2. JENSEN
2
G uess I'm just begging for trouble, 'cause when her blazing eyes meet mine, I can't help but wonder why the heck I keep throwing myself in her spotlight.
“Hey, are you okay?” I narrow my eyes at Rae, sensing the clear shock on her face when her eyes trail down to her wrist caught in my palm.
Her brows move up at my concern, as if I caught her off guard. But any confusion is completely replaced by one of her famous glares when she throws a curious glance at the brunette still pressed against my body.
Fuck.
The judgment is dripping from her face, forming an amused smile in the corner of my mouth as I stare into her brown eyes, knowing exactly what’s coming. They sparkle in the dim lights of the hallway, with specks of gold glistering at me like fireworks. Within a split second, they flash with anger, resulting in a deep exhale from my chest.
There she is.
“I’m fine, Jensen,” she snarls. “Although, since my resignation doesn't officially start until tomorrow, I feel obligated to mention that is not the wisest thing to do.”
She points at the girl with disdain, then yanks her wrist from my grip to continue her way to the bathroom, leaving as fast as she appeared and storming off like a damn tornado.
It’s tempting to let her go and cool off until the next time she has the need to bust my balls for something, but unfortunately for me, I’m always more tempted to poke the pretty blonde just a little more.
“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath, glancing at the girl clinging on my arm. “You should go.”
A glare is aimed at me for the second time in thirty seconds, and I ignore the shrieking of “what the fuck” when I push her to the side, then I rapidly trail behind Rae stomping farther down the hall.
A jolt of electricity hits me right in the chest when I circle my arm around her waist to halt her, placing myself in front of her. Her chin moves up to look at me, all hot and fuming. She smells sweet, warm with a hint of….Tequila?
She drinks? For a brief moment, I just blink, taking in her haunted face as my heart jumps out of my chest in a rush, the reaction confusing the fuck out of me.
Dismissing the feeling, I let her go, cocking my head as she stares at me in question for stopping her once again.
“You’re upset,” I announce, roaming over the freckles of her nose and her now blushing cheeks. Her light blonde hair is braided, hanging loosely over her shoulder, and I resist the urge to reach up and feel the silky strands between my fingers. Her eyes darken in suspicion as she straightens her shoulders, putting her poised stance back in place. No doubt preparing for our usual bickering.
She’s hot. Always a treat to look at, with a snarky mouth that both pisses me off and amuses me. I love to ruffle her feathers and push her limits. We’d be a good match if there wasn’t one problem; we don’t get along.
Ever.
Yet I’m like a moth to a flame when it comes to Rae Stafford, because no matter how much she scolds me about an endless list of habits I need to kick to improve my ‘attitude’ , I’m always hungry for more of whatever craps comes out of her plump lips.
“Don’t worry about it, Jensen. Just make sure you don’t end up on TMZ with your tongue in a brunette that’s not your girlfriend,” she sighs dramatically.
Showing my irritation with an arrogant smirk, I take a step closer to grab her hip with one hand, bringing the other up to cup her cheek. Confliction shadows her face when I bring mine closer, and her lips part in anticipation, even though her eyes keep glaring at me.
I frustrate her. I can see it every time she’s yelling at me for flirting with a girl that isn’t my girlfriend, or when she shoves another press statement in my hands to fix whatever thing I fucked up. She always stays professional, never dropping her perfect act, but I can see the annoyance in her almond-shaped eyes. They’re beautiful as fuck when she’s mad at me.
And I feed off of it like a psychopath.
“Why?” I hum, our noses almost touching. “Should I go for a blonde instead?”
She softly gasps for air, and when I look in her eyes once more, she bites her lip, staring at me through her thick lashes.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Seduction is seeping through her voice as a challenging smile ghosts her soft pink lips, putting my dick on high alert.
This time it's my eyes that widen in confusion, not sure if I heard her correctly, but I’m all here for it. My grip on her hip becomes more demanding, as I press the tips of my fingers into the fabric of her black jeans, with a clear vision in my mind. A flirty counter is sitting on my tongue, eager to push this a little farther, when she suddenly rolls her eyes at me, and the moment is gone.
Fuck.
