Overdrive (Santa Lena Sizzles series Book 3)

by Jessa York

  There were some battles you knew you wouldn’t win, no matter how much energy you put in. This was definitely one of those times. Although I couldn’t say I’d mind it one bit if he scooped me up and carried me out of here. The thought of being that close to him again heated my face.

  “Fine. But I’m paying you back,” I said arrogantly, shifting my ass out of the car as requested.

  I swore I heard him mutter, “Bet your ass you’ll pay me back.” When I asked him what he said, he hurried me up the steps to the entry door.

  Once Jason unlocked the door, he held it open for me, gently placing his hand on my lower back as I walked in front of him. He didn’t remove it while he maneuvered me up the very narrow stairs. It felt nice to have him touch me again. The warmth from his hand traveled throughout my body, and certain places started tingling, which also felt nice.

  What didn’t feel nice was this gross carpet underneath my shoes. My heel caught in the frayed, threadbare part on the stairs. Dammit, I was going down. Before my hand touched the floor, Jason grabbed me, saving me from immediate doom. Our eyes met for a brief moment, his face lowered to mine. The feel of his skin on mine sent shivers throughout my body. Even my nipples hardened at the sensation.

  “Careful,” was all he said before he let go.

  The walls were yellowed, dirtied with the marks of many humans passing through this stairway daily. The smells weren’t much better. When you mixed a few dozen supper aromas wafting under the doors, the resulting smell could never be good.

  We finally arrived on the third floor, continuing to traipse down that hallway. A light flickered as we passed, changing the atmosphere from rundown to plain eerie. My stomach sank, glad for Jason’s presence.

  He shoved a key into the doorknob and then threw the door wide, smacking a wall. I hated to admit it, but I actually hesitated going in, fearing what conditions he lived in. This was my stupid idea. I was much too proud to back out now, so I straightened my back, took a step forward, then something flew out of his apartment door and jumped on Jason.

  “Ah,” I screamed, putting my hands to my face, preparing to bolt in the other direction.

  Jason started laughing. It was such a beautiful sound, I swore I felt it down to my soul. He clutched my arm. “It’s just my stupid cat. See?” He spun around, introducing me to the feline who was now draped over his shoulder like a baby.

  “Meow?” the cat said, and I kid you not, it sounded like a question. He peered at me like he couldn’t believe I would intrude on his peaceful night of walking on furniture and napping.

  “Meow, right back at you. I’m Vivienne. Who might you be?” I asked, petting his soft fur. The cat purred immediately, making me smile so I kept at it.

  “This is Jinxy. She’s manipulative, judgmental as hell, and eats me out of house and home. But she also entertains me, so I keep her around,” he said, his voice filled with love, the way all proud pet owners spoke about their tiny fur babies.

  Ah, a female cat. “Sounds like a fair trade,” I said, rubbing behind her ears. She nudged my hand hard for more pets, making me giggle. “Can I hold her?” I asked, mesmerized by her warm, furry body. It had been years since I’d held a cat.

  He lifted her up like a giant Slinky, handing her over. “See? She’s got you under her spell already. Manipulative, just like I said.” He smiled now, continuing to pet her while I did the same. Her sweet, lanky body was so comforting molded next to mine.

  Our hands collided as we stroked the kitty. He held onto my fingers and squeezed. I gazed up at him with as much remorse as I could conjure up. “Fuck, Vivienne,” he whispered, staring down at me like he wanted to devour me. Now that was something I could work with. He was obviously still attracted to me, so it was a start. “Come on.” He took my hand, yanking me farther into his tiny apartment.

  21

  Vivienne

  I breathed a huge sigh of relief that the inside of his place didn’t match the outside. It was surprisingly orderly. Some neat things filled his limited accommodations. You could see everything in the room from here. Tiny kitchen, a small, red futon, and behind that a tiny desk—if you could call it that—with a laptop on it. At the back of the apartment, a double bed sat either on the floor or on some kind of support that I couldn’t see beneath the blankets.

