That Guy

by Kim Jones

  I do it again.

  He’s not impressed.

  He stares at me like I’m stupid until I compose myself, wipe the smile from my face and nod. “Got it.”

  “Don’t answer any personal questions about us. When someone asks, and they will, how you know me, just keep it simple by saying we’re old friends. If they pressure you for more, politely excuse yourself. Don’t give anyone your real last name. If someone asks, say Smith. Or Jones—“

  “How about Swagger?”

  “Penelope….”

  “Okay, fine. What else?”

  “Steer clear of my grandfather. Hopefully, he’ll be too busy with everyone else to have much time to corner you, but I can’t promise he won’t make time. He’s curious about you, for some fucking reason.” Jake’s brow furrows in thought as he mindlessly tucks a tendril of hair back from my face.

  “Is that all?” I’m a little breathless and he must notice.

  He pulls his hand back and locks his gaze on mine. “This party is important. So I need you to rein in the crazy a little bit. Can you do that? Please?”

  I beam. “Look at you. Sayin’ please and shit.”

  “Don’t say that either.”

  “What?”

  “And shit.”

  “You really need to work on your southern accent.”

  “Well, I don’t have the best teacher.”

  “Fine. No and shit’s. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. Can you dance?”

  I do my river dance again.

  He pinches the bridge of his nose.

  “Hey….” I pull his hand away from his face. “I’m kidding. I assume you mean ballroom dance. And yes. I can do that. Among other dances. Like the tango. The electric slide. The watermelon crawl—“

  “I get it. Do you have any questions for me?”

  “Yep. What exactly is it that you do for a living?”

  He seems surprised. “You don’t know?”

  “I know you’re the CEO of Swagger Corp, but I have no clue what that is.”

  “Do people in Mississippi not pay attention to the stock market? Nasdaq? Dow? You ever heard of that?”

  “I’ve heard of it,” I snap, glaring at him. “Are you going to tell me what you do or not?”

  “I’m a venture capitalist.”

  “Like on the movie Wedding Crashers?”

  “I invest in more than shirts and pants, Penelope.”

  “So you put money into people’s ideas?”

  “Sometimes. But I prefer to buy them out so I have complete control. If that’s not an option and it’s something I can’t walk away from, I’ll settle for fifty-one percent ownership.”

  Fitting. Considering he such a damn control freak.

  “Have you ever been on Shark Tank?”

  “No.”

  Of course he can’t be That Guy and a T.V. star. “Figures…”

  “Why does that…figure?”

  “No reason. You know,” I turn my head to the side and study him, “I had you pegged as a corporate merger. Like in Pretty Woman.”

  He gives me a tight smile. “That would be my grandfather. Whose party we’re already going to be late getting to. You ready?”

  “I’m not gonna get any prettier.”

  “Figures…” He grins proudly at the opportunity to throw my words back at me.

  I roll my eyes. “Aren’t you easily amused.”

  With my matching gold clutch tucked away under my arm, I follow him into the foyer. He presses the button for the elevator—eyeing me as we wait. He looks…curious.

  “What?”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t Google me.”

  “Did you Google me?”

  “Yes.”

  I beam at his short response. “You did? What did it say?”

  “Not sure. I got tired of searching after page four.”

  My smile turns to a scowl. “That’s pretty cocky coming from a guy who has to buy people’s ideas because he’s not clever enough to come up with his own.”

  Surprisingly, he laughs. I’m so taken back by it, I don’t even notice the elevator has arrived. He has to grab my arm and pull me inside before the doors close.

  And in the tight space, our close proximity gives me something I’ve been searching for since I first saw him.

  His scent.

  Have mercy.

  I’m like a damn bloodhound.

  Seriously.

  My nose finds his shoulder and I inhale so deep I can taste the scent of him on the back of my throat. I keep it there instead of the corner of the elevator as we descend. My eyes fall closed and I hum my song—getting a nice whiff of him over and over.