“You know what?” She throws her hands in the air, stepping out of my grasp. “I don’t care anymore. Do whatever you want. Fuck whoever you want. I hope you at least have the decency to tell Emily she will never be enough, but then again, none of you ever do,” she spits, referring to my girlfriend, then quickly darts past me toward the fire exit with big strides.
Fuck.
“Rae!” I call out, rubbing a hand over my face.
I want to go after her, ask her if she’s alright again, but instead, I watch her perfect ass stomp away with swaying hips while I clench my jaw in regret. The look on her face as she stormed past me told me she was already upset about something.
I should’ve just let her go, but when she’s in front of me, I just can’t help myself. I have the need to push her buttons, trying to make her lose control of her perfect act. It annoys the shit out of me that she’s always composed and poised.
I want to push out the side she doesn’t show anyone. A side that’s wild and thrilling, that says trouble in the best sense of the word. A side that matches the spark in her champagne brown eyes.
I crave to see that side of her.
She never snaps, though. God knows I’ve tried hard enough to find ways to piss her off. Making comments to the press. Flirting with a few girls too many. For the last five years, she has been up my ass about every girl I talk to, accusing me of all sorts of shit. I didn’t even deny it, just because I liked to see her worked up, to get her eyes shooting daggers at me.
I get under her skin, and I like it. Having this asshole curiosity inside of me that’s wondering just how thick her skin really is. Like a piece of glass that I just want to crack. But other than the returning scowl, she’s been able to keep a straight face every single time.
Calm, steady, professional.
It’s fucking annoying.
After Rae has disappeared through the door, I turn my head and see the brunette who originally had my attention. Glaring at me.
Obviously .
“Sorry about that.” I smirk, sauntering back toward her like nothing happened.
She huffs in response, flipping her hair like a diva as she storms off with a thundercloud above her head. I shrug, laughing, because I can’t really blame her, but I also can’t be bothered to chase her.
Deciding I need another drink, I stroll to the bar to order another bourbon, when a familiar face takes the barstool next to me.
“You’re late, mate .” Glaring at my best friend over the loud music, I throw my phone in front of me on the bar top.
He’s wearing a black dress shirt, and his brown hair is combed back, making him look slick instead of like the nice guy that he is. You would swear he was a Wall Street banker or something instead of a publishing book nerd.
“What the fuck are you wearing, Bodi? This is a party, not a wedding,” I taunt, bringing my drink to my lips.
“Don’t mock my sophisticated look, mate . I don’t need to put on a tight shirt to get some attention,” he counters with his thick Australian accent.
A ghost of a smile forms on my lips. “That’s because you’ve got nothing to show off.” Taking another sip, I turn around and lean against the bar.
Raising a hand in the air, he grabs the attention of the bartender to order a drink, then glances at my dark blue shirt that’s hugging my torso with an unimpressed look.
Even though we have been best friends since we were twelve, we couldn’t be more opposite. He is a handsome librarian. I am a rough hockey player.
He wants to make the world a better place. I just want the world to leave me the fuck alone. Especially the world of public scrutiny I grew up in.
“In the end, I want a woman who wants me for my brain instead of my ripped body that will most likely disappear around age fifty,” he points out, stirring his Jack and Coke.
I snort before a fake cough comes from my throat. “ Pussy .”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Did you see the show?” He changes the subject, something of mischief dancing in his gaze.
“What show?”
“PR girl slapped Kent.” A wide smile spreads across his face, his drink hanging mid-air as he waits for my reaction.
“Rae? Rae Stafford? She slapped him?” I frown, incredulously. “What? When?”
Dots are starting to connect in my brain, and suddenly, I realize why she was all worked up.
“Yup.” He looks over the rim of his glass with a knowing look.
“Like across the face?”
“Bitch-slapped.”
I blow out a whistle in awe, a weird feeling of satisfaction forming in my chest.
“No shit. Why?” The question leaves my lips, followed by a heavy sigh, regretting pissing her off some more after that happened.
“Something about him wanting to get back together and her telling him to fuck off.” He shrugs. “She stormed off after that.”
I nod, tipping my head back in appreciation.
Good for her.
