17. Jasper
17
JASPER
“Ladies. It’s been a pleasure.” I stroll back to the trio of women, a bright spot of neon in the neutral aesthetic of The Coffee Shop. “But I’m off to work.” I give them a little salute and stroll toward the front door with a little pep in my step.
“See you around, Jagger,” Mrs. Shepley calls out with a wave.
I flick my fingers back at them and push open the door, letting the warm summer air hit me in the face. The humidity adheres to my skin instantly, but nothing is gonna bring my mood down now.
Taking a sip of my coffee, I pull up her text and thumb out a reply.
Me: I thought you deleted my number. Isn’t that what you said last year?
Coraline: I did. I had to call Hawke to get it. Where are you so I can yell at you in person.
I ignore the pang of jealousy that rips through me at that little piece of information.
Me: Funny. I don’t remember you being such a brat.
Coraline: Funny. I don’t remember you being such an asshole.
Me: Ouch, baby. You’re going to hurt my feelings.
Coraline: Doubtful.
Me: I think what you mean is “thank you, Jagger, for being my knight in shiny leather. As repayment for your bravery and kindness, here are a dozen strawberry shortcakes”
Coraline: Taking someone’s car IS an asshole move!
Coraline: Actually it’s theft. I should call the sheriff and report you.
Me: No need to call the sheriff, I’ve got handcuffs we can use if you want. I could be into a little role play.
She doesn’t respond right away.
Coraline: Yeah. I remember.
My brows dip low between my eyes and the back of my neck feels hot. I don’t have to try hard to think back to my time with Coraline Carter on my arm. It left a mark on me, regardless of how brief our time was together.
So I can say with certainty that we never used handcuffs. To be honest, we didn’t fuck around all that much, and not for my lack of interest. And right when I thought we were gonna take it to the next level, she ended things.
Me: What’s that supposed to mean?
Coraline: Nothing. Forget it, okay? Where’s my car
Coraline: Please, Jagger.
My heart thumps inside my chest. Coraline Carter is a lot of things, but willingly saying please? To me ? Hell must have frozen over. Worry nestles between my shoulder blades, and I switch over to another text thread. Maybe something happened this morning, after I left.
I waver for a second as I walk down Main Street. I asked Hawke for this favor before I realized he was friendly with her, but I’m sure as hell not going to ask someone else now.
Me: Hey, man, did you set up that security yet?
Hawke: Bro.
Hawke: It’s eight o’clock in the fucking morning.
I roll my eyes. I should’ve expected this. It’s basically his standard response if I ever reach out before ten a.m. But the irony is, we both start at the garage around eight-thirty on Mondays and seven thirty the rest of the week. He’s a real fucking peach until lunch time most days.
Me: Get your shit together and get over there. I want it done by lunchtime today, yeah?
Hawke: Damn, Jagger. You pullin rank on me now?
He’s not wrong. I do outrank him within the club. It’s not something that means much of anything anymore, but I’m not above using it to my advantage if I need to. And I very much feel like I need to.
Me: Just get it done and get your ass to work.
Hawke: *salute emoji*
I switch over to my text with Coraline.
Me: It's at the garage.
When she doesn’t answer, I tuck my phone back in my pocket and continue my walk back to RGRC.
I don’t mind. I’m a patient man.
I take my time, enjoying the way the sun beats down against my back and letting the caffeine do its job. The birds sing to one another and there’s low chatter of kids playing at the nearby park. I spent at least an hour outside Coraline’s house last night, and I wasn’t shy about it. I parked in front of her house, in plain view of what I know is her bedroom window.
And not because I’ve been invited inside. I just do my fucking homework.
But I couldn’t leave without making sure she didn’t get any immediate unwanted visitors. Now I'm second-guessing my decision to leave after ninety minutes. Maybe I should’ve just camped out in her front yard. Wouldn’t have been the first time I slept outside.
By the time I left my post outside her house, I decided to crash at the clubhouse. Plus, it gave me a reason to have one of the guys grab The Titan, our badass tow truck, and get her car from outside Grand Avenue and bring it to the garage. I know she said she’d call one of her brothers to help, but that just seems unnecessary when I’m available. And maybe it’s a good excuse to see her again.
While I was standing watch, I did some digging on her asshole ex, just to make sure I know what I’m up against. I first looked him up months ago. My curiosity got the better of me when I saw them out in Avalon Falls. So I decided to look into him. Just enough to feign casual interest. Last night, I went deeper.
Turns out Grant Lawson isn’t as squeaky clean as he pretends to be. A few bad bets he couldn’t cover at The Alley—Avalon Falls’s very own underground racing circuit. Two restraining orders that were later canceled and removed from his record.
I’m a block away when I succumb to the urge and slip my phone from my pocket. No new texts from her. I swipe open my socials, and would you look at that, Coraline’s post is the first thing I see. Could be because she’s the only account I follow, but I’m still taking it as a sign from fate. The caption stops me in my tracks, a smile quirking up one side of my mouth.
I Forgot That You Existed.
Now, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was in reference to me. But I do know better, which means I know exactly who the dig is aimed toward.
A newly prospected Hunter.
