Chapter 8

MELODY

He gesturesto a teen propped against the wall and reaches inside his pocket.

The boy stopsin front ofhim and listens carefully before receiving some cash.

My companion gives him directions, and soon after, the teen enters the diner and makes a beeline for the counter.

The place gives off vintage vibes with shiny red benches, wooden tables, cakes tucked under glass domes on the counter, and red and white uniforms.

The food must be good as the place is packed.

I focus on the man who's promised to take me home tonight.

His name… Yeah, his name.

I start digging for my phone.

"Why didn't I do this last night?" I murmur, powering my phone on and looking for his number.

I type it in the search engine and check the results.

Moments later, I pay a fee on some website, hoping to find the owner's name.

I get zero information. Not so surprising, though. He must use a burner.

Maybe I need some professional help.

My brother–in–law is good with this, but I won't call him in the middle of the night with such a strange request.

Plus, I know the owner.

I just don't know his name.

‘Ask him,' the voice inside my head suggests, clearly irritated.

That's exactly what I'm going to do.

Disappointed, I put my phone down when it vibrates with a call.

I pick it up, a smile pulling at my lips.

"Alice??" I ask incredulously.

My best friend chuckles.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep. I got home late, went to the gym, and thenIstruggled to fall asleep. And then…"

She pauses, munching on some food.

"Then I remembered you had a date, so I tried my luck. Although I didn't expect you to answer my call. What happened?"

I lift my gaze and check the area.

My man is still there, talking to those strangers, while the guy tasked withbringing backmy food is waiting.

"Nothing happened."

"Like nothing happened in the bedroom?" she says, making me smile.

"How do you know?"

"Those were the only times I came home early when I was dating."

Alice met her fiancé online.

He's all right—more than all right. Easy on the eyes and disciplined, he has his own company, while Alice works in the finance industry like me.

I stay silent, but something clues her in.

"You're home, aren't you?"

"Hmm… Not exactly."

"Are you at a bar?"

A smile lines her voice.

"I wish," I say, my focus on the scene in front of me.

A couple ofcars pull up in front of the diner, and men climb out. What is going on?

"Listen. I gotta go. I'll call you. Do you have any plans for the weekend?"

"Uh… No. Not that I know of. Call me when you can."

"I sure will."

I hang up and focus entirely on the scene in front of me.

One of the newcomers shouts at random people, trying to start a brawl before turning his attention to my company.

The dark-haired man is unperturbed, not flinching.

The boy carrying my food exits the diner and heads to me, not botheredin the slightest. What is it with these people?

I straighten in my seat, a sense of urgency in my move. I just wish my tormentor finished his business and returned to the caras well.

The teen knows what he's doing, rounding the car, opening thedriver sidedoor, greeting me without making eye contact, and setting the food in the back.

I thank him.

"Hey," I say as he's about to zip away.

He flicks his gaze in my direction.

"Do you know what's going on over there?" I ask as the music blasts over the speakers in one of the cars.

He shrugs.

"Have no idea," he says cryptically, which makes me think he's been taught to mind his business and keep his mouth shut.

"Nothing unusual in your opinion?" I probe.

Halfheartedly attempting to appease me, he looks away and stares blankly at those people.

"Nothing from what I can tell."

Moving away, he cuts our conversation short and barely reaches the sidewalk when one of the troublemakers lunges at my protector.

The jab comes from the side without warning, and I sweat a little, envisioning myself talking to the police while he's taken into custody and then driving his car home.

None of those scenarios appeal to me. Little old selfish me… I'm not even thinking about what could happen tohimorevenme if I didn't maneuver my way out of this sticky situation fast enough.

Is this the moment when I should check the glove compartment? How do these things work?

My eyes are glued to the attacker, and the next thing I know, the tattooed man takes a step back, swings his arm, and punches his attacker in the face.

The aggressor hits the ground with a thud and no longer moves while the other people resume their conversation.

I can't see my companion's face as his back is turned to me, but nothing in his stance suggests he is anything but relaxed.

If I were him, I'd be concerned the aggressor's buddies might try to do something similar.

That's not the case with him.

He slides his hands into his pockets and speaks to the people in front of him while two men collect the attacker from the sidewalk.

I release a long-held breath.

Cool.

What have I gotten myself into?

MELODY

He spendsa few more moments in front of that diner before shaking hands with those men and heading my way.

The road has cleared now, and we're the only car in front of the establishment.

He slides into the driver's seat and glances at me.

"You okay?" he murmurs.

I nod.

Soon after, he checks the rearview mirror and steers the car away.

My mouth waters at the smell of food, but my mind is still fixated on what happened at the diner.

"There was an incident back there," I say.

He glances at me, clearly thinking about something else, not realizing what I'm talking about.

"Incident?"

I nod.