  Then again, this entire place was a giant contradiction to who I thought Jason was. His clothes were nice, not designer but still cool. His haircut didn’t scream I live in a dump and neither did his car. It wasn’t like I thought he pulled in major bucks driving for a living, but I didn’t expect this either.

  The giant wall clock said it was nearing ten. Suddenly, I felt the weight of the past weeks descend down on me all at once. I needed to sit. This was a lot for my brain to take in.

  I sat down on the futon, placing the happy cat beside me. She protested being set aside so she climbed back onto my lap. “Your cat is very affectionate,” I informed him of something I’m sure he already knew. A grin spread across his face before he strode the four steps it took to get to the kitchen.

  Well, one thing was for sure—this place was efficient. Nothing too far from reach. This one room served the purpose of four as gracefully as it could. He came back with ice water for both of us, handing me a clear glass. The outside was mercifully cool, so I held it up to my head to relieve some of the confusion I saw before me.

  “Headache?” he asked me, concern in his voice.

  “Uh, not exactly. My brain feels like it’s going to burst, but it doesn’t hurt,” I answered him, then took a long drink of the cool water, hoping it would stop my head from spinning. It didn’t.

  “Sorry, it’s all I’ve got to offer you. I haven’t, um, been out to the store in a while,” he said hesitantly, like he was genuinely embarrassed he didn’t have something better than ice water to give me. I thought that was sweet. I didn’t care about what he had in his cupboards to offer me, but I was sad that it looked like he maybe didn’t have enough for himself.

  “This is perfect, thanks,” I said, placing the glass down onto the eccentric coffee table made up of several license plates from all over the country. It was understated, yet cool. I enjoyed the effect so much I couldn’t take my eyes off it. “I like this.” I pointed to the table, leaning forward to take a better look. “Did you make it?”

  “Nope. Picked it up at a garage sale. Like most of this stuff.” He motioned with his arm to the tiny room.

  Now that piqued my interest. “I love garage sales. I’ve found lots of great treasures for my house that other people were ready to dump. Do you go often?” I asked, quickly wishing I’d shut my mouth. The guy had no time or space for weekend bargain hunting.

  “Why are you here, Vivienne?” he said instead, shocking me. I hadn’t actually thought of what to do or say once we got to his place. All I knew I had to do was get here. Now what the hell was I going to say?

  Ignoring his question and trying to buy myself some time to think, I blurted, “Where’s your TV?” Every guy had a TV. It was the most important thing in their lives. Just ask Harper’s ex before she smashed his plasma screen to smithereens. I stood up, walking a few steps to his office chair—if you could call it that—and sat down carefully.

  He sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t have one.” He didn’t have one? No TV? What the hell?

  I spun around at his desk. “You don’t have a TV? Why not? Everyone has a TV for crying out loud.”

  Hands crossed his muscled arms on his chest, causing his biceps to really pop. He answered simply, “I don’t.”

  Clearly this man was insane. “I see that. But why don’t you have a TV? You could attach it to the wall right over there.” I pointed to the space by the bed. There wasn’t much room, but it would work. Then something occurred to me. Maybe he couldn’t afford one. “I’ll get you one,” I offered, trying to be helpful. “And a new desk chair, too. This one is falling apart.” His chair wobbled and creaked under my weight.


  “I don’t want a TV. No time to watch it, so it’s just going to sit there.”

  No time to watch TV? Who didn’t have time to watch TV? I ran my fingers over his laptop. It was the only thing in this room of quality—with a price tag to match. It didn’t match his surroundings, much like Jason. Was he an undercover cop or something?

  “Everyone has time to watch TV,” I said absentmindedly, trying to figure out the mystery before me. “Are you an undercover cop or something?” I asked. He threw his head back, laughing so hard I wondered if the walls would hold.

  He settled down, then replied, “Not exactly.” What kind of answer was that? Jerk. At least now he’d uncrossed his arms. His eyes filled with mirth, like we had a game to play.

  I swiveled the chair around and spotted two wide bookcases near the bed, filled to bursting. “You read, instead of watch,” I said, turning back toward him.

