Fabricating Jada

by Marie, Vanessa

As soon as I took a good look at his build and the way he held himself, with his wide shoulders and tapered waist, before he even lifted his head, I knew who it was. As if the commotion in the store wasn't enough of a hint, the whispers and snaps of cell phone cameras were enough to announce his presence.

  Jesse was here.

  His eyes met mine in a heated glare as jerk-off-James blabbered on about how much he loved Jesse's shop and show. Jesse ignored him. His focus was solely on me. I dropped my gaze from his and rang up the kit. Ignoring him, I looked at the jerk-off. "Your total is thirty-four, twelve."

  The guy's mouth fell open, like he couldn't believe I wasn't addressing the elephant in the room. Little did he know I wanted to punch the elephant in the giggle berries.

  "Do you know who he is?" he hissed and pointed at Jesse. Who was standing a foot from him. Who could hear everything this moron was saying and who could very well speak for himself.

  I lifted a brow in annoyance, refusing to even look in Jesse's direction and repeated his total. "Your total is thirty-four, twelve."

  "Of course you don't know who he is. Why would you? It's not like you know anything, anyway," he spat and shoved his card across the counter.

  My nostrils flared in defiance. That was it. I'd had enough of his crap. Just as I was about to tear into him, Jesse cut me off. "Why are you here?" he demanded.

  "That's exactly what I've been wondering," the jerk muttered next to him.

  Jesse whipped his head to the guy, turning his murderous glare on him. "Shut the fuck up."

  All the color drained from his face, giving me an ounce of satisfaction. The smirk fell from my face as Jesse turned his attention back to me and repeated himself. "Why are you here?"

  It was like it was the only question he ever knew how to ask me.

  "I work here," I deadpanned.

  He growled at me. The growl that made the hair on my arms stand on end and my insides turn to jelly. "Enough of the bullshit, Jada. Why weren't you at the shop this morning?"

  Holy crap. He really did know my name. It wasn’t a fluke.

  I folded my arms over my chest and returned his glare. "You made yourself perfectly clear the last time I saw you."

  Jesse's head shook from side to side. Barely moving, but I knew he did it when he was frustrated. I knew, because he did it every time I was around. "And you're going to quit because of that? How many times have we gotten into it?"

  "Every second from the moment I met you."

  His lips twisted into a hint of a smile. "Exactly. So why would you listen to me now?"

  "Wait a sec-second … You know him? You know Jesse Valentine?" Jerk face-Jones cut in.

  It was my turn to shoot him a murderous glare. "No. I don’t."

  Confusion swept over his face.

  Jesse's brows drew together, too.

  Paul, my boss picked that moment to walk over, star struck.

  "Hi, Mr. Valentine. Welcome to Auto Depot. If Jada isn't able to help you find what you need, I'm sure I can."

  Jesse's jaw locked, the hard angle more pronounced. I visibly noticed Paul's posture shrink back under the heated glare. "You're a fucking idiot and she quits."

  I balked. "I can't quit, Jesse!"

  His eyes softened. "You just did. Let's go," he grabbed my good hand and pulled me around the counter and toward the door.

  We had a full audience. Everyone had their cell phones out, taping us I'm sure. I pulled myself to a stop. "Jesse!" I shrieked.

  He turned to face me and gave the look that said it wasn't time to put up a fight. "Jane," he warned, the tone low and raspy, making my lady parts come alive.

  My lips pulled up into a smirk.

  "Uh, her name isn't Jane," Paul said from behind the safety of the counter, as if he was defending my honor after tearing me down a moment before.

  We yelled in unison. "I know what her fucking name is!"

  "He knows what my name is!"

  I stalked back to the counter, making Paul retreat further and grabbed my backpack from beneath it. As soon as I was close enough to him, Jesse claimed my hand again and tugged. I followed him out of the store to his truck. He pressed a hidden button behind the flat black cab of the 1954 five-window pickup and the passenger door, complete with shaved handles, popped open. I climbed in and reached across to open his door. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

  People were already making a small crowd as he got in and started the engine. It roared to life, the big block rumbling and exhaust growling as he peeled out of the parking lot.

