Page 53 of Enticing the Enforcer
Madison looksat me like she’s trying to decide if I heard her or not. Fair, I think I’m in shock, because for a moment my tongue feels heavy in my mouth. I stumble over my words.
“Jake is here?” My head spins. “Why here? Why now?”
“He’s filming something in the city and I guess production had a box?”
That answer is bullshit. Pure, 100% bullshit. He’s here because I have someone else in my life and for the first time I’m the one moving on first.
The expression on Madison’s face tells me she’s thinking the same thing.
Marv gives me a careful look, like he’s weighing my reaction. “I can tell him to leave if you want.”
“No.” I shake my head too quickly, forcing in a steady breath. “It’s fine. Just…”
My eyes drift toward Jefferson. He’s across the room, half in conversation with one of the trainers, but already his gaze has found me. The shift in the air between Marv and me hasn’t goneunnoticed. His gray eyes narrow slightly, a crease of concern forming as he studies me.
I cross the room, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. Jefferson meets me halfway, his hand brushing over my arm as though anchoring me.
“What’s going on?” he asks softly, dipping his head closer so no one else hears. “Another threat?”
I shake my head. “No, nothing like that. Everything’s fine. There’s someone who wants to see me.”
He tilts his head, brow furrowed. “Yeah? Who?”
I force the words out. “My ex.”
For a beat, Jefferson studies me. Then the tension drains from his shoulders, his jaw loosening. He exhales slowly, a puff of relief. “Oh.” A faint smile ghosts over his lips. “Okay.”
I blink at him. “You don’t care?”
His hand slides up, gentle but sure, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The brush of his knuckles against my cheek is so tender it nearly undoes me. “I only care about what you care about, Angel,” he says. “If you want to see him, that’s fine by me.”
Something in my chest swells, warm and fluttery, filling every corner until it’s hard to breathe. It’s almost unbearable, the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters. Jefferson Parks, the man everyone swears is nothing but a cocky playboy, is proving, again, that he’s one of the good ones.
I swallow hard. “I think it’s just easier to do it this way.” My smile is shaky, more grimace than grin. “Just rip the bandaid off.”
The faint crease of worry returns to Jefferson’s brow, but I’ve already straightened, pulling in a deep breath, trying to steady the nerves rattling under my skin.
Marv re-enters, Jake a few steps behind him. As much as I hate it, my body reacts before my brain does and I brace myself.It’s instinct. I haven’t seen him face-to-face since the night I walked out of his apartment in LA. Humiliated. Heartbroken. Determined never to look back.
And now here he is, walking toward me with that stupid, fake, easy grin he always uses when he’s uncomfortable. His dark hair’s an inch too long, curly and wild. He’s slim, wiry–shorter than me if I’m in heels, which is exactly why, when we were together, I never wore them. Flats only. I’d shrunk myself to make him feel taller, bigger, enough.
Jake’s pivoting into acting after his music career, his sound always skewing more alt-rock than my brand of pop storytelling. We’d been a clash of opposites, the kind of fire that either catches and burns hot or fizzles out.
We didn’t just fizzle. The man doused us with a bucket of cold water.
I wait for the sting to come back, the bitterness, the anger, but it’s not there. Just a dull echo, like a song that’s faded from the charts.
“Ing,” he says, loping toward me. Yes, the man lopes. It’s annoying as fuck. “How are you?”
Notthe show was incredible. Good work. You were great.Of course not. Getting a compliment from him was like pulling teeth. Jake never liked this version of me. Glitter, sequins, stadium tours. He thought I was wasting myself, selling out. He never quite said the words, but it was always in his eyes.
“Great, actually.” My voice comes out brighter than I feel. “We’re finally on the last leg of the tour. Just a couple more weeks.” I hesitate, then throw him a crumb. “Madison said you’re here working on a movie?”
“Just a little indie film.” He props himself against a chair like he owns the room. “I thought maybe we could grab some dinner. Either out somewhere or back at your hotel if you’re tired from the show.”
“Dinner,” I repeat, flat.
“Yeah. A chance for us to catch up.” His head tilts knowingly, the move rehearsed. “Talk over a few things.”