"No?" I say.

He thinks about it for a second.

"Oh, that…" He gestures dismissively. "It was nothing. Some fool looking for trouble."

"He found it, it seemed."

He flicks his hand again as if it's nothing.

"It happens all the time."

"Like the chaos on that street."

He glances at me again, an eyebrow lifted, a playful smile on his face.

"What street?"

"You know what street."

I flick my chin in the direction of the place we came from.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course, you don't. What was your plan, anyway?"

He laughs, proud of himself, his smile making him appear outrageously young again.

"You're looking at it."

"Me in your car?"

"Uh-huh."

"And you've accomplished that how?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

"Killing your boyfriend's boner."

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to stifle a grin and keep my face straight.

"You said it yourself. It was our first time, sohecouldn't be my boyfriend. And for sure, he isn't my boyfriend now. You've made sure of that."

"Yeah. I know,"hesays, impressed with whathedid. "By killing his boner," he reminds me, and I whip my gaze outside and secretly smile before uttering words in a serious tone.

"You don't know that."

"Oh. ButI do," he says, and I feel his fingers above my knee right under my hem.

I jump and swat his hand away.

He laughs like a dick.

"See. I fucking told you,"hedrawls. "It was your first time with him, and you got none."

I bite my lip again until I taste blood. Never in my life have I found a man so funny so quickly.

I'm sure it's an accident.

He can't be so funny. Or stubborn. Or both.

"He couldn't get it up?" he offers while my cheeks hurt from pushing back a laugh.

I suck in a short breath.

"He got it up?" he murmurs, a grin tugging at his lips.

He looks at me, washed with disbelief, his eyes laughing. "You saw it?" he presses further and slaps his thigh with his inked hand. "Man, I was so fucking close… I thought my timing was right. I didn't want you to see it," he says, a lazy smile tilting his lips as he slowly veers his car toward my place.

The fact that he knows exactly where I live has somehow become irrelevant.

On a different note, I can't believe we're talking about Thomas's manhood like it's some pet.

"You know…" I say, holding too much air in my chest. "You want awholelot from me, considering you haven't even given me your name."

He looks at me, a delicious smile splashed across his face as if he's gotten me exactly what he wanted.

Again.

"Sorry, babe. My name is Jax London," he says, formally introducing himself. "And you must be…"

He holds his hand out for me.

I ignore it.

"You probably know who I am," I say, glancing away as he pulls his car to a stop in front of my building.

It"s not very different from Thomas's building, except it's not that big, and my apartment is smaller.

"No. I don't," he says, and I bring my eyes to his.

His hand is still there.

"No hand?" he teases.

I place mine in his.

He tenderly holds it, wrapping his fingers around it, his heat entering my skin.

Something is so familiar in his touch, like a memory that never happened, fueling a sensation of closeness I've rarely felt.

Perhaps because he holds my hand with purpose, mystified to a degree.

"Your name," he says, insisting he doesn't know my full name.

"You know where I live, yet you don't know my full name?"

"I want you to tell me your name. It's more romantic, isn't it?"

A shred of irony threads through his voice.

I try to retrieve my hand.

He stops me, gripping me firmly.

"I don't like to be teased," I say sternly, and his smile loses its edge.

"I was sincere."

The tone of his voice agrees with his words.

"Your name, babe."

"Melody Hill. I'm an investment banking VP, overseeing mergers and acquisitions," I say, not aiming to impress him as much as to remind myself who I am.

The edges of my identity surreptitiously fray whenever I'm in his presence, and now is no exception.

If he is impressed, he hides it well.

On the other hand, it makes no difference. It's not like we're real friends or anything.

The other reason for offering him some information was to prompt him to do the same.

"Nice to meet you, Melody Hill… Super sexy VP. You've done well for yourself," he says with admiration, which is more than I usually garner from anyone introduced to me.

"I can't complain."

"Thomas–guy must be in the same line of business," he murmurs, his eyes gliding down the length of my body.

"Yes, he is."

Our eyes connect again.

"Too bad he can't get it up from all that work-related stress," he jokes.

"I've already told you. Hecan get it up."

"Yes, you've told me, darling. How could I forget."

He unexpectedly brings my hand to his mouth and presses his lips against the back of my knuckles, a flicker of pleasure swirling down my spine.

"Although, usually, getting another man's dick up is a deal breaker for me."

I yank my hand out of his when he breathes out a chuckle.

I look away to hide my smile.

"You, Jax London, make so many claims and have no basis for them." I swing my eyes back to him. "You have no right to tell me what to do or not do. We met at my––"

He flicks his finger up, signaling I must use his preferred word.

"Whatever… Shrink," I mutter.

"I like you,'" he says, sounding like a justification, before I continue.