When word got out that she broke up with Sean, I figured it was only a matter of time before he got his ass kicked by her, because it was a given more skeletons were about to pop out of the closet. When nothing happened over the last few weeks, I was starting to believe she didn’t have it in her.
I guess I was wrong. I said enough to her to deserve a solid bitch-slap, though I never got one. But Sean did. I’m not sure if I should be disappointed about that, but I am a little. I always wondered what would happen if you pushed that girl over the edge, and even though I’m not keen on getting slapped by a girl, I’d like to be the one who makes her lose control.
To burst her perfect bubble.
“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Bodi looks at me with raised eyebrows.
“I’m just surprised.” I shrug. “Normally, nothing can make her fall out of line.”
“You mean, nothing you have ever tried made her fall out of line.”
I snicker, bringing my glass to my lips. “Yeah, that too.”
“Your mother called me.”
I choke on my bourbon, my gut tightening at Bodi’s words.
“My mother?” I almost sprain my neck facing him.
This can’t be good.
He nods, agreeing, then moves his glass to his lips with a big smirk, though I’m not sure what’s funny about my mother calling. She only calls if she’s pissed, or she needs something. Usually, both.
“What the fuck? Why?” I don’t have a very warm bond with my mother. She mostly annoys the shit out of me because she wants to control every single thing in my life. Not because she is the caring, loving kind; you know, the kind of mother that waits for you when you get out of school with cookies and milk. Or even the kind that sits in the front row of the school play.
No, being the perfect politician’s wife, Kathleen Jensen, nothing matters more than her status. She won’t even let her baby boy stain that. She actually said that to my face more than once. And she still couldn’t understand why she had an eight-year-old with uncontrollable anger issues.
Go figure.
“Because you won’t pick up the goddamn phone,” he scolds as his brows knit together.
“There is a very good reason for that,” I start, then pause for a brief moment. “I’m avoiding her.”
I can’t ignore my mother forever, but I’ve been doing a great job of it for the last two weeks.
“Yeah, well, so was I. But somehow, she was coming through my phone anyway.”
“Fuck, rather you than me,” I mutter, turning my gaze back to my glass.
“You are such a good friend— asshole .”
“Hey, you are my best friend. I would kill for you.” I offer him a dramatic look as he glares at me, unimpressed. “I’d die for you. But when it comes to Kathleen Jensen? It's every man for himself. Just ask my brother. I learned these tactics from him.”
“Great, next time I’ll stay home when your parents throw another elite party or some shit they are forcing you to attend.”
I snap my head toward his, gaping. He replies with a satisfied grin, successfully cornering me. There is only one thing worse than having to attend my parents' official functions and that’s attending them without my best friend talking shit about everyone who passes by.
“You’re right, I am an asshole. Please don’t leave me.” I pout.
“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes. “You didn’t tell me your old man is running for governor.”
I sigh with a dismissive shrug. “Why do you think I’m avoiding my mother?”
When my mother told me my dad was planning to run for governor, I knew a whole list of demands was about to be fired upon me. They allowed me to become an NHL-player, but they’d never allow me to stray further than that.
I can be the rebel out of their three children, but only if it doesn’t jeopardize my father’s political career. In interviews, they are asked about my career and answer the questions with a proud voice. But really, they mostly care about where I live, how I live, and who I’m dating, to make sure their perfect picture stays intact.
Ordering another bourbon to numb my senses, I search his face. “What did she want, anyway?”
“To ask when you will propose to Emily,” Bodi calmly answers like he’s asking me to take the trash out.
Hairs stand up on the back of my neck, panic gripping my heart and a lump forming in the back of my throat as I watch the face of my girlfriend flash before my eyes. She’s hot. She’s sweet. Sometimes . My mom loves her. She fits the perfect picture.
But proposing right now? That freaks me the fuck out. I’m not even sure I want to get married. Marriage reminds me of my parents. If that is called a marriage? Happily ever after? Till death do us part?
Fuck no, I’ll pass.
“Not anytime soon,” I mumble , grabbing the fresh drink from the bar. I take a sip, welcoming the feeling of the liquid burning through my chest. The searing sensation doing a good job of pushing the panic to the back of my head.
