And that's when he made me the strangest offer.
Chapter 7
I stared at him from the passenger's seat. "Excuse me?"
"I'll pay you," he said. "A thousand bucks."
I felt myself swallow. A thousand dollars? In my world, that was a ton of money. And yet, I so didn't want to contemplate what he expected in return.
We were still in traffic, inching along behind the other vehicles. At the same time, my mind was racing a million miles a minute. He'd just asked me to be – in his own words – his "girlfriend" for the night.
What the hell?
It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was getting at. I considered how we met and what kind of impression he'd obviously gotten from that whole sordid scene.
I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to five. Part of me wanted to slap him. The other part reminded myself that he'd already done me a huge favor, several favors actually, including assaulting someone on my behalf.
Could I honestly blame him if he thought the worst of me?
No. I couldn’t.
And yet, I did.
My eyes were still shut when he said, "Is there a problem?"
I opened my eyes and turned my head in his direction. Traffic had stopped, and he was looking at me with that penetrating gaze of his.
His eyes were amazing, and I couldn’t help but think that if he hadn't just offered to buy me – or was it rent me? – for the night, I'd probably be falling under his spell, even now.
But I wasn't. "Thanks for the offer," I said, trying not to sound as insulted as I felt. "But I'm not for sale, actually."
He frowned. "I didn't think you were."
"Well, obviously you did, or you wouldn't've asked me that."
He leaned back against his seat. "Listen, I did a sorry job of phrasing it, but it's not what you think."
I gave him a dubious look. "Oh, really? Then what is it?"
He gave it some thought. "Protection."
I felt my eyebrows furrow. He was tall and muscular. And, as I'd seen firsthand, he could handle himself just fine. I asked, "Protection from what?"
"Say yes, and you'll see."
Now, that made me curious. But it wouldn’t change my decision. Even if I believed what he was saying – and I still wasn't sure that I did – I wasn't going to be anyone's date for money.
No. That was the kind of thing my mom did. And, as I constantly reminded myself, I wasn't my mom.
I said, "I can't take your money."
"Why not?" he asked.
How to explain? "Well," I began, "it sounds like you need a favor more than anything."
"And what if I do?"
"Then I can't charge you for it." I tried to smile. "I mean, you've already done me a ton of favors tonight, so I'm sure I owe you, not the other way around."
"No," he said. "You don't owe me anything."
I didn't bother hiding my disbelief. Thanks to me, he'd crashed a car, gotten into a fight, and had been nearly molested by my mom.
Of all these things, it was the crash that worried me the most. I was no car expert, but I did know that the damage would cost a lot more than a thousand dollars.
As if reading something in my expression, he said, "Stop thinking about it."
"About what?"
"Everything." His voice became deadly serious. "You don't owe me."
I sighed. "How can you say that?"
The car ahead of us started moving again, and he turned his attention back to the road.
As we inched forward, I gave our surroundings a worried glance. "What do you think the holdup is? I hope it's not an accident."
"Trust me, it's no accident."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I know what's ahead."
"What?" I asked.
"You'll see." He gave me a sideways glance. "Assuming you say yes."
"To what? Pretending to be your girlfriend?"
He gave a half-shrug. "Psycho-jealous girlfriend would be better."
In spite of everything, I had to laugh. "Okay, now I know you're joking."
"You think so, huh?"
"Honestly, I don't know what to think."
"What don't you get?"
He was still focused on the road, and I gave his profile a good, long look. He was beyond gorgeous and obviously rich. On top of that, he didn't look much older than I was. If I had to guess, I'd put his age at no older than thirty.
What was he? A trust fund baby or something?
When it came to female attention, he wouldn't need anyone to pretend anything. Probably girls would pay him, and not only with money.
I asked, "What's the catch?"
"It's complicated."
Yes. It definitely was – as I soon discovered for myself.
Chapter 8
The music was loud and jazzy, like something out of the 1920s. Around us, the place was jam-packed with expensive looking people. Some appeared to be around my own age while the vast majority looked at least a decade or two older.
Even before we walked in through the ornate front door, Jax had wrapped a protective arm around my waist and was now guiding us through the mass of society-types who were drinking and talking.
The whole scene was entirely surreal. Nearly all of the men wore tuxes, while the women wore a stunning array of cocktail dresses – some long, some short, but all fabulous in their own way.
I glanced down at my own outfit – the burgundy cocktail dress that I'd refused to give up. Thank goodness I had, or I'd be feeling seriously outclassed right about now.
I gave a silent scoff. Who was I kidding? I still felt outclassed. I was a fake girlfriend in a borrowed dress. I so didn't belong here, and stupid or not, I couldn't help but wonder if everyone knew.
As if reading my mind, Jax said in a low voice, "Hey, you're my girlfriend, remember?"
I tried to laugh. "So?"
"So if anyone gives you grief, I'll toss 'em out on their ass."
I gave him a sideways glance. "You wouldn’t really."
"Hell, I'd have to."
"Oh yeah?" I couldn’t help but smile. "Why?"
"Matter of honor." He gave me a sly wink. "Can't let them think I'm a pussy."
