Page 7 of Caged Heat

Her face brightened as she smiled. “That’s great, E.”

“No. It isn’t. It’s the worst.” I shook my head, fanning my face. I did not act like this. What was wrong with me?

“You’ll be fine. When is it?” she asked, glancing back over her shoulder to check on her customers.

“In twenty minutes or so.” I cringed, my cheeks heating.

Steph’s head whipped around, her eyes bugging out now. “Oh, shit.”

I nodded, biting my lip. I glanced down at my graduation dress and then back up. Steph tilted her head, a calculated look on her face.

“We can make it work. Give me five minutes.” She untied her apron and tossed it onto the bar. “I’m taking five!” she shouted, grabbing my hand and pulling me back to the employee break room.

True to her word, I walked out of Bottle Grounds five minutes later with a chambray shirt tied at the front over my black dress, a borrowed pair of heels higher than I’d ever dared to wear, and my hair freshly tousled. Some eyeliner, mascara, and freshly applied lipstick later, I was deemed date-worthy.

CHAPTER THREE

JACKSON

Ella’s video reply came through, and I almost dropped my phone as I took in her gorgeous face. Her profile picture didn’t do her justice. Deep, soulful eyes stared at me, the gray-blue color so unique I wanted to get lost in them. Her dark hair curled around her heart-shaped face, a lone dimple poking out on the right side when she briefly smiled. Her pouty lips drew me next, the red on them intriguing me. Not every woman could pull off that shade, but my Ella owned it.

I couldn’t make out anything else; the camera view was too close for me to tell how tall she was. But her voice might be my new favorite sound. The dark sultry tone gave the impression she smoked a pack a day, and I was half tempted to ask her to say my name again so I could record it. It gave me chills hearing her say, Jackson. I never knew that was my aphrodisiac.

After sending off the address, I listened to the video several times as I cataloged every detail I could. When my dick hardened in my pants, I took mercy on myself and turned it off, shifting myself to get some relief. Despite peering around the bar, I didn’t see the other patrons present, my mind focused only on Ella.

Had I come on too strong? Would she be able to get past our age difference? Would I make a fool of myself?

These feelings of insecurity and unsureness were refreshing. Most people would probably scoff at me for thinking that and tell me I had issues. But my whole life, almost everything had come easy to me. It sounded arrogant as fuck to think that, but since I was the only one who could hear my thoughts, I’d allow it.

“Need anything, JP?” the waitress asked, batting her eyelashes at me. She pressed her tits close together, her cleavage on full display. Despite the show she gave me, I didn’t look. Girls like her were part of the problem to begin with. One I hoped would soon be solved.

“I’m good.” I dropped my eyes back to my phone and stared at the picture of Ella, going over everything in her profile again. Ella thrilled me, sending huge amounts of dopamine to my brain as I focused on her.

The waitress made a sound, and I glanced up, realizing she hadn’t left. She pouted at me; her eyes narrowed as she stared.

“I get off in an hour,” she said, trying a different approach.

Sighing, I pulled out my wallet and tossed a few bills on the table before exiting the other side of the circular booth.

“Can’t. Bye, Stacy.” I walked away, knowing I was about to be the dick in her story.

“It’s Samantha!”

Ignoring her, I pushed open the door and leaned against the outside wall. I’d rather stand out here in the heat than have to avoid her any longer. She made me out to be the asshole when she’d been the one to ignore my subtle cues to be left alone.

But this was what I meant. My whole life, I’d been classified as the problem instead of a victim in a system not built for me.

For instance, school wasn’t difficult. Or at least the learning part. If anything, it had been dull, which led me to get into trouble more often than not for talking and causing “a ruckus.” But I’d surprised my mom and teachers every reporting period when I had all A’s. Honestly, it was more offensive than anything when people assumed I was dumb because I talked a lot. Boredom wasn’t a lack of intelligence, people. Create an environment that recognizes different learning styles, and you might discover a whole new side of students.

In an effort to curb my energy, my mom put me in every sport. Much to her dismay, I excelled at them all. I chose football because my friends played and later earned a scholarship to play in college. After three years of school, I graduated early with a BA, surprising everyone when I didn’t declare for the draft. But football had never been my passion, just something I had the good fortune to be talented at.

Blessed with good looks and athleticism, I never had to work hard to get a girl, either. I just smiled, and they flocked to me. It was fun initially, but that lost its appeal after a while. Even now, girls my age were predictable; it took minimal effort to snag them.

I knew how entitled and spoiled I sounded, so I mostly kept my thoughts to myself. But after graduating early and rising up in the ranks at work to the director position, I still found myself bored with it all.

The job. The money. The girls.

At twenty-eight, I felt I’d peaked with nothing on the horizon to look forward to. It was a bleak future to accept.

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