“She called to ask you that ?” I ask when he stays quiet.
Knowing it’s my mother, there must be more. Kathleen Jensen always wants something. When she gets you to agree on one thing, you better prepare for whatever else she still has up her sleeves.
“ That, and if you could hurry the fuck up because she wants to book the venue for the engagement party.”
“Engagement party?” I blurt, louder than I intended.
My eyes alarmingly flash around to make sure nobody heard me. The last thing I need is for TMZ to announce my engagement tomorrow. An engagement that won’t happen in the first place.
“When you will be coming home,” Bodi continues, unaffected, “and what you would think of a September wedding.”
“It’s July?!” I screech, my panic attack coming back at full force.
I look at Bodi with widened eyes, my heart now jumping out of my chest for a whole different reason than before. The smirk on his face tells me he’s enjoying this way too much.
“The woman is insane.”
“She is your mother.” He chuckles.
“An engagement party? A September wedding?” I move my head closer to Bodi’s, making sure no one overhears. “She doesn’t even bother to ask if I want to marry. Fucking crazy woman. She is out of her mind.”
I slightly shake my head.
My mother has always been controlling, telling me no, forcing me to fall in line. I always have, scared that if I don’t, she’d put all her attention on my baby sister. Who as of right now, is still enjoying high school as a normal teenager instead of being prepped into my mother’s daunting footsteps. Well, as much as normal can be when you’re living in a penthouse in New York and going to private school.
But this time she’s taking it to another level. You can tell me to be somewhere, to wear a suit and act accordingly. But telling me to get married? And when? That one is new.
It’s also not going to happen.
I stay quiet for a while, feeling the panic being replaced by irritation boiling up inside of me. It pisses me off. A lot. I’m so sick of my parents bossing everyone around. Bossing me around. They may have married to enhance my father’s career, knowing appearance is everything in politics, but that doesn’t mean it’s what I want.
I glance at Bodi when I feel his worried gaze on me. I know he doesn’t like my mother, this being the main reason. He butts heads with her all the time, pissing her off every time he gets the chance. But he supports me, stands by me, like the selfless friend that he is, even though he always questions why I do what she says most of the time.
“What the fuck did you tell her?”
His face lights up and a smug grin stretches among his cheeks, telling me I’ll probably enjoy whatever comes out of his mouth next.
“I told her you’d probably burn the house down to avoid ever coming home if she would dare to ask those questions again.”
A smile splits my face. “My hero.”
Then he adds with a straight face, “I also told her the Botox must have damaged her brain if she thought your wedding was going to be a high society event. Then she started yelling and swearing all kinds of things. It was quite entertaining.”
Snorting to keep my drink in, I laugh, my eyes locked with his in admiration.
“She really went all in after I told her your wedding would probably be in Las Vegas. Or some southern barn. If there would be a wedding at all. I think I mentioned something about how you’d rather have a baby out of wedlock than ever get married.”
He keeps a stoic face. “She yelled something about Emily never going for that and then, after I asked her who was talking about Emily, I couldn’t make out any more words, so I hung up.” He downs the rest of his drink like a pro and turns his body toward the bar with a satisfied smile on his face, as I try to catch my breath, unable to stop laughing.
“You're welcome.”
“You are going in my will, you’ve earned it,’’ I joke when I’m able to breathe again.
“Thanks, buddy, but I think your new wife won’t go for that.’’ He winks, but there’s a serious tone in his voice. We can joke about this, but the truth is, the world has expectations. My mother has expectations. My father has expectations.
But so does my girlfriend.
“I’m never going to marry.”
Bodi pulls a face. “Then you might as well break up with Emily, because she will never go for that either,” he states matter-of-factly. “Did you talk to her about it? About marriage?”
“She brought it up a few times. Especially after McGee got married.” I pause. “I kinda brushed the subject away.”
Bodi keeps his eyes fixated on me, silently asking me for more than that.
“I like Emily. My parents love her. She’s the perfect fit for my family.”
“But is she the perfect fit for you?”
Looking up at the ceiling, I let out a grunt, annoyed he always asks the questions I don’t want to answer. “How the fuck would I know, Bodi?”