He was either joking or crazy. Aside from his impressive physique, there was something about the way he moved – so cocky and sure – that practically screamed he was no pushover.
And heaven help me, I liked it.
Around us, everyone seemed to know him. As we waded through the crowd, he exchanged quick greetings with at least a dozen people, all without stopping for anything resembling an actual conversation.
That was fine by me. I was so blown away by the mansion itself that I was nearly speechless. The place was three stories tall with big, elaborate windows and lights glittering from nearly every room.
Even before we'd entered, I'd realized that this wasn't your average house – and not only because of its size and beach-front location. Outside, uniformed parking attendants had been waiting to whisk away the car. To where, I had no idea. I didn't ask, and neither did my pretend boyfriend.
Instead, he'd led us straight into the mansion like he knew exactly where he was going. Once inside, we'd been greeted by a butler who surely would've taken our coats, if only we'd been wearing any.
But we weren't, and we had nothing to hand over. I didn't even have a purse, which meant that Jax was carrying my wallet and cell phone inside the front pocket of his pants.
As we moved, I gave him yet another sideways glance. Whenever I tucked several things into a single pocket, I looked lumpy and awkward.
But he didn't. No. He looked like a movie star or secret agent, all smooth and tailored in spite of a car crash, a fist fight and a pocketful of things that weren't his own.
How was this even possible?
Stupidly, I thought of that tampon. Like a total coward, I'd shoved it further under the car seat and made a mental note to grab it after the party.
I just
prayed I didn't need it sooner.
Jax leaned his head close to mine and said, "Keep an eye out, will ya?"
"For what?" I asked.
"My brother." He paused. "Or a tiny redhead."
Okaaaaay. The brother, I got. The redhead, not so much. "I’m guessing you mean a specific redhead?" I tried to laugh. "I mean, this isn't like some sort of scavenger hunt, is it?"
After everything else tonight, I could practically see it. Find a can of corn, something fluffy, and one tiny red-head.
"No," he said. "It's more like a save-my-ass type of thing."
"Ohhhh, right." I gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I should've remembered. This is about that ten-minute deadline, isn't it?"
Earlier, Jaden had threatened to tell Darla – whoever that was – some horrible thing if Jax didn't show up within ten minutes. I wasn't wearing a watch, but I did know that we were surely beyond the ten-minute mark.
Jax gave me a silent nod and kept on going.
As we moved forward, I glanced around. I saw no sign of his brother. As far as redheads were concerned, I spotted at least three, but none of them could be called tiny. Rather, they were all tall and statuesque with legs that went on forever.
The nearest redhead – the one who happened to be heading straight toward us – was wearing a very tiny dress. Did that count?
Probably not.
I looked to Jax and said, "The tiny redhead – I'm guessing that would be Darla?"
"Right." As he said it, he lifted a glass of champagne off a passing tray. Without breaking stride, he handed me the glass. "Here. You'll need this."
"Why?"
"Trust me."
A moment later, we nearly collided with the tall redhead in the micro-dress. Or, more accurately, she nearly collided with us.
Ignoring me entirely, she gazed up at Jax and practically cooed, "There you are."
I stiffened. Yes. There he was.
Funny though, he didn't look nearly as happy to see her as she was to see him.
Her dress was a shade of deep emerald that showed off her stunning green eyes – eyes that were molesting my fake boyfriend, even as he looked past her, still scanning the crowd for his brother or Darla.
Undaunted, the redhead reached for his unclaimed arm and gave it a squeeze. With a flirty smile, she said, "You're late."
"Am I?" he said, still looking past her.
"Totally," she said. "And you promised me a dance."
"No," he replied, "I promised to toss you out if you made a scene."
She drew back. "I'm not going to make a scene."
"Good to know," he said.
Silently, I looked from the redhead to Jax. Was I supposed to be doing something? Their conversation had reminded me that I wasn't just a girlfriend. I was supposed to be – how had Jax put it? – a psycho jealous girlfriend.
But he hadn't been serious.
Had he?
I bit my lip. Even if he had been, I wasn't one to play games. I didn't like lying or pretending.
This begged the question, why on Earth was I here?
But the reason for that was obvious. I had nowhere else to go, and he'd asked me for a favor.
I owed him, plain and simple. Unfortunately, this also meant that I couldn’t accept any payment – not without feeling like a total ingrate. Already, I'd told him flat-out that no money would be changing hands.
Stupid? Probably. But I had my own code of ethics. So, here I was, wondering what to do.
As I watched, the redhead leaned closer to Jax and whispered loud enough for me to hear, "We don't have to dance standing up, you know."
What the hell?
Surely, she could see the girl on his arm – me, his supposed girlfriend – or, at the very least, his date. How would a normal girlfriend react?
I spoke up. "If you're talking about the horizontal hokey pokey, forget it."
Slowly, she turned her gaze in my direction. As if noticing me for the first time, she gave me a quick once-over and a little smirk. "And you are…?"
Stalling, I took a nervous gulp of my champagne. "His, um, girlfriend?"
God, I totally sucked at this. I looked to Jax for any sort of guidance. I received none. He was still scanning the crowd, as if determined to not be distracted.