  I’m not good at describing scents. I could never put a name to that distinct smell in blood until I read Twilight. Coppery. Metallic. Once Stephenie Meyer explained it to me, I wondered how in the Hell I had never figured it out.

  So really, the best I can give you is that he smells exactly like you think a rich, hot guy would smell. Like soap and cologne and man and clean and money. Oh, and some really nice fabric softener. I’m pretty sure that’s Downy.

  When we glide to a stop, I’m reluctant to pull away. As I do, I feel his eyes on me.

  “What?” I ask, not bothering to look up at him.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “I have a fear of elevators.”

  “Hmm.” Thankfully, it’s all he says.

  Alfred meets us at the lobby door. He hands a coat to Jake then holds open a white fur coat for me. I slip my arms inside and nearly come at the feel of it.

  “Is this real fur?”

  Jake lifts a brow. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  “No. I was just curious.”

  …As to how many innocent animals had do die just to keep me warm…

  We walk out into the blizzard and I’m thankful for all the rabbits or squirrels or whatever animal was sacrificed just for me. Ross holds open the back door of the car and Jake gestures for me to get in. I clamber inside, nearly ripping my dress and falling on my face, before I finally settle on the seat. Jake follows behind me. All grace and fluid.

  “So, are you nervous?” I lean closer and drop my voice. “You know…about me being fake Miss Sims?”

  “No.”

  “Because you have full confidence in me?”

  I’m so close, when he angles his head to look at me, his lips nearly touch my nose. “No.”

  “Well, you must be sure I can do the job.”

  “I’m sure I can fix whatever you fuck up.”

  I roll my eyes and lean back. “You know, since I’m doing you a favor, you could be a little nicer to me.”

  “I could put you on an overcrowded bus and ship you back to Mississippi, too.”

  “But you won’t. Because you need me. Don’t you?” I tease, giving his ribs a poke with my finger. He doesn’t flinch.

  “I don’t need you. I could always go alone.”

  “No you can’t.”

  “You sound pretty sure of that.”

  “I am. Cam told me.”

  “Cam has a big mouth,” he mutters, leaning forward to pour himself a drink. He doesn’t even offer me one.

  Rude.

  I snuggle up to his side and wrap one hand around his bicep and squeeze his thigh with the other. His arms stills. His glass several inches from his mouth. He doesn’t move his body, only cuts his eyes at me.

  “If I forget to tell you later, I had a really great time tonight.”

  His lips quirk like he wants to smile. But he doesn’t give in to it. “The night is young, Penelope. I wouldn’t thank me just yet. These people are sharks. They’ll chew a girl like you up and spit you out.” His features darken and his tone becomes serious. “If anyone makes you feel uncomfortable, just walk away and come find me. Understand?”

  I pull away from him. “I can handle myself. But, I promise, if I see an opening for a damsel-in-distress moment, you can bet your ass I’m going to seize it.�
�� I wink at him. But the truth is, I know I’m in over my head.

  These people aren’t like me. They’ll likely laugh at me. Tease me behind my back. Even to my face. But it’ll be me who gets the last laugh. That’s one of the perks of being a writer. You get to put mean people in a book.

  And then you get to kill them.

  Chapter Ten

  I’m not sure what I was expecting.

  A red carpet?

  Cameras flashing?

  People screaming my name?

  Crowd surfing to get a lock of my hair….

  Yes, to all of those things.

  No, to the boring ass entry that consists of us entering through the back and having to walk through the kitchen to get to the actual party.

  “So much for a grand entrance,” I mumble, handing my coat to a man who nods way too much.

  Does dude have a tic or something?

  I mean, why does he keep doing that?

  Then I notice the way he looks at Jake. Eyes all wide. Fingers fumbling. Words a jumbled mess.

  Oh.

  He’s star struck.

  Perhaps I should’ve Googled him….

  “Why did we come in through the back?”

