Jessie
Trusting Aidan Burke is the very last thing I want to do.
In fact, I can’t think of anything worse. It’s akin to having a rusty six-inch nail hammered through my Achilles tendon. But there’s something. . . . There’s something in his voice, an understanding softness laced with gentle laughter that makes me want to trust him. Just for tonight—for right now.
Would it hurt, really? Would trusting him right now really kill me?
And it’s not like I don’t have weapons on my person. Stilettos can be lethal.
“Okay . . .” I say slowly as he pulls into an empty parking space. “What are you thinking?”
He grabs my headrest and twists his body, looking out the back window. Involuntarily, my eyes drop to the tattoo curving around his forearm. The pine trees stretch up, the black ink standing out against his lightly tanned skin, and I can’t stop myself from tracing every minute detail of the branches that stretch out and envelop his lower arm.
“Let’s go.” He yanks his keys from the ignition and shoves his door open, jumping out and running to open mine before I’ve even registered his words or movements. “That doesn’t mean sit there like a lobster waiting to be boiled, Jessie.”
“Shut your face!” I laugh, unbuckling my seat belt and swinging my legs around the seat.
Holy shit, it’s a long way down from this thing.
Aidan rolls his eyes and steps forward, wrapping his arm around my waist. I squeak and grab his neck, holding him tightly as he lifts me smoothly from the truck. He sets me down on the ground, and with his right arm still firmly around me, he swings the door shut and presses the button on his key to lock it.
The lights flash, illuminating a sleek black car in orange as it pulls into the lot. Aidan ushers me toward the door of the restaurant a little faster than I can manage in these shoes. Maybe he didn’t understand my sarcasm about the marathon.
“What are you doing?”
“Trust me,” he repeats, looking at me with a smile that might just make my stomach flip. I purse my lips as the door is opened and he ushers me inside. “Wait here.”
My lips part as he leaves me standing by the host and disappears toward the bar in the back corner. The dimly lit restaurant obscures my view of him, meaning I definitely can’t try and lip-read the conversation he’s having with a suited man I assume is the manager. They nod their heads and shake hands, and I glare as Aidan comes back to me.
That smile is back on his face—the stomach-flipping one. The little spine-shivery one. The one I’m hating that I like. “Come on.”
“To where?”
He shrugs. “Somewhere you can wear your Spanx and no shoes.”
I frown, and he takes my hand when I don’t move. “Are we supposed to be here?” I ask when he pulls me through the door marked STAFF.
“I told you to trust me. I promise I ain’t gonna kill you and bury you in the woods.”
“Oh, now I’m convinced to trust you.” I roll my eyes. “Just so you know, the heels on my shoes are real sharp, and I’m not afraid to use them as a weapon.”
His eyes glimmer with laughter. “Noted, sunshine.”
“That nickname really pisses me off.”
“I know,” Aidan whispers, leaning in so his breath flutters across my cheek. “But I have to admit, I love the irony of it.”
“Because I’m such a ragey bitch?”
He pushes open the back door of the restaurant, where a car is waiting. A tall, built guy is holding the door for us, his hair trimmed short and the sharp planes of his face illuminated by the restaurant’s security light.
Aidan grins, walking backward toward the car. “You call it ragey, I call it sexy. It’s all in the eye of the beholder, baby.”
“You’re crazy.” I shake my head, fighting my smile, because his is just so damn infectious.
“Ajax,” Aidan greets the man. “That was quick.”
“It’s why you pay me,” he replies with a quirk of his lips.
“Jessie, this is Ajax, the head of our security. And the guy inside the car is Carlos,” Aidan says, handing Ajax his truck keys.
“Miss Jessie,” Ajax takes my hand and kisses it softly.
“Hey,” Aidan says. “You’re gonna show me up in the gentleman department.”
“Yeah?” Ajax drawls. “How’s that workin’ out for him?” he asks, looking at me.
“Kind of rough. He might need some etiquette lessons,” I reply, cutting my eyes to Aidan. “On second thought, he definitely needs some. A real gentleman would never look at a lady like he wants to haul her off over his shoulder caveman-style.”
Ajax laughs as I get into the car. Aidan follows, sliding across the seat until his side is pressed against mine, and he slips his hand between my thighs. “On the contrary,” he murmurs into my ear, the low husky tone of his voice making my heart thump loudly. “A real gentleman absolutely would haul his lady off over his shoulder—and he’d smack her ass for good measure, too.”
“Are you threatening me?” I turn my face to his and inhale when his breath ghosts over my lips.
“Promising.”
“There’s a difference?”
“A real big difference.” He creeps his fingers up the inside of my thigh.
I shiver at his touch. The tremors that creep across my skin slowly are white hot, and I can almost feel my body being smothered at his insinuation—and damn it all, my body wants to know exactly what the difference between a threat and a promise is. What his difference is.
