Page 53 of Behind the Net

He regrets saying yes to this, I realize. He made the deal with me before we kissed. My stomach plummets. What if he thinksI thinkthis is a date?

“This isn’t a date,” I tell him when he climbs into the car.

He stares at me like I’m a bug on the sidewalk. “I know.” His tone is pissed and resentful.

He pulls out of the parking garage and onto the street. It’s raining, and Jamie’s bad mood is making me feel like tonight is already a mistake.

“We haven’t talked about having overnight guests,” he says out of the blue.

I whirl toward him, giving him a strange look. “Huh?” I choke out a laugh. “What are you talking about?”

I can’t evenimaginebringing a guy home. Where would I find one? After what happened with Zach, the idea of taking my clothes off for a guy, letting him touch me… My stomach churns. I hate that idea.

My mind flicks to the guy beside me, all broad shoulders, thick hair, sharp jaw. His delicate fingers brushing my ankle. The low, needy groan I heard through the wall.

I didn’t mind him touching me.

His nostrils flare as he shoulder-checks and changes lanes. His eyes are on the road, and the air in the car is thick with tension. “Daisy wouldn’t like it.”

I’m speechless. I don’t know whether to laugh or punch him in the face. “Daisy loves visitors,” I say without thinking.

The look he gives me could burn my skin off.

I don’t even know what to say to him right now. We drive the rest of the way to the party in a weird, tense silence, and I’m regretting this more by the second. This party is going to be so awkward. On the street in front of the restaurant where the party is, he finds a parking spot.

“Stay there,” he barks before getting out and opening the trunk.

I’m getting irritated. He agreed to come with me, and now he’s being a dick. I don’t want to do this—I just want to go home.

He opens my door, and I’m about to inform him that we’re going back, but he opens an umbrella and gestures for me to step out. He holds it high above my head, frowning at my hair.

“Don’t want your hair to get wet.”

Something in my chest lifts at the picture of him standing there, waiting for me. I’m a grown woman who can take care of herself, but between him helping me with my shoes, putting my coat on me, and now trying to keep my hair dry, I’m melting into a puddle.

I hate to keep comparing him to Zach but can’t help myself—Zach expected everyone to take care of him, and it only got worse as time went on. My throat tightens as I remember Zach asking me where his coffee was one morning, like I was his employee. I guess I was, because I worked on the tour, but that wasn’t my job.

“What’s going on with you?” I ask as rain taps on the umbrella above us.

His throat works as he looks down at me. We’re standing close, and he smells delicious.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes pin me, raking over my hair, my face, my collarbone. “You look beautiful.”

Something in me relaxes, and I smile up at Jamie, looking so handsome. I literallyamhis employee, and yet he’s the one treating me with care and attention.

He’s this way with everyone, a wry voice reminds me. Jamie Streicher takes care of everyone in his life, and I’m not special.

“Let’s go,” he says, guiding me to the front door of the restaurant with his hand on my lower back.

My stomach dips, and it’s hitting me now. Zach is inside, and I have to pretend what he did didn’t bother me at all.

I feel sick.

“Hey.” Jamie looks down at me, studying my face. “Don’t let them see you scared, songbird.”

My throat tightens as I gaze up at him. Whatever weirdness there was back in the car falls away, and the look he’s giving me is just like when he encouraged me to get on stage in the bar. Like he believes in me.

I nod at him. “Yeah. Okay.”

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