  “Because this is the Jessie Swagger show. Not the Jake Swagger show.” For the first time, he seems genuinely humble. And embarrassed by, what I assume, is his fame.

  “It’s about to be the Penelope show when I bust a move on the dance floor.” Before I can do just that—bust a move—Jake grabs my elbow and presses his big body against mine.

  “Do that river dance shit again and I’ll lock you in the cooler.” His threat doesn’t hinder my good mood in the least.

  I wiggle my eyebrows at him. “So you can get naked and warm me with your body heat?” He just stares down at me. “What if I have a fever? You gonna check my temperature? With your big…thermometer?”

  That smile pulls at his lips again. And again, he doesn’t give in. He pulls away and straightens, offers his arm to me and thanks the coat guy in the only language he knows—a nod.

  I take a deep breath as Jake leads us out of the kitchen and down a wide hall. I can hear the music. The chatter. The laughs. The clink of glasses. My heart pounds harder against my chest.

  I’m both excited and nervous.

  More nervous than excited.

  I think.

  I don’t know.

  Shit.

  This is crazy.

  I’m here. At this super-rich party with all these super-rich people and I don’t own a fucking thing with a Prada label.

  I glance up at Jake.

  This majestic motherfucker….

  He’s in That Guy mode. He exudes confidence. Radiates power. Emits authority. There’s precision in his every step. Every breath is controlled. Too bad he’s not very intuitive or he would know I’m over here about to lose my shit.

  This is the part where all the heroines in the romance books “channel courage from this force of a man.” But they don’t explain how they do it. So I have no clue. I’m just trying everything—narrowing my eyes on him. Pressing my finger to my temple. Zapping his brain with my imaginary laser beams.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” He stops walking and looks down at me like I’m stupid. Which is exactly how I feel when I relax my face and eyes and lower my finger from my head.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a nervous fucking wreck…and shit,” I add, just to spite him. “We’re about to walk into the wolf’s den and you haven’t said a single thing that might boost my confidence.”

  “You were chanting some shit about calling the four corners. Which I wish I could say is out of the norm for you, but it’s not. So you can’t possibly be pissed at me for not giving you a pep talk.”

  “I was calling the four corners?”

  “Yes. Stop watching The Craft.”

  I toss that over in my head and nod. Maybe I know a little something, something about channeling power from heroes after all….

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re experiencing some kind of epiphany?” Jake’s confused expression makes him look quite boyish.

  “Because it worked.”

  “What worked?”

  I study him and nod thoughtfully. “Yep. It definitely worked. I learned how to channel your energy. You’re losing control. I’m gaining it.”

  Jake looks around to make sure we’re alone, then turns on me. He looks a little angry. Which I understand. But he doesn’t have to point his finger at me. “Get your shit together, Penelope. I mean it.”

  I slap his hand away and glare up at him. “Would it kill you to say something nice to me? How in the hell am I supposed to face the kind of people in that room if all you do is make me feel like the village idiot?”

  “Well, when you’re walking down the hall mumbling, light as a feather, stiff as a board, how else am I supposed to treat you?”

  Yeah. I get that.

  But I’ll drop dead before I admit it.

  I stand my ground and meet his glare head on. Pretty damn proud of myself for holding his gaze without wavering.

  “For fuck’s sake…” He runs his hand through his hair. Puts them on his hips. Looks down at me. Licks his bottom lip.

  He’s about to say something nice to me.

  Probably tell me I’m a vision.

  That he’s in love.

  That if this was the Jake Swagger show, he’d be proposing tonight. But he can’t because he respects his grandfather and all that bullshit.

  “It’s about time you showed up.”

  Fucking Cam.

  “Damn, Penelope.” His eyes move very, very appreciatively over my body. This is the first he’s seen me in my dress. And the way he looks at me is almost embarrassing. And I don’t really get embarrassed. Ever.

  He’s forgiven.

