips.

“Everything good?”

She nods. “Everything is more than good. Apparently my date sent a gift to my office this morning. One dozen small teddy bears. I guess he took the time to read about me and my dislike of flowers. André said he peeked at the card and it says ‘if not one dozen flowers, surely one dozen teddy bears will suffice. Thanks for last night. I’m looking forward to spending more time with you.’ ”

She lets out a breathy sigh.

And me?

Well, it should be rather obvious.

I’m still jealous.