  “Mmmhmm, mostly. Although there are certain things I enjoy watching,” he said in a deep, husky tone that made me clench my thighs together. His eyes narrowed on me, spreading warmth as he raked his gaze down my body.

  The wall beside the tiny desk was filled with sticky notes containing various inspirational quotes. I ran my fingers over them. Some were new—others were curled up with age. All different colors, he didn’t discriminate with his sticky notes.

  A spiral notebook sat on the desk beside the laptop, more sticky notes poking out, attempting to see the light of day. Opening someone’s notebook would be a tremendous invasion of privacy, if that person weren’t there. But Jason stood directly in front of me. Gazing up, I took stock of his body language. He leaned against the wall, looking rather resigned, like he knew I was about to solve his mystery.

  Well then. I grabbed the notebook and opened it up. Chapter One was written on the first page. My brain scrambled to make sense of it. Paging through, I turned the sheets carefully. There were a number of sticky notes on each page that I feared losing. Descriptions, plots, and characters followed Chapter Two. He was a fucking writer.

  “You’re a writer? Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked as a knife sliced straight through from my heart to my stomach. He never shared this with me. Why?

  Shifting from the wall to beside the desk, he stepped around, removing the notebook from my hand. “It never came up,” he said as he placed the book back down beside the computer. The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. My eyes welled up.

  “It never came up because you never brought it up.” I stared at him with glassy eyes. Damn it all to hell, sometimes I hated being a girl. A man would never start crying in this kind of situation, but here I went. How could I possibly help it? I flashed back to all of the clues I’d found. Not once did he mention this rather important piece of information. Not so much as a hint.

  “It’s not important. I don’t make any money from it or anything.” Yet. That was what he wanted to say. I could feel it. His writing was the most important thing about him. He’d love to make money off of it someday. That was why he drove—to support his writing career. All of the tiny mysterious pieces of Jason began to fall into place.

  The list in his car, his tattoo, the book I’d found. He’d lied when I asked about all of these things.

  “What it is, Jason, is a huge part of you. The biggest part that you never trusted me with,” I said to him angrily, the tears in my eyes threatening to overflow.

  He turned around, hands running through his hair, pacing back toward the kitchen. “I didn’t want to sound stupid, okay? This means a lot to me. I don’t tell many people because they judge you, and I didn’t want you to think I was some loser who sits alone in his shitty apartment most days, typing away on a computer, working toward some pipedream that will likely never come to fruition.”

  “This is why you drive, right? So you can devote your extra time to writing,” I said, examining his every movement while he leaned against the near nonexistent kitchen cupboard.

  “Pretty much. Just over a year ago, I gave up my office job to see if I could make a go of writing. It’s something I always knew I wanted to do, just a matter of timing. Then I realized there never was going to be a good time. Now I live off driving and my ever-dwindling savings account.”

  I was able to keep my tears at bay, for now. “I really wish you had told me. The list I found in your car? That was for your book? Your tattoo, the book in your kit? This is a big part of your life. You never mentioned a thing.” Out of curiosity, I picked up his notebook again, flipping through it quickly. Every page was filled to bursting. He’d put a lot of time and effort into his writing. This was something he took seriously.

  “Well, I’d rather you didn’t tell your boyfriend. No offense, but that guy is a serious douche. I have no idea what you see in him.” He bit back at me, arms back to crossed and defensive again. He thought Jared was my boyfriend.

  “He’s not my boyfriend and he hasn’t been for months,” I said, standing up. Slowly, I crept toward him.

  “What do you call someone you hook up with regularly? Your lover? Are we getting stuck on semantics now?”

  “Um, there’s been no hooking up. Not for probably, ten months? In my book that’s called an ex-boyfriend. Semantically speaking, that is,” I said, trying rather unsuccessfully to quell the sarcasm.