  "I can't believe you just made me quit."

  He shot me a quick glance as his left leg moved to depress the clutch, and he slammed the gear shift into third. "I didn't make you do anything you didn't already want to do."

  I scoffed. Maybe there was a kernel of truth to it, but I wouldn't have actually walked out like that. "Maybe, but I can't afford to quit, Jesse. I have people depending on me."

  "I know, but don't you think your parents would benefit more if you actually made something of yourself instead of staying in that shit hole, making minimum wage and being treated like trash?"

  That made me snort. The kind of snort I wasn't embarrassed to make, even around him.

  "What's funny about that?" he asked and cut his eyes to mine for a beat.

  "The irony of it. You treat me like crap on a daily basis but don't like it when someone else does?”

  A low growl escaped his throat. "The difference is, you don't take my shit. You fight back. You stand up for yourself. What I saw in there, the way that asshole spoke to you, the way that other asshole spoke about you—you did nothing."

  I watched out the window as he merged onto the 405 heading back toward Anaheim. "I thought my fighting back was what you hated most about me."

  "It's what I love most about you," he replied, not missing a beat.

  My head whipped in his direction. Did he just say that? I had to have heard him wrong. "What?"

  "I want you to come work for me."

  My mouth fell open in shock. "You what?"

  "Why do you make me repeat everything I say to you?"

  I rolled my eyes and forced my mouth closed. "Because I wasn't sure if what I heard is what you said."

  Jesse cut his eyes to mine and gave me a look that screamed seriously? "I want you to finish the class and then I want you to work at the shop when you're not in class. You can apprentice under whoever you want."

  Work under him. The little girl inside me giggled. "Even you?" I asked, hopeful, pushing away my dirty thoughts.

  He gave a slight shake to his head. "Anyone, but me."

  My heart sank. Even after all of this, he still didn't want to work with me. I had to ask. "Why?"

  "It's just not a good idea. Miguel already said he'd be happy to take you under his wing."

  I'd hoped he'd look my way again, but he didn't … he kept his eyes on the road as the engine roared, drowning out the silence.

  Maybe he hadn't meant to say he loved something about me. Maybe I was reading too much into it all. And maybe he'd have done it for anyone in the class, but deep down I knew it wasn't the case. He'd come for me. But I had no idea what it all meant.

  When we got to the shop, everyone was at lunch. I figured I'd just hang out in the section of the shop we'd been working in. That was until Jesse threw a giant wrench into my plan.

  "This way," he commanded and bent two fingers at me to follow him.

  Instead of taking the turn where I usually did to go to DeAnna's office, we walked past it and out into the main shop area. His stride was quick, and I had to practically sprint behind him to keep up. I mean, his legs were probably twice the length of my stubs, but my focus had been on his perfect round behind. I had to force my eyes off of that fabulous bottom that was at eye level as he climbed a metal stair case. I had no clue where we were going.

  At the top of the stairs, he shoved open a heavy door to reveal an office. It was meticulous. Masculine with dar
k woods and leather. Framed magazine articles and posters covered the walls. The top of the mahogany desk was pristine, not a thing looked like it was out of place. And it smelled like vanilla mixed with grease. What the hell? What is with him and the girly smells?

  "Sit," he growled and pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk as he sat down in the oversized leather chair behind it.

  I did what he said without argument, for the first time since I met him. Jesse dug through the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a stack of paperwork, tossing it across the desk to me. "Fill these out."

  My brows pulled together in confusion as I glanced from him to the stack of paperwork. "Uh, what are they?"

  "An application, W2 form, insurance paperwork—all the usual new hire shit."

  My mouth fell open. The usual new hire stuff? As in, this was really happening? I reached forward and picked up the forms, looking at them one by one. "So, you were serious? About me working here?" I lifted my eyes to his.

  His gaze darted to mine and narrowed. "Yes. We start at seven and work until seven, unless there's a project going on and we're under deadline."