The redhead gave a little laugh. "Oh, please. You can't be his girlfriend."
I tried for a little laugh of my own. "Oh really? Why not?"
"Because," she said, "I'm his girlfriend."
Suddenly, I wasn't laughing anymore. Wait, what?
Chapter 9
Her announcement hung in the air, and I didn't know what to say.
His girlfriend? Seriously?
I was still trying to form a reply when Jax told her, "No. You're not." As he said it, he didn't even look at her, like she wasn't worth the effort.
It was so cold, I stifled a shiver.
Ignoring his denial, she looked to me and announced, "We're on a break. That's all."
"Yeah," Jax said, "And like I told you, the break's permanent, so stop bothering Cassidy, alright?"
"Who's Cassidy?" She fluttered her hands vaguely in my direction. "You can't mean her."
"I can," he said. "And I do. So cut the crap. I'm looking for Jaden. Have you seen him?"
She gave Jax a sly smile. "Maybe."
The smile was a total waste. He was still scanning the crowd. "I'll take that as a no." Finally, he looked to me and said, "Come on. Let's get you a drink."
I blinked. I already had a drink. I looked down and paused. My glass was nearly empty.
Had I been guzzling? No wonder she'd given me such a look.
I was a total lush.
But in my own defense, I'd been more than a little nervous. Plus, the champagne was the best I'd ever had. True, I was no expert, given the fact that my previous experience was limited to cheap bottles on New Year's Eve. Still, even I could taste the difference.
In a show of defiance, I lifted my glass and drained it dry, savoring the sweetness of the bubbles as they danced across my tongue. Nope. Definitely not cheap.
When I lowered the glass, the redhead gave me another smirk. "You might want to pace yourself, chickie."
Chickie? I gave her a smirk right back. "You too, snookems."
Her gaze narrowed. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm perfectly sober."
Jax gave her a look. "Yeah. Well, give it time." And with that, he guided me around her, leading us deeper into the mansion. As we moved, I swear I could feel her eyes shooting daggers into my back.
Was she the reason I was here? Was I some sort of proof that Jax had moved on? I could see the logic, and yet, he didn't seem like the game-playing type.
I liked him. And I loved the feel of his arm, wrapped around my waist. It felt good, like we fit together just right.
Right on cue, my inner floozy whispered that we'd fit just right in other ways, too. I told her to shut up and tried to ignore the warmth that was, even now, creeping across my cheeks.
It was just the champagne. That's all.
Jax had just snagged me another glass when we spotted his brother, standing near a pair of French doors that led to an outdoor patio. The patio was lit with sparkling candles floating across – I felt my eyebrows furrow – a swimming pool?
The pool itself wouldn't've surprised me if I didn't know that we weren't on the ground floor. To reach the mansion's front entrance, we'd climbed an impressive amount of steps, skipping the lower level entirely. This meant that the pool wasn't your basic in-ground variety.
But of course, there was nothing basic about any of this.
From what I could see through the glass doors, the patio was absolutely stunning – all granite and marble with a raised hot tub, Grecian columns, and even a couple of massive palm trees.
How was that even possible? I squinted past the pool into the space beyond. But all I saw was darkness, like we were perched on the end of the world – which, in a way, I guess we were.
&n
bsp; Pushing aside the distraction, I looked back to Jax's brother. He was talking with a petite redhead who could only be Darla. I knew this, because she was, in fact, very tiny – probably no more than five feet tall.
Other than that, she wasn't what I'd been expecting. For some reason, I'd been expecting someone younger – maybe in her twenties or thirties, around the same age as the two brothers.
But Darla looked old enough to be their grandmother – or maybe even their great-grandmother.
Earlier, Jaden had called her scary. But she didn't look scary to me. She looked fun and festive in a classic flapper dress that would've been the latest fashion sometime in the 1920s.
The dress was silver and black with lots of fringes. Completing the look were long, lacy gloves and a sassy feather headband.
As I watched, she threw back her head and laughed at something Jaden had just said. As for Jaden himself, he looked far from terrified. Instead, he looked perfectly at ease.
Next to me, Jax said, "I'll be back in a minute. Wait here, alright?"
Without waiting for a response, he let go of my waist and began striding toward them. I took a nervous gulp of my champagne. It went down far too easily, and I had to remind myself to slow down.
When it came to drinking, I was a total lightweight and on the petite side myself. If I wasn't careful, I'd soon be staggering – or worse, hunched over some toilet, watching the champagne come right back up again.
With a little shudder, I lowered the glass and reminded myself that no one liked a toilet-hugger – or to hug a toilet for that matter.
Jax had just reached his brother when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to look and stifled a groan.
It was the redhead.
Of course.
With a little smile, she said, "I like your dress."
Her smile was fake, just like her compliment. Oh, I knew the dress was likeable enough. It was expensive and stylish. And, I knew that I looked good in it – not because I was overly sure of myself, but rather, because I so strongly resembled my mom, and she had looked fabulous in this exact same outfit.
Still, I knew insincerity when I heard it, and I had the distinct impression that I'd just been insulted. Refusing to show it, I stiffly replied, "Thank you. I like your dress, too."
One Good Crash Page 4