Page 35 of Wild Fixation
Something tickles the back of my mind, but I ignore it. “It is. When do you need help?”
He brightens. “Tomorrow night. Nine o’clock?”
“Okay, I’ll make sure I have a car.”
“No driver,” he says quickly, then adds, “I want it to be low profile, you know?”
That tickle is getting stronger, but I say, “That’s fine. I can drive you myself. It’ll be more inconspicuous that way.”
“Yes, that’s perfect!”
He’s too happy about getting in my extremely ordinary car, but I set even that aside. It’s an ice cream. I can drive him to the place, keep an eye on him, and get him home with minimal fuss. The press won’t even have time to notice, and if they do, I’ll be right there to protect him.
All the itchy anxiety Ryan’s interview caused dissipates at the thought. A simple ice cream. No problem. Even if someone intends to meet up with him there, I can keep him secure and low-key.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Jacob says.
The bounce in his tone should alert me, but I’ve never been good at heeding the warnings when it comes to Jacob. I agree, and the matter is settled before I have time to regret it.
Chapter Nineteen
Jacob
I PACE THROUGH MY massive apartment, wearing a track into the hardwood floors as I cross my living room again and again. Outside the huge windows, Seattle twinkles with lights. Cars clog the streets, blinking nodes of red contrasting the glittering silver above. I scan them as though I can pick out which car belongs to Seth, but they’re all the same from up here.
My phone buzzes.
I startle, scrambling to drag it out of the back pocket of my jeans, where I also stored my wallet and keys. The jeans verge on too tight, and the shirt above is asymmetrical and slashed in places. I rubbed a bit of product on my hands before sweeping them through my hair to tame it slightly more than usual. Then I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror for half an hour wondering if I looked like I was trying too hard.
I’m still wondering as I scan Seth’s “I’m here” message, cram my phone back in my pocket, and all but sprint from my apartment. My heart hammers like I ran a mile and not a few feet by the time I reach the elevator. The ride seems to take forever, and the whole time my mind screams that Seth will have left before I can reach him. I’m shocked he agreed to this. I did … massage the truth, but regardless, part of me always expects him to slip out of my grasp.
When I burst out of the apartment building, his car sits puttering at the curb. A grin blooms across my face as I jog to his car and fling myself into the passenger seat.
“Hey,” I say.
Seth keeps his eyes forward. His hands tighten on the wheel. “Where to?”
I give him the address of a place up in the Fremont area, north of the city proper. It’s some of the best ice cream in the entire city, and I wasn’t going to settle for anything less.
I risk a glance at Seth as he drives. He’s silent behind the wheel, eyes determinedly forward. Black T-shirt, black pants. The same as ever, though his beard is freshly trimmed and sitting a bit closer to his face. I let myself believe he might have cleaned up for me, for this.
“That’s the place,” I say, pointing.
Seth does not acknowledge my arm passing across him. He circles the block, checking out the other cars parked nearby as well as the crowd outside the place. Once he deems it acceptable, he parks beside the curb.
“Let me get out first,” he says.
He doesn’t wait for a reply, but I wasn’t going to disagree. I get a private little thrill out of watching him hop out of the car and stalk toward the ice cream place. He prowls around, and I sit in his car like a prince in a royal carriage.
Finally, he returns, opening my door for me. I can’t resist, so I hold out my hand, leaving him little choice but to take it and help me out of the car. I hold on a beat longer than necessary, clinging to his hand, to this tiny taste of what we shared the other night. The roughness of his palm sends a shiver through my body that carries with it the memory of these strong hands running down my torso to peel my thighs open.
Seth lets go hastily, too hastily, as though he felt what I felt, as though those same memories rippled from my mind to his. He starts off, realizing after a step that this wasn’t his idea. He stops, motioning me past him, and I let my shoulder brush against him as I take the lead.
The ice cream place consists of an order window at the front of a totally unrelated restaurant. The restaurant doesn’t even serve ice cream. They just allow the ice cream place to occupy this tiny booth. There’s no line at this time of night, so I head right to the booth, where a bored employee startles and almost drops her phone.
“Um…”
Dread knots in my stomach as her eyes widen with recognition. I flash a smile and push on like I’m any other customer.