But more unfortunately, her ex-boyfriend.
I’m not sure what I find most offensive: the idea of him and I being in shared company or that she dated him at all.
I realize how ridiculous that sounds, especially considering our shared past. But feelings are wild, unruly things. And despite my best efforts to never let them permanently attach, sometimes they do.
And Coraline Carter is the most permanent feeling I have.
Which is why I know she’s going to storm into RGRC any minute now, breathing fire at everyone who stands in her way. Sometimes I wonder if there’s something kind of fucked up about me that I welcome her bite. That when she snarks at me like that, it smooths some of the rough edges of this twisted, burned thing inside my chest.
I hear her the moment the compound’s gates come into view, a grin tugging my mouth up in the corners. My girl is punctual .
“What do you mean I can’t ? Do you know who I am?” her voice does that incredulous thing again.
Fuckin’ weird that it gets my dick hard. Must be some kind of Coraline kink.
I can’t see who she’s talking to, but I did tell the prospects on the gate this morning not to let her inside the compound until I’m back. Can’t have her snatching her car before I tell her what happened. I make a mental note to send whoever she’s snapping at a coffee on me.
“I don’t give a shit what he told you. I’m telling you that if you don’t let me in and give me my car right this second, I’m calling the Sheriff!”
“C’mon, baby, you don’t need to bother them,” I drawl. “Monday mornings are tough on everyone, yeah?”
She whips around so fast, her hair slaps her in the face. “You,” she growls.
“You lookin’ for me, baby?”
“Cut the shit, Jagger. You wanted me here. So here I am.” She throws her hands out and lets them fall to her thighs with a slap. My gaze zeroes in on her bare thighs, a hint of a tattoo peeking out from underneath the frayed hem of her dress.
“No shortcakes today?” I grin at her.
“Where is my car.” It’s not exactly a question, accusation bleeding from her gaze.
I nod toward the prospect, Rocks. “I’ll take care of it from here, man. C’mon, Cora, this way.”
“I know the way,” she grumbles, stomping around me and stalking toward RGRC.
I drink the rest of my coffee, excitement sparking my body to life as I follow behind her. She stalks into the small office in the front of the garage, whirling around to face me the second my feet cross the threshold.
“You wanna tell me why I looked like a complete idiot this morning after I bargained with my brothers to pick up my car and surprise, it wasn’t there?” She jerks her arm out wide, as if she’s showcasing the car. “And it’s somehow here.”
I lean against the doorframe, crossing one booted foot over the other and look at her. God she looks fucking magnificent like this. All amped up, ready to breathe fire down on anyone who gets in her way. Wearing a white summer dress with her hair wild around her face like some kind of mane, black and white checkered Vans on her feet.
She’s fucking perfect.
For this ruse I’ve cooked up, I mean.
“Why.” She lets her hand drop to her side, curling into a fist. “Are you smiling like that.”
I push off the doorframe and cross the office without answering her. Tipping the coffee cup back, I swallow the last few drops and toss it. It lands inside the garbage can with a thud.
“Where are you going?” She sounds exasperated.
“I want to show you something.”
“If this is some kind of joke, just know that I’m going to march up to my cousin’s house and rat you out faster than you can blink.”
Her cousin’s house , she says, I think with a chuckle. What she really means is my Prez’s house. Since they’re married . But it makes her feel good to lob a threat at me, so I give it to her.
Her car sits in the middle of the first bay with the hood open and some tools scattered around. Sleep wouldn’t come easy this morning, so I decided to be productive instead. I gave up around five and decided to get to work. I’m almost done, but I’m not ready to give it back to her. Not until she hears my proposal.
“Wanted to show you that I’m working on your car.”
Some of the wind leaves her sails as she deflates a little. “You don’t have to do that. I didn’t ask you to.”
I dip my chin toward my chest. “I know. But it’s the boyfriend thing to do.”
“Jagger . . .” she hedges.
“Jasper,” I correct.
She shakes her head, her eyes squinting. “What?”
“As my girlfriend, it’s important for you to know my real name.”
Her brows crowd low over her eyes and she stares at me like I’m speaking a foreign language.
“Why didn’t you tell me that before? When we were—” She waves her hand in the air, fluttering her fingers to fill in the blank.
“Because you weren’t my girlfriend then.” I keep my answer simple even though there’s more to say. I have so much more to say. But I’m trying to sway her to my side here, and I know I won’t do that by going down memory lane.
“But I’m not your girlfriend now?” She says it like a question, tilting her head to the side. “Are you okay?”
I push off the tool bench. “I’m doing great. See, I had some time to think last night?—”
“When you were camped outside my house like a stalker,” she interjects, her tone dry.
Ah, so she did see me. I shrug. “When I was playing the role of your boyfriend. Quite well, actually.”
“What’s your point,” she says with a huff.
“It worked, didn’t it?”
She tosses her hair over her shoulder and glances around the garage. “Well, yeah. But that was just last night. I was in a bad situation, and it was a . . . temporary role.”
Bad situation . She doesn’t know half of it. “What if it wasn’t?”
She stills, her gaze flying to mine. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that we should make this more permanent.”
“What?” she gasps.
“Our fake relationship.”