CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Hendrix
Jase:Need a ride, wife? I hear today was quite the day.
The irritation bubbling in my chest cracks just enough for a laugh to escape.
Of course, he’d be this smug about it. Of course, he wouldn’t care that the media just plastered our faces everywhere. Or that his wife looks like a hot mess—ponytail falling, makeup faded, expression tired—as she works all day. He’s used to this. The stares. The sense of feeling like a caged animal.
The admiration.
Different from what I was on the receiving end of today because it comes with the territory.
I hesitate, thumb hovering over the keyboard, when another text comes in.
Jase:I come bearing food. Don’t make me eat alone. What will the media write if they see that? He’s bad in bed? She can’t take it all? I mean...
Damn him. I crack a smile and some of the exhaustion eases from my shoulders. I look at the cookies all around me. The empty spaces where they were when I started this morning and now need to be replenished. The eggs sitting in the fridge and the flour in its bins waiting for me to take them out and make more. I know what I’m going to do before I even type.
Me: You’re insufferable.
Jase:And yet, you’re gonna say yes.
I sigh, shaking my head and groaning. This is going to put me back even further and yet... how can I say no? How can I—
Beep. Beep.
The horn sounds off in the back alley and echoes through the closed security screen door. Before I can even reach it to see what’s going on, Sammy is there opening it for me and looking around.
I will say it’s definitely nice not to have to worry about leaving here at night. For the most part, the neighborhood I’m in is safe, but between the alley, the shady characters that sometimes loiter in it, and now all of Jase’s curious fans, having Sammy here is a definite bonus.
But the thought vanishes when the car comes into view.
Sleek. Black. Expensive.
The passenger-side window rolls down, and there he is—Jase, one arm slung over the steering wheel, his hair a little mussed, like he’s been dragging his fingers through it. The streetlights catch on the ink lining his forearm, the silver glint of his rings.
How is it possible to have forgotten how gorgeous he is? How is it fathomable that I would have ever looked at him and thought he wasn’t my type?
Perfect case of don’t judge a book by its cover.
And in this case, he’s temporarily mine.
He smirks, like he already knows the kind of day I’ve had.
“Need a ride, Cookie?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the way my lips twitch. “Hmm. I’m pretty sure my husband might not be too thrilled with the idea of me getting in the car with some dark and mysterious man.”
“I think I can take him.”
“Really?”
Jase taps his chin, considering. “In fact, I know I can.” He looks over his shoulder and then back to me. “Quick. Get in before he finds out.”
He winks and I shake my head. Within seconds I have the bakery locked up, my purse in hand, and yank open the passenger door and slide inside. God, is this the first time I’ve sat down today ?
His scent wraps around me instantly—clean, musky, and just a little like leather.
Jase looks at me for a beat, eyes flicking over my flour-dusted shirt, the tension still clinging to my shoulders. His voice is the exact opposite of how he looks when he speaks, “Rough day?”
I sink into the seat, letting my head fall back. “You have no idea.”
His smirk fades into something almost... compassionate. He reaches for the radio, scrolling through stations until soft rock filters through the speakers, like he knows I need something easy.
Like he actually sees me.
And just like that, the panic I’ve been holding on to all day loosens its grip. With him, I feel safe from this chaos. Or if it’s not safe, then maybe the feeling is understood. Regardless, he gets it and that’s comforting in and of itself.
Jase puts the car in drive and gives me some time to let the fact that today actually happened—that this is happening—without speaking. I close my eyes and just let the music soothe me and find an odd contentment in him quiet beside me.
“We were in the studio all day. I didn’t have my phone on because... simply because I’m not used to having anyone need me.” He pauses but I keep my eyes closed, lulled by the sound of his voice. “I didn’t realize news had hit until we went to leave.”
“Well, it did,” I murmur.
“You didn’t text me.”
I open my eyes and study him as he drives, pondering his statement. “Was I supposed to?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” He glances my way and then back to the road. For a man who always seems sure of himself, he’s suddenly lost his footing. It’s cute.
“What does that mean?”
He blows out a sigh like he’s trying to find his words. “You’re a fascinating woman.”
“Oh?”
“You have bouts of insecurity but then today happens—your whole life shifts—and you just, according to Sammy, handle it like a goddamn pro. That takes a lot of guts and a shit ton of fortitude. I’m proud of you.” He reaches out and puts his hand on my thigh and squeezes to reinforce his words. “I guess I thought you’d text because you needed me to come and... I don’t know. Help you? Rescue you?” He huffs out a laugh and removes his hand from my leg to run it through his hair before setting right back on it. “That sounds ridiculous. I’m fully aware.”
“That’s sweet of you. I was so busy, I didn’t have a single second to spare. Besides, what are you going to do other than make the situation more chaotic?”
“I know but helpless doesn’t look good on any man and that’s how I felt today when I found out you were fending off everyone on your own.” He glances over at me and his Adam’s apple bobs.
“It was chaotic but I’m pretty sure that will be the norm for a while.”
“But you said it was busy? That’s good, right? More sales? More business?”
“Yes, the Gizmo effect apparently.”
He chuckles but I keep thinking about his hand on my thigh and how his thumb absently brushes back and forth like it’s a habit. And that makes me think of his hands last night and exactly how capable they are.
I try to refocus. To redirect.
“Hey. I thought you said there was food?” My stomach growls as if on cue. The car doesn’t smell like food and I turn around to look behind us at the seats. There is nothing.
“We’re almost to the restaurant.”
“Jase?” I look out the window for the first time and see we’re in the Wilshire Boulevard area and cringe.
“The hottest new couple has to be seen now, don’t they? Or at least that’s what I’m being told.”
“Jase.” The first time I said his name it was a question. This time was a warning. “You couldn’t have given me a little heads-up?” I grumble, yanking down the visor mirror to assess the damage. Flour dusts the front of my shirt, a smudge of buttercream clings to my wrist, and my hair is still twisted in a messy knot, ponytail, something or other from working.
Jase smirks from the driver’s seat. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I shoot him a glare. “You could’ve at least let me change. I look like... I just wrestled a sack of flour.”
He shrugs, totally unbothered. “You’re with me. Who cares?”
And totally like a person used to being adored even when a picture is taken that paints him in the ugliest of angles.
He looks ridiculously good in his black tee and leather jacket, like he just casually rolled off the cover of Rolling Stone .
I groan, slumping in my seat. “They’re gonna think you picked me up off the street .” I look exactly like the mess the mean girls said I am . I’m feeling blindsided... again. And desperately trying not to care.
And failing at it.
“Well, that might put a dent in the whole make Jase look wholesome thing we’re aiming for if I’m picking up prostitutes for dinner.”
“Whoa. I mean homeless. Not a prostitute,” I joke and slap at his leg. “Thanks a lot.”
He grabs my hand so I can’t hit his leg anymore and glances at me, his lips twitching. “Nah, they’re gonna wonder how the hell I landed the hottest woman in this restaurant.”
My stomach flips. It’s ridiculous that it does because I live in reality and know exactly how I look—like a hot mess—while he’s trying to boost my ego. And yet, I find myself biting my lip, fighting back a smile.
Right up until we pull in line for the valet in front of The Vine. It’s an upscale restaurant that screamswe take reservations three months in advance with paparazzi permanently camped out across the street with their cameras.
It’s the place to go and be seen, and Jase is doing just that—being seen. Showing off his new wife for the world to see her.
Fuck.
Just fuck.