“Did you just call me your lady?” I raise an eyebrow, removing his hand from its all-too-warm-and-comfortable resting place.
“Fuck no. I don’t have to be in Mensa to know you belong to no one but yourself, sunshine.” He brushes his fingertips across my jaw and turns me to face him. My eyes flutter shut, but I force them open and make myself meet his unwavering gaze. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a part of me that kind of wants to make you mine. Just to see if you’ll break.”
“Theoretically, of course.” My words are whispers, so I clear my throat. “Right?”
“Absolutely,” he agrees. “Theoretically. If there were a single part of me that wanted this relationship to be real.”
“It’s always a pleasure to know we’re on the same wavelength.”
“So we’re agreed that sex is on the table tonight?”
“Wait, what? I don’t remember agreeing to sex. Ever.”
“Ever, huh?” His eyebrow curves slowly. Sexily.
“Except that one time. One time, Aidan.” I hold my finger up between us as his lips move to the side in a knowing smirk. “I agreed to be your girlfriend in public, and that didn’t include your fuck buddy in private.”
“Can we put sex on the table?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because in case it escaped your notice, I was drunk when I had sex with you. More drunk than I should have been.” I sniff and fold my arms. “So the only way you’re getting me to have sex with you is by getting me drunker than I was then.”
The car comes to a stop and Aidan leans over me, pushing my door open. He unbuckles the seat belt from my hip and I take it from him before he can remove it from across my body, because, you know, I can do that. And maybe because I feel bad for telling him I’d never sleep with him unless I’m drunk.
Who the hell am I kidding? I’m female. All he’s gotta do is slip his hand between my legs again and tickle my thigh like he just was and there’s a 90 percent chance I’m going to mount him.
Apparently hormones are stronger than common sense.
He gets out of the car, cutting a dull figure as he does. Guilt slithers through me, so I swing my legs out after him, tug my dress down, and hesitate.
“Wait,” I say as he walks in front of me, illuminating the bitty ground of the woods with his phone screen. The harshness of my words really do hit me, and I bend down to pull off my heels so they don’t sink, like the simple act of covering my stomach will absorb the impact of my own bitchiness.
He turns, flashing his light at my feet. “You want my shoes?”
“What for?”
“To get to my truck.”
I’m not even going to ask how that got here. “I’m a country girl, Ads. I’d rather have mud between my toes than a stiletto blister on my heel any day of the week.”
I can’t see his grin in the dark as he walks to the truck cab and turns his key so the light comes on, but I can feel it. Hear it. I don’t know how it’s possible, but it’s almost as if the upturn of his lips is a jingle—like the ones in Christmas commercials. The cheesy, dumb ones that you always want to turn off but find yourself humming when you’re in the shower.
That’s it.
His smile is a Christmas jingle. No matter how hard you try to ignore it, you just can’t get it out of your head.
“Here.” Aidan pulls the tailgate down and pats it.
I set my heels down on the truck bed and narrow my eyes. Pillows, blankets, all thrown in haphazardly, like Sof’s daughter Mila tried to make a blanket fort but gave up after hauling everything up here. “What is this?”
He sighs. “This is our first ‘date.’ ” He grasps my waist, his fingers stroking my sides as he gets his grip right and lifts me until I’m sitting on the tailgate, my legs swinging beneath me.
“I don’t understand,” I say softly, pushing my bangs from my eyes and looking at him.
He shrugs before pulling himself up next to me. He gets to his feet and walks across the truck bed until he reaches the back, then drops down among one half of the pillows. “I’m an asshole, Jessie.” He looks at me slowly. “I’m not Prince fuckin’ Charming and I ain’t ever gonna pretend to be. Except for maybe that one time in the café.”
I fight my smile.
“But I’m not so much of an asshole that I’ll make you do shit you don’t wanna do. Jesus, baby, you don’t wanna dress up in fancy shit for a fancy meal you’re gonna hate every second of, then don’t do it. It’s just that simple. If you’d rather have pizza and wear yoga pants, then we’ll do that for our fake date. But I draw the line at shitty rom coms.”
My heart thaws toward him. Just a little. “Then why didn’t you ask me if I was okay with it? The fancy meal.”
“Because I’m a guy, and my default is ‘presumptuous bastard.’ ”
I look at him and smile, turning my whole body toward him. I want to agree with him—tell him he’s right. He is a presumptuous bastard. That a bunch of red roses and a dinner summons isn’t the way to make me even want to pretend to be his girlfriend. And that’s exactly what I say.
He tilts his head, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, revealing what seems like barely-there outlines of small tattoos curving across the top of his chest. “Red roses, huh? How’d you like those?”