  Seven? That was twelve hour days. Quickly, I tried to do the math of what it would cost me in bus fare and winced. That meant I would have to get up at four to get on a five o'clock bus. They didn't have a five o'clock bus for my route. I sank back in my chair as the realization that the greatest opportunity I'd ever been offered would be squandered due to my lack of transportation and being broke.

  "What's wrong, Jane? That too early for you?"

  Shaking my head, I tried to get my emotions in check as heat crept up my neck and spread across my face. "No. It's just there's no bus that early to get me here in time." I dropped my chin to my chest, embarrassed.

  Jesse's chair squeaked as he leaned back and folded his arms over his rock hard abs. How did I know they were rock hard? I could tell by the way his gray T-shirt clung to them. "And you can't afford a car because all of your money goes to your parents?"

  I flicked my eyes up to meet his, which were staring at me with scrutiny. I was surprised he remembered what I'd yelled at him the first time we met. "Yes."

  "How long is the bus ride to get here?"

  "About two hours depending on traffic."

  His forehead creased as his brows pulled together, the usual frown he wore deepened. "Shouldn't that only be about a forty minute trip?"

  It was hard not to roll my eyes. "If I didn't have to ride the city bus to the Greyhound station and then get on another bus once I got to Anaheim and then transfer to another to get here … yeah, it would."

  Jesse scratched the back of his neck. A weird emotion passed in his eyes that I couldn't place. Once he blinked it was gone. I hated I couldn't read him.

  "Then you just need to move here." He said it as if it was a simple thing to do.

  I scoffed. And then snorted. And then burst into uncontrollable laughter. I was showing my craziness. "Sure. I'll do just that."

  He leaned forward, resting his arms on the top of his desk. "I'm being serious."

  I shot him an are-you-stupid-or-did-you-get-hit-in-the-head kind of look. "I can't move."

  "Why not?"

  I ground my teeth not really wanting to admit the truth. But from the look on his face he wasn't going to let it go until I gave him something more substantial. "For starters, I don't have the money to do anything, let alone move. Riding the bus here every day is already costing me a small fortune and by the time the class is over, I won't have two pennies to rub together. I also have nowhere to go here, since I know no one and I'm pretty sure anything over a cardboard box would be out of my price range."

  It all sounded like a woe-is-me sob story, but it was all the truth. A hard truth I hated to face. It was easy enough to live without staring too hard at my life, but when I broke it down like I just had, it was like a knife to the gut.

  Jesse sank back in his chair and looked at the ceiling with his hands folded behind his head. "Do you want this or not?"

  "You know I do."

  "Then it's settled. You'll move in with me and stay in one of the spare rooms. I can give you a lift in the mornings if you're ready when I am … If not you can catch the city bus in."

  Move in with him? That escalated quickly. I flushed everywhere. And I mean everywhere. The heat flowing through my body should have been illegal.

  "I, uh … What? No." I stammered, not able to keep my mind from wandering or thinking about what it would be like being in his house. Recalling the feel of his lips on mine as he had me caged in on his bathroom counter.

  "Yes. It solves your issues. I don't see what the problem is." Jesse looked at me like I was stupid. Making this harder than it needed to be.

  I scoffed. "The problem is I don't even know you. How is moving in with a stranger a good idea? I could be crazy for all you know."

  Jesse snorted. "Oh, I already know you're crazy."

  I narrowed my eyes into slits and locked my jaw. "What is it you like to say? It's not a good idea."

  "It is a good idea. It's the perfect idea and you're just trying to be difficult, as always."

  Throwing my hands in the air, my nostrils flared in frustration. "I am not! How do I know if you walk around your house naked? Or if some biker bunny is going to end up in my room in the middle of the night? And big parties aren't really my thing—I don't want to live somewhere that's akin to a frat house."

  His mouth tugged into a mischievous smile. One that screamed trouble. "So you're already thinking about me naked are you?"

  "Oh, my gosh. No, I'm not!" Liar. Liar, liar! I totally was. And I prayed my face didn't betray me.

