Page 74 of Filthy Rich

“I have no idea who he is,” Jake says. “Which is why I tipped him.”

“You let someone you don’t know drive your car?” I’m surprised. Most guys I know act like their car’s their baby, at least if it’s nice.

Jake shrugs. “Stuff never matters a lot to me. I mean, I try to take care of my things, but it’s not worth stressing about.”

“Really?”

He merges so fast, I’m flung back against the seat. “It’s only money, O,” he says. “If your problem can be solved with money, it’s not a real problem.” He winks.

I might be in trouble, because he says things like that, and I think he’s pretty clever and balanced, too. I really, really like him. “So if you don’t care about pedestrian things like money, then why did you buy a car that cost. . .” I pause. “Actually I have no idea what this would cost, but I’m guessing it was more than my Honda.”

He glances at me sideways. “No one has ever asked me why I bought this one, not even Bea.” He turns back to the road, but his brow is furrowed. “Actually, it’s stupid, the reason I picked this monstrosity.”

“Wait,” I say. “Don’t you like your own car?”

“It’s fun to drive.” He grunts. “But I would have bought a less obnoxious color if this hadn’t been my dream for more than a decade.”

I’m confused.

“My dad promised me once that if I’d help him with a big job, he’d get me a Nissan Z. It was the car our mark drove. I had to do some dangerous and pretty scary things on that job, but it worked, and at the end, he didn’t break his promise.” He chuckles. “I failed to clarify that I wanted one that was larger than a pack of gum.”

“He gave you a matchstick car?”

“He said that lesson of hammering down details was more valuable than a car would have been. I should’ve known he wasn’t going to buy me a real car. I was nine, but I was pretty sore about it for a while. After staring at that stupid car for ten years. . .”

“I guess when you got your first big paycheck, you knew how to spend it.”

“Exactly. This was the first thing I bought,” Jake says. “The rest of my money’s saved. I’m actually not a very big spender.”

That doesn’t surprise me. He doesn’t wear brand names I haven’t seen him paid to market. And if all his dad valued was money, it makes sense he’d be slow to spend his once he got it. “I bet that makes you an anomaly in Hollywood.”

“It’s why I spend all my free time here,” he says. “And why my agency got me an apartment in LA. I refused to buy a ridiculous house, and they got sick of paying hotel bills, which I always insisted they cover in the contracts as a New York resident being asked to travel for work.”

“Maybe your dad’s lesson was worth something after all.” One of my favorite songs starts on the radio before he can respond, and I start to sing along.

Jake goes utterly quiet.

After a moment, I stop. “Why aren’t you singing?”

“There are very few things in the world I like as much as hearing you sing.”

That makes me blush. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

He drops his hand over mine. “I plan to keep speaking the truth so often that you finally accept it. I’m not sure who convinced you that you’re less than you are, but I’m going to be the one who undoes that damage.”

For some reason, that makes tears well up in my eyes. “No one did that.”

“Someone,” he says. “Otherwise, you’d know how stunning you are. In appearance, in talent, and in friendship, you’re as good as it gets. Other than Bea, there’s never been someone I couldn’t get enough time with.” He glances my way. “Until you.”

On the next song, he sings with me, and that’s even better.

The drive to my place flies by, and before I know it, we’re parked and he’s unloading my bag.

“I can take it from here.” I hold out my hand.

He steps close—way too close, so that we’re almost touching—and then he bites his lip, lowering his head until we’re eye-to-eye. “I’m going to kiss you right here, Octavia Rothschild, so that you know exactly how much I like you. I’m going to kiss you so long, and so hard, that you have not a single doubt in your mind about all the many things I want to do to and with you.” He smiles, and his dimples. . .his wicked dimples. . .and then he kisses me.

It’s every single thing he said it would be.

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