  “And yet there you were, making out with him right on your doorstep. The douche filled me in on your sexual practices during the entire ride over to pick you up. Then he informed me you were moving in together, which was a big shock, considering I saw how much work you’ve put into your house. So I can only surmise that you really love him a lot to give all of that up.”

  I felt like he punched me. It was such a physical shock, I took a step back. “Excuse me? First of all, we were not ‘making out.’ He kissed me. Secondly, he said we were moving in together? That little bastard,” I shouted, spinning on my heel, stomping to the only window in this room, which was right by his bed. I barely contained the anger rising up in me. No wonder Jason was so pissed off. Jared must’ve said some pretty awful things. Awful lies. That asshole.

  There was no stopping the fit of rage that ensued as I stormed to my purse. Ripping out my phone with shaking hands, I dialed the number. That asshole better answer. It rang once. Twice.

  “I knew you’d call me eventually. You ready to apologize and come back to me yet?” His annoying voice was like nails on a chalkboard, making me scream even louder.

  “Come back to you? We haven’t been together in almost a year. And what the hell are you doing telling people we’re moving in together? Not only is that not true, that would never happen in a million years and you know it.”

  “Hey, settle down. What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The driver who took us to the banquet? The one you told all kinds of shit to?”

  “Ah, that kid. I only said that to him, nobody else. I was hoping to spring the question on you that night before things got messy.”

  “Spring what question? We aren’t together. What in your tiny little brain would make you think there’s anything about us that says let’s move in?” I bellowed, kicking the side of Jason’s bed. Yep, there was wood underneath it. Shit. Pain gripped my poor toe, but I refused to give Jared the satisfaction of letting him know. Silently, I slumped to the bed, kicking off my shoe. “You told him a bunch of personal stuff about us? That’s really classy, Jared. How many other people have you been shooting your mouth off to? Huh?”

  “He’s just a fucking driver. Who cares what I told him?”

  My blood pressure shot up to dangerous levels. All I saw was red. The pounding ache in my toe fueled my anger.

  “He’s not just a fucking driver. I’m falling in love with him, and you screwed everything up.”

  Jason

  Did she just say what I thought she said? My brain traveled a mile a minute as I prowled to her on my bed. She’d kicked the wooden frame during her temper tantrum, which was pretty hilarious. Her foot had to be hurting,
considering the force she’d used. I knelt down to wrap my hands around her delicate foot.

  “I was trying to be nice because I’d already said I’d go to the banquet with you. Which,” she held up her finger in the air, “I only did because you cried when I dumped your ass and I felt sorry for you. But then you turn around and pull this shit? I don’t think so,” she screamed into the phone again. I could hear every word the douche said, loud and clear. There was no denying his guilt.

  “If I ever hear of you saying shit like that about me again, I’ll...I’ll...I’ll...I don’t know what I’ll do, but it’ll be bad.”

  She was cute when she was mad. The phone bounced on my covers and then onto the floor. Uh-oh. Jinxy spooked, dashing under the futon.

  “It wasn’t true, Jason,” she sobbed. I pulled her into my chest. “None of it. I’d never move in with him. Our crappy relationship was over months ago.” She took a huge breath before continuing. “I’m so sorry he lied to you.”

  I held her even tighter against my aching body. God, she felt good. I’d missed holding her in my arms. The floral smell of her hair brought back the memory of her underneath me, her scent surrounding us. My cock throbbed, wanting more than anything to back inside this beautiful woman.

  “I don’t care what he said. I care what you said. Why’d you lie to me?” I asked, wanting an answer from her after all this time.

  “I’m sorry for lying to you,” she said, squinting up at me with tears streaming out of her eyes. “I felt trapped into going with Jared, and I didn’t want to dump my past onto you. We were still so new. I worried if I told you, I’d screw everything up. Which I managed to do anyway.” She let her forehead fall onto my chest. “Can you forgive me?” she asked, but what she didn’t realize was that I’d already done that.

  “Honey, look at me,” I asked, then she glanced up, guilt in her eyes. “We can’t have lies between us. You should have just leveled with me. I might not have been happy you were going with him, but we could have talked about it.”