“That sounds awfully like you don’t know what flowers you sent me.” I raise an eyebrow.
“There’s a chance I may not know the difference between roses and daisies and enlisted some help.”
“Basically, you asked Ella.” A smile threatens as he pauses, taken off guard. “It’s okay. Whatever. But, um . . . I’m sorry.”
He turns to me slowly. “Did you drink before you came out?”
Ignoring him, I continue. “For what I said. Just then. About having to be drunk to sleep with you. That was uncalled for.”
“Don’t sweat it, sunshine. You could have said ‘blind.’ Or ‘stupid.’ Or ‘dead.’ ”
I swallow my laugh and crawl up the truck.
“Totally just saw right down your dress.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, tugging my dress up and down at the same time as I settle into a corner and reach for a blanket. The radio is playing quietly as I pull the cover over my legs, making it pool around my waist, and lean back to look at him. He rolls his head to face me as I pick at a loose thread on the corner of my blanket. “I wouldn’t have to be drunk to sleep with you. Or not as drunk as I just made out. At all. I mean, it wasn’t bad. Sleeping with you, that is. Being drunk is always bad, especially the next day. Sleeping with you was good.”
“Just good?”
“Oh shit.” I run my hand down my face. “I’m just saying I wouldn’t need to be drunk, okay? Just maybe tipsy. Or merry. Or happy. Or high on sugar or something. I can think of worse things is what I think I’m trying to say. Oh my God, why am I allowed to talk? Why has my voice not been taken away?” I clap my hand over my mouth, but remove it instantly. “I need to shut up. Like, now. Because I’ve already made a total ass of myself. Like, ten times over. Holy—”
He’s leaning over me, grinning, white shirt tight and straining across his shoulders and upper arms. One hand is gripping the side of the truck bed and the other is coming up to cup my chin and tilt my face up until our mouths are a breath apart and I don’t know how to breathe that breath or think or move or breathe or move or breathe.
“Jessie,” he whispers, so much in my name. So much, but just nothing. So much nothing but so much everything. “Shut up.”
“Okay,” I squeak, because that breath of space becomes a nothing of space, and the only thing I know is the firm press of his lips covering mine and his fingertips holding my jaw.
This kiss wasn’t meant to happen—not like this, just us two, in I don’t even know where, in the back of his truck with the radio buzzing quietly, pillows and blankets surrounding us and the stars blinking through the trees.
It was supposed to be a forced kiss in front of cameras.
Not one that feels kind of real with no one but the darkness as a witness.
But, for the life of me, as his hand curves around the back of my neck and I clutch his shirt in my hands, I can’t bear to pull away. As warmth and desire and the unrelenting feeling of being wanted for just a split second worms its way through my body in a sensation so strong it could easily become addictive, there’s nothing I want to do more than sit here in the back of his truck like a couple from a part-swoony, part-corny country song, and let Aidan Burke kiss me until he gives me back the breath he just stole.
“Getting another tattoo is not the way to deal with this situation,” Chelsey grumbles, flicking through a magazine in the corner of the room.
The needle buzzes as Jay inks across my upper arm, coloring my latest addition in a shade of bright pink. He snorts quietly, more a cough than anything, and wipes my arm. I glance at him, bleached-blond short hair, tattoos covering every inch of his exposed skin, and a stretching plug in his ear. Behind him, the walls of his tattoo room are covered in designs from the cute to the elaborate yet terrifying you’ll-be-here-all-week tattoos. Some photos are immediately above his desk, and each of these features one of his favorites. I’m up there with my sleeve, the colors standing out from the mostly black-and-white creations.
“It doesn’t count if it’s just coloring in,” I argue. “The tattoo has already been done. It can’t all be done at once. Besides, flowers need color.”
“And you, my friend, need psychiatric help.” She shuts the magazine with a sigh as Jay chuckles. “Girl, sticking a needle into yourself over and over is not the way to deal with your issues.”
“It’s worked pretty well for her so far,” Jay offers, still inking me.
“Yes, Mr. Tattoo Man, thank you,” she sighs again. “Jessie, seriously. You can’t just run here whenever you have something you need to deal with. You can’t hide behind a needle forever.”
“Chels, you’re implying I have issues I need to work through. I don’t, not right now. This appointment was booked when I finished the outline, okay?” Or, you know, I called this morning on the off chance my favorite tattooist would have a cancelation.
“Of course.” Pages swish as she flicks through the magazine I’ve now determined to be Vogue. “Nothing to do with your date that wasn’t a date last night.”
“Date that wasn’t a date?” Jay questions. “Why didn’t you mention this? I’d have fit you in earlier.”
“Ha!” Chelsey slams the magazine against her legs. “I knew you were lying with that prebooked appointment shit!”
I glare at her. “It doesn’t matter,” I tell Jay. “It wasn’t a date.”