"So?" He opens his mouth to speak, but I'm faster than him, wagging my finger at him. "And no… You don't like me. You know nothing about me. I don't like myself most days, and you think you like me based on what? We have nothing in common. You're probably into women who…"

I lose steam quickly while his eyes glint faintly with a knowing smile.

"You like me too," he says. "You liked me from the second you ran into me at that woman's office."

Words fail me.

"You know what?" I finally say. "I don't have time for this. I don't like games. You're playing with words."

Hetakes my hand again, and candor flickers through his eyes.

"This is not a game," he says. "And this is not me playing with words," he adds while I grapple with a surge of heat and apprehension.

He can't be serious.

Although he looks dead serious.

"I don't want to scare you," he says, aware of my struggle. "But that's why I said what I said. That's the basis of my claims."

I ponder his words.

"Even if that were true, simply liking someone can't be the basis of anything. There are so many other things that go into that. And it doesn't give you the right to mess with my date."

He looks at me like I make no sense.

"Your date? He let you go home alone."

"I asked him to do that. And it was mainly because I didn't want more chaos in front of his building."

He sets my hand on his thigh, not far from his bulge, and rests his fingers on top of mine before peeking in the rearview mirror as a car approaches us and moves past us.

"I don't care about thatThomas–guy. I said what I said because of you," he mutters, and I shift in my seat to face him.

"Jax London…" I say quietly, taking unusual pleasure in uttering his name. "You know nothing about me. I don't knowa lot ofthings about myself, and that's precisely why I'm seeing Dr. Stenson. You can't possibly read me so well and know what I like and don't like. And even if I'm not a great match for thatThomas-guy––as youlike tocall him––I have to make my own mistakes, or I'll never learn. How do you think I've survived all this time?"

He flashes a charming smile.

"Seeing a shrink?"

"Oh, my…" I shake my head on the cusp of giving up."Seriously, now," I say. "You could've gotten yourself arrested. And for what? To have me in your car?"

"Would've. Could've. Whatever. It didn't happen."

A few moments pass.

He stares out the window, evading my eyes.

"Listen…" I say. "Maybe you have your own issues––I don't want to pry––but using me to get arrested is not something I want to be a part of."

He moves his eyes back to me, making himself comfortable in his seat.

"You know nothing about me, Melody Hill," he says, cold anger flashing through his gaze. "I hated the time I spent in jail. And I don't plan to go back there anytime soon, especially to prove something to a beautiful woman. It wouldn't make any sense."

I wait for him to continue.

"I did what I did tonight because life can be so fucking boring sometimes… Especially for people like you. Look at you…"

It's not what I thought he'd say, but I know where he's going with this. And no. I don't need to look at myself.

I've done itmany timesthese past few months, whether on a lonely evening or in Aretha's office.

I bring my free hand to his face and touch his lips.

"I know…" I say quietly. "And you're right," I add, my eyes dipping to his mouth. "Life is boring. But highjacking someone's life is not the opposite of boring. Even if my life is dull, I need to find a way to make it interesting. Me. Not you."

He removes my fingers from his mouth and straightens in his seat.

For a moment, I'm convinced he is about to lean to me and kiss me like he did last night, and I would like that, but it doesn't happen.

"I won't argue with you," he says. "You do what you need to do. But… You can't tell me not to do what I want."

We're so close I'm convinced what ‘he really wants to do' has nothing to do with what he did tonight.

"I need to go," I say, realizing I'm getting dangerously close to wanting this man.

And that would make zero sense.

His hand tightens over mine.

"Let's do this… You stop seeing all these men, and I'll show you how much fun a man can be."

My mouth slides open in surprise.

Negotiating has always been one of my favorite things to do. The harder it is to strike a deal, the more stimulating it can be, but what just came out ofhismouth is brilliant and outrageous at the same time.

Brilliant from his point of view.

And outrageous from mine.

He's moving fast.

He couldn't have said that to me last night. It took us twenty-four hours to get to the negotiation table.

He first showed me what he could do to me. And he can do a damn lot. He's fearless and can't be deterred, which are his two biggest strengths so far.

There are others, but those have to do with his piercing eyes and the devilish smile draped over his lips, and I refuse to get into that.

I think about itfor a momentand then do what I usually do best.

Walk away.

But not without a little cliffhanger.

I lean toward him, remove my hand from his, and put it on his chest.

"I need to go," I say softly, almost breathing over his lips.

He doesn't move, the moment becoming moreseriousthan we would like to think.

Every time I'm in his space, I feel like I'm home and have a deep longing to stay there for a while.

I pull backjustas the kiss almost becomes unavoidable, and I watch the light in his eyes change.

"Have a good night," I say, unable to crush the regret that I can't do it.

I gather my things, elegantly slide out of his car, and quietly close the door out of consideration for my neighbors before moving up the stairs like a ghost.