  "You are. And don't you think the rest of your assumptions are a little presumptuous?" He lifted a dark brow.

  I folded my arms over my chest with a huff. "No, I don't. I saw how out of control one of your parties can be. Lord only knows what kind of women you parade around."

  He leaned forward on his desk. "You mean the party you weren't at?"

  My brows knitted together. "What?"

  "You told the old timer in the class you weren't at my party."

  I thought back to the conversation I'd had with Pete. I had said that. And that meant Jesse had heard me. "Well, as far as anyone knows, I wasn't there."

  "Why? Why would you care if they did?"

  Heat flushed my face, remembering everything that happened in his bathroom. I closed my eyes, too embarrassed to look at him. "It doesn't matter."

  Jesse moved to the front of his desk and leaned against it. Right in front of me. There was nowhere left to hide. "It does to me. Why would you tell him you weren't there? Why wouldn't you tell the kid on the bus that you know me?"

  He knew about Quinten? Dang-it, DeAnna. I peeked one eye open at him, and the look on his face was icy and closed off. As if he was afraid of my answer. I blew out a breath and went for the truth. In a situation like this, it seemed like the right thing to do. "Because I'm not interested in exploiting you. I'm not going to tell everyone I see that I know you, because I really don't. I've met you, yes, and I see you on a daily basis, but it's not really something I want to write home about. I don't know you."

  He moved quickly. His hands clamped down on each one of the arm rests, caging me in my chair. With his face only inches from mine.

  My eyes darted to his lips before I forced myself to meet his eyes. Which were smoldering. "Why didn't you tell Pete you were at the party?"

  I sucked in a sharp breath. The scent of coconut, which I now knew was his shampoo crashed around me, putting my senses on high alert. "It wasn't any of his business."

  "Most girls would have told everyone. Posted all over their social media. But you ran and denied ever being there. Why?" His gaze darted to my lips.

  Everything in my body was on high alert. My lady parts were screaming for attention. The traitors.

  "Because I'm not that girl. DeAnna said she was trying to reshape your image from man whore to refor
med playboy, so why would I screw up her hard work? Besides, I'm already a joke. Do you really think I want everyone thinking I slept with you and that's the only reason I'm here?" I snorted to myself and rolled my eyes. "Well, most of them think that already, including your cousin. I didn't want to make it worse."

  His expression softened. "So you were trying to protect me?"

  "And myself."

  Without warning his mouth crashed against mine. I pulled him closer, by the neck and dug my fingers into his hair. It was nothing like the first time he'd kissed me. This time was frenzied. He nibbled and tugged on my bottom lip before our tongues crashed together in a heated dance.

  A knock on his closed door, forced him to pull away and mutter. "Goddammit."

  Jesse sat back against the front of his desk, ran his hands through his hair, and folded his arms over his broad chest. The same chest that was expanding and contracting rapidly from breathing so hard. I chewed on my bottom lip and looked everywhere but at him. There was no doubt my face was bright pink and screamed guilty.

  The knock came again.

  "What?" Jesse snapped.

  Miguel popped his head in the office and was met with Jesse's murderous glare. "Hey, man. I saw your truck was back and wanted to see—" he paused. He must have noticed me sitting in the chair, but I refused to turn in his direction. I couldn't. My facial expression would have screamed I'm a dirty, dirty hooker.

  "We're working it out," Jesse snapped.

  "Well if that's the kind of mood you're in to work it out, I'd be afraid of you too. Good luck, Valley Girl."

  It was too much. That kiss shouldn't have happened. I had no idea what I was doing but it seemed like everything was spinning out of control too fast. My instinct to flee kicked in, and I stood abruptly. "I should go."

  "No," Jesse snapped in that low, gravely tone.

  "Sorry, but I can't stay." I refused to meet his eyes as I stepped past him, grabbing my backpack on the way out of the room. I couldn't meet Miguel's eyes as I darted past him.

  "What the fuck did you do?" Miguel snapped at Jesse. It was the first time I'd ever heard him get upset, and even if I wanted to stay and listen to them argue, I couldn't.