No matter how much it felt like one. Or that I can still feel Aidan’s lips pressing against mine, his tongue tracing my lower lip, his fingers burning into the skin at the back of my neck or twining themselves into my hair.
Seriously.
It wasn’t a date.
I don’t care what anyone—or I—say. It. Wasn’t. A. Date. It couldn’t have been further from one.
But if this was real and that was our first date, I’d probably be in love with him already.
It wasn’t, though, so I’m not.
“Jessie, you both bailed on dinner and gave the photographers the slip, then you hung out in his truck for like three hours.” Chels sighs. “That’s a date, girl. A real date.”
It’s a good thing I never mentioned the making out. “No. It’s the avoidance of a real date. That’s totally different.”
“No.”
“Leave it alone, Chels!” I snap. “Stop trying to convince me it was a real date. It wasn’t. I can’t stand him and you know it. It’s a real date when I actually want to be within ten feet of him. Hell, it’s a real date when I say it’s a real date.”
“I’m with her.”
I turn my head at the sound of Aidan’s voice cutting through the quiet buzz of the tattoo needle. “Um, hi?”
“Hey.” Aidan’s mouth curves into a grin. “Your dad said you were here. I tried to call . . .”
“Is this your date that wasn’t a date?” Jay asks, glancing up momentarily.
“Shut up,” I hiss before turning back to Aidan. “What’s up?”
“There are some things a guy just can’t say around his fake girlfriend’s friends.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’m sure that’s it. More like you don’t want to look like a giant butthead when you need me all doe-eyed and hanging on your arm for some event.”
“Well, when you put it that way . . .”
“Oh my God,” Chelsey mutters, then looks at him. “It is, isn’t it? You’re going to ask her to be your bitch for an evening again.”
“Oh yeah. I even got her a collar and leash. Although it probably won’t be used in the traditional way.” He grins widely when her jaw drops.
“All right, all right, you two,” I interrupt, ignoring the flaming of my cheeks. “You,” I point at Aidan with my free arm. “Outside. Use that leash and tie yourself to a fire hydrant or something. I’m almost done. And you,” I turn to my best friend, “I love you, but I know what I’m doing.”
“No, you think you do. What you’re doing is making a giant fool of yourself.” She sniffs and gets up. “I’ll call you later when there isn’t a big man with abs and tattoos standing in front of you making your brain go gaga.”
She flounces out of the room, swinging the door shut behind her so harshly it almost hits Aidan in the face.
“Wow. And I thought you had a temper,” he remarks with a chuckle.
Jay laughs behind me, killing the tattoo gun and wiping across my arm. “They both have tempers. Jessie just sticks a needle in her skin instead of slamming doors the way Chelsey does.”
“She’s thrown a pot of ink at you before,” I remind him as he wraps my arm in plastic wrap.
“Oh yeah. You should reconsider bringing her in when you get work done.”
“I’m starting to agree with you,” I muse, stretching my arm and getting the blood flowing back through it. My skin tingles and I glance up at Aidan. “What?”
“Can I see?” He nods toward my arm.
“Didn’t I tell you to go to leash yourself to a fire hydrant?”
“The day I do something a woman tells me to will be the day I fall in love, sunshine.” He smirks. “Especially when tying is involved. Although, I will concede that if you and bed were used in the place of me and fire hydrant, I’d be tempted to do as I’m told.”
“The day I tell you to do that, you have my full permission to call the local hospital and commit me for psychiatric evaluation.” I hold my arm out for him, ignoring the sizzle that trails across my skin when he gently takes my arm in his hand and studies the coloring.
“This is amazing,” he says softly after a long moment. His thumb trails across the leaf coming down from my snapdragon, slowly, much more intimately than it should. “Have you done it all?” he directs the question to Jay.
“Yep. Did her first on her eighteenth birthday and I’m allowed to shoot her if she goes anywhere else.”
“With a Nerf gun, Jay.” I smile.
He looks at me, blond eyebrows rising, lips curving. “That’s what you think, darlin’.”
“Sure it is.” My smile widens as I follow him out of the room and into the reception area with Aidan on my heels. “Here.” I hand Jay my card over the counter and scribble on the receipt when he hands it to me. “I’ll call you when I’m ready for another.”
“See you in two weeks.”
“Cocky bastard.” I laugh, opening the door to the tattoo parlor and scooting through it.
Aidan grabs the door behind me and throws a wave over his shoulder to Jay as he follows me out onto the sidewalk. “I think he has a crush on you.”
I cough through my snort and glance at him. “Why the hell would you think that?”
He shrugs. “I’m a guy. I can just tell.”
“Are you jealous?”
“Why would I be jealous?”
“Why would you suggest such a dumb thing if you aren’t?”