Page 23 of Dirty Dealer
She shrugs. “Some.”
She’s closed off, her focus elsewhere, and I don’t know how to get her back.
“Mind if I—” She leans forward to mess with the radio controls.
Once the volume goes up, I’ll have missed my window. But I can’t very well demand we not listen to music. “Sure. Hey, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Burgers and fries again? Or something else?”
She bites her lower lip and her gaze darts to mine with an apologetic shrug. “I better not.”
That wave of opportunity approaches. Crashes. Tosses me head first into a mouthful of kelp. “Right.”
She turns up the music and drowns out any further chance at conversation. My hopes for this evening die a slow and painful death to the tunes of ‘90s top hits. I’ve reached a new low. Yet I spend the rest of the drive concocting some way to salvage this.
13
Rachel
My hand reaches for the door handle the second Jude shifts into park outside my apartment. The ride was almost painful, my silence and music selection warding off any friendly conversation. I almost broke on more than one occasion. But then I remembered Ethan’s voicemail and my resolve to keep things one hundred percent platonic between myself and Jude cemented with each mile. As much as I enjoy Jude’s company, I can’t fall into old habits. I won’t lose myself in another man.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
“Oh, no. I don’t need a ride.”
He sighs. “I thought we’ve been through this. I’m driving you.”
“No, it’s not that.” I fiddle with the strap on my handbag. I hate having to explain myself to anyone, not because I’m embarrassed, but because I don’t want to think about my future. Even though Jude’s been so helpful, basically the nicest person I’ve met since moving here, he deserves to know. Besides, I wouldn’t put it past him to show up to my apartment every morning if I didn’t give him a reasonable explanation. “My contract for the job is up. I don’t have anything on the books, just a modeling shoot over the weekend, and for that I’m driving down with one of the models.”
“Model?” His harsh tone catches me by surprise.
Is he jealous? I don’t know why he would be, but I sort of like the idea. Which is bad, bad, bad. Get it together, Rae. No leading him on. No thrill at the glimpse of his alpha protectiveness.
“Also one of my roommates. She got me the job.” I probably imagine it, but his shoulders seem to relax.
He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, his gaze not meeting mine. “So you’re between gigs, then?”
Of course.He’s not jealous of me spending time with models. He’s concerned I’m going to ghost on him. Probably why he’s so insistent on giving me rides. “If you’re worried about the two grand to fix Iron Maiden, I’m good for it. I can get you the cash now.” Sure. It’ll drain my entire savings and I will have to resort to a strictly ramen diet to make rent next month, but I knew I’d have to shell out money for the repairs soon.
“Rachel.” He grinds his teeth and flashes me a glare. “Stop.”
“What?”
He opens his mouth as if to say something, but shakes his head in the negative. “The mechanic doesn’t need the money until you pick up the car. I trust you won’t screw me over. Or abandon that old car you seem to love, though I don’t understand why.” He chuckles. “Besides, I know where you live.”
I roll my eyes, but his teasing brings a grin to my lips. “You’re going to miss hauling my ass all over LA, that’s it, then?”
He grins back, his smile growing wider. “You have no idea.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“If anything changes, you’ll text me?”
“Sure.” I reach for the door again.
He reaches out, brushing my bare arm with a surprisingly gentle touch. “Promise me, Rachel.”
“Fine.” I draw out the word as if it pains me to relent, but the truth is this is a deal I have no problem agreeing to. It’s not as if I’ll get a call out of the blue between now and next week. I meet his gaze. “I promise.”
He smiles, too pleased with himself and sporting anI just wongrin. He hops out and helps me unload my makeup.