“I remember you telling Hunter a couple of times how he needed to get his head out of his ass.” I hate the know-it-all look he’s keeping trained on his glass.
“Yeah, and ?”
A hard gaze crashes with mine. “ And practice what you preach, Jay.”
We stare at each other, my jaw ticking, when my phone vibrates on the bar in front of me.
A message appears on the screen, telling me Emily is sending me an image.
“Speaking of the devil,” I mumble, expecting some kind of half-naked pictures of herself from the photoshoot she was doing this afternoon, but instead, I cock my head when I look at the screen. I raise my eyebrow, not immediately knowing what I’m looking at until I recognize Rae’s pretty blonde braid on her shoulder. My hand is on her cheek, and we are standing so close, it looks like I’m an inch away from kissing her.
I survey the people around me, stunned, wondering who the fuck could have taken this picture while Bodi gives me a quizzical look.
“What is it?”
“It’s Emily,” I explain, when my phone pings again.
EMILY: I always knew you were fucking that PR trailer trash. Don’t come home. WE ARE DONE. Asshole.
Home. The word alone makes a sarcastic grin shower my face, since it’s my penthouse she’s referring to. But when I realize how this night is going to end, my annoyance level goes from zero to the moon.
“What in the hell?’’ I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, handing over my phone to Bodi.
I’m a flirt. I flirt. A lot.
I’ve been caught a little too close with some girl a whole number of times. I don’t act on it, but I like to flirt. I don’t fucking know why.
Maybe because I like challenges .
Emily knows this. She always stays.
“As long as you come home to me,” she literally once said. I have my suspicion she deep down doesn’t care as long as she can be with a Jensen. It wouldn’t even surprise me if she’d run off with my brother, if he would give her the chance.
I know this will be over in about three hours. She will fight me, slap me, forgive me, kiss me, fuck me, and all will be well in the world. We have done the circle about twenty times. But just thinking about it instantly triggers a headache, because I simply can’t be bothered to deal with it today.
“Fuck me. Is that Rae and you?” Bodi squeaks, wide-eyed.
“Yup.”
He looks closer at the picture, zooming in on the screen with his fingers, then brings his attention back to me, impressed, when he realizes this was fifteen minutes ago.
“You dirty bastard. Did you kiss her?” He chuckles, eyes beaming.
“You think Kent would be the only one who got slapped tonight if I did?” I huff. “Of course not, you moron. She probably would have chopped off my nuts before she left.’’
He lowers his head a little to lock his eyes with mine, holding up my phone in front of my face. “Yeah, right, she looks like she is really pissed.”
I bite my lip, looking at the picture, imagining how I would have kissed her. She doesn’t look as pissed as she normally is, and I still remember looking into her brown eyes. Instantly, my dick twitches in my jeans, my heart jumping with excitement. Pushing the strange feeling away, I snatch the phone out of his hand and put it back in my pocket.
“Guess I have to ignore my mother dearest a little longer.”
“Just forget about them. Forget about your mother. Forget about Emily. Let’s go away for a few days. Take a break? Get us settled on a nice beach, with cocktails and some new ass to tap? You won the Stanley Cup, and as of right now, you're a free man. Let’s take advantage of that for a few days and deal with this bullshit after we have some fun,” Bodi suggests, keeping a close eye on me.
That sounds damn tempting. To leave it all hanging and just enjoy ourselves in a foreign country. Somewhere hot. Getting wasted before noon, with cheap sunglasses perched on my head. But my father’s run for governor lingers in the back of my mind. As much as I want to tell my family to fuck off, I don’t want to make it harder on my siblings if I bail on my responsibilities.
Breaking up with my girlfriend and hiding out in a foreign country will definitely make it harder on my siblings.
“That is the best idea ever, but it will only postpone the shitstorm I’m going to get. Might as well get it over with.”
When Bodi doesn’t reply, I look at him, cursing the judgy look he’s giving me.
“He’s running for governor, Bodi,” I explain.
Bodi wheezes, disappointed, but doesn’t push any further. “So now what?”
“Now, I’ll do what I always do.” I pour the last of my drink down my throat and slam the glass on the bar, ready to call it a night. “I fix it.”
Even though I really don’t want to.