  And too fine in his black tux. Even though, like Jake, I’ve seen him wear a suit, he looks different in full formal. Hotter. Sexier. Maybe because he doesn’t have that CEO vibe.

  “If you’re finished eye fucking my date….” Jake’s agitation is evident. He wants me all for himself. I knew it.

  He’s forgiven too.

  Cam smirks. “For now. Save me a dance?”

  Give you my virginity….

  If I had it.

  But I don’t.

  I smile. “Of course.”

  Jake doesn’t bother to offer me his arm this time, he just grabs my hand and tugs me along beside him. I look back over my shoulder to find Cam ogling my ass. I almost throw a hip out swaying it for him.

  “Remember what I said, Penelope.”

  I let out a sigh and turn back to Jake. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Keep my shit together.”

  “No.” He’s thoughtful as he looks at me. His hand hovering on the handle of the door that will lead us into the party. “You find me if you need me.”

  “Geeze, Jake. Are these people humans or comic book villains? I mean, is fucking Lex Luthor on the other side of this door? The Joker? Shredder? Loki? And if Loki is here, is Thor here too? Not comic book Thor but the real Thor? As in, Chris Hemsworth?”

  His lips thin. “You watch way too much fucking T.V., you know that?”

  “And you’re way too paranoid. I’m from a small town in the south. We have snakes and bears and Bigfoot. I can handle some snotty rich people. Trust me.”

  “If you say so. Now, smile.”

  I smile.

  He smiles.

  I melt.

  He opens the door.

  We walk in and every eye in the room turns to us. We really should’ve just came through the front. I can’t imagine we would get any more attention if we had. People stop talking and turn toward us. Men straighten. Women all but foam at the mouth. Everyone seems to be waiting for the perfect opportunity to come say hello.

  It’s fucking weird.

  And the room is a little…blah. There is nothing fancy about this place other than the massive chandeliers. It’s just an ordinary hotel b
allroom. There’s not even a banner to congratulate ol’ Pee Paw.

  Poor hateful bastard.

  My eyes fall on a flash of flaming orange and I stumble a little. I want to stop and gawk, but Jake is steady in his steps—forcing me along beside him.

  “Jake.” I squeeze his hand. “Jake. Jake. Ja—“

  “You’re losing your shit, sweetheart,” he mutters around his smile.

  “Yeah. I know. Cause that’s Ed Sheeran. Like, right there.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Penelope. Don’t point.”

  “You think he’ll let me get a selfie?”

  “Pull yourself together.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  Fucking Ed Sheeran.

  Right. There.

  Jake pulls me closer and dips his head to my ear. “Keep it together and I swear I’ll make sure you meet him, get your tits signed, take a selfie—“

  “I want him to sing to me.”

  “Whatever you want. Just…chill the fuck out.”

  I nod. Pull in a breath. Force myself to look away from Ed, even though I’m sure he just waved at me.

  “Jake! How are you?”

  “Marvin, great seeing you here. Thanks for coming. This is Penelope.” I smile and nod at the old fart with the receding hairline who is blocking my line of sight to the stage. Jake continues to speak to him for a few minutes. Asking boring questions about family. Laughing at stupid jokes. I’m thankful when we move on, only to be stopped three steps later by someone else.

  “Good evening, Mr. Swagger.”

  “Tonight it’s just Jake, Charles.” He introduces me then nods to the woman next to Charles. “Stephanie. How are you liking The Windy City?”

  Flustered, Stephanie rambles a minute before concluding that she is enjoying the city. I’m introduced and don’t miss the heated stare from Charles. Or the look of hatred from Stephanie. If Jake notices, he’s unaffected.

  He’s the amiable prince.

  The charming investor.

  The fakest fucker in here.

  For the next half hour, it’s the same thing.

  Walk three steps.

  Stop.

  Introductions.

  Curious looks.

  Small talk.

  Repeat.

  I’m bored. I’m hungry too. Seems if I’m going to enjoy myself at this party, I’m going to have to strike out and do it on my own.