Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
JAX
“Y ou’re outside of American Airlines, right?”
“Yes, I’m here. I won’t lose her. I’ll text when we’re on our way. Just concentrate on your appointment.”
“Thank you, baby.”
I disconnected the call and shoved the phone in my pocket. It’d probably be good for Madison if she was dropped off in the middle of nowhere, figuring out some survival skills that didn’t involve a personal assistant I was certain she had.
I grabbed the piece of paper I’d scribbled MADISON on and held it up, feeling like a douche and dreading the hour-long drive with a likely self-absorbed snob. I leaned against my latest purchase: my navy blue F-250 truck, which was nice and shiny now, but that would be short lived on the ranch. I’d worked to save the money to buy my truck and everything I owned. I couldn’t imagine the lack of character a person would have when they’d been given everything their entire life.
“Excuse me; I’m Madison.”
“You’re Madison?” As she nodded, my eyes were nearly blinded by the bright yellow overalls and her blue and purple tie-dye shirt. Her hair was in a ponytail and appeared to be dirty, which would normally be weird, but this chick was a walking advertisement for weird. To top off her look, on her feet were black and green fishing boots. She was wearing an outfit only a hobo would wear.WTF? Where was the jet-setting fashionista I’d seen all over social?And, no, fashionista is not a word in my normal vocabulary. I heard it from Daisy when she was describing Madison.
Did she knock her head and not remember she was made of cash? Or was this her trying to mock the people of Montana like a condescending mean girl? (Nobody I knew in Montana looked like this train wreck.)
“You’re Madison Clark?”
“Yes, my father was sending someone to pick me up, but I guess I didn’t realize it would be an Uber.” She leaned in close. “The thing is, I can’t afford you.”
“Excuse me?” What the hell was she saying?
“I guess I assumed he’d send someone he knew, not an Uber I’d have to pay for.”
As she moved her suitcase, it sprung open and looked like a clown closet had thrown up; more tie-dye shirts, tap shoes, and lots of denim stuff along with four cans of SpaghettiOs that bounced onto the sidewalk, one of which proceeded to roll under my truck. I had no words.
“Son of a bitch, my SpaghettiOs!”
In a split second, she dropped onto her stomach, and her head disappeared under my truck. I looked around, wondering if this was a hidden camera show. “The socialite fools the Uber driver,” but nothing.
She reappeared with the can in her hand and held it up as if she’d won a triathlon before hopping to her feet in front of me. We stood in silence for an odd moment before she cracked a grin, holding out the can for me to see.
“Are you familiar with SpaghettiOs?”
“Uh, yeah.” Again, WTF?
“This is some good shit.” She dropped to her knees and started putting clothing back into her suitcase. “Damn suitcase. Piece of garbage. This has happened four times today.”
I bent down to help her. “Looks like you found it in the dumpster.”
She started laughing.
“Maybe you should invest in a new one.”
She shook her head. “Not when you’re pinching pennies.”
What was going on? “Are you sure you’re Madison Clark ? You flew in from New York?”
She raised a brow. “Yes, it’s me. Do you want to see ID?”
“No, it’s okay. Uh, we Uber drivers can’t be too sure.”
She nodded. “Of course. I understand.”
We finished putting the clothing into the suitcase and stood up. “About that, like I was saying, I don’t think I can afford you or this drive to wherever the hell my father resides. Is there like a train or bus or something cheaper?”
Confusion consumed me. Again, I looked for a camera crew, but nothing was there. Was she a cheapskate who got richer and richer by trying not to pay for shit? Even in hideous yellow overalls and fishing boots, she looked hot. Her green eyes sparkled, and her cheeks flushed a little as I searched her face for the answer to whatever this was. Did she use her looks to get things the rest of us had to pay for? That was it; it had to be. And you know what? I could play this game too.
“Tell you what, this happens from time to time, and I do have other ways to deal with the cost of the ride.”
I tried to conceal my grin as I held her stare until her eyes grew wide.
“Oh my gosh, are you serious?”
I couldn’t tell if she found it to be disgusting or interesting. “Sure, lots of people live paycheck to paycheck. I’m here to help.”
She stood blinking at me with disbelief, and I literally could not wait to hear what words she would utter next. “So you have a menu or something to get the fare down? That has to be illegal.”
“It’s not illegal if you don’t get caught.” I raised my brows at the same time she furrowed hers. “Some just hit the appetizer menu for a moderate reduction, while others have the main entrée if you’re picking up what I’m laying down.”
She stared with disbelief shooting from her eyes. “I am shocked.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.” I gave her a wink. “If that’s how you like it.”
A gasp escaped her as she folded her arms across her chest. “I, uh, the more I think about it, my dad’s fiancé should be able to pay when we arrive. I hadn’t thought of that until this ghastly conversation occurred.” She cleared her throat and steered her nervous gaze away from me. “So, I won’t need to look at your menu.”
“Sounds good, but if you change your mind?—”
“No!” She inhaled. “I mean, no, I won’t be changing my mind.”
I gently grabbed the exploding suitcase and slid it into the back seat as she hopped into the front. I tried to shut the door for her, but she narrowed her eyes and pulled it closed on her own. Freaked her out. Yes, I’d freaked her out. Score for me.
Once I cranked up the truck, I got a glimpse of those damn fishing boots again, and curiosity was murdering the cat.
“I have to ask, what’s up with the swamp boots?”
She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m sure you’re unaware, but these boots are all over the Paris runway right now.”
“You have got to be shitting me.”
“Nope, you probably don’t keep up on those things. But I assure you, this spring, they’ll be everywhere .” She looked out the window.
“And the neon overalls and tie-dye?”
“Uh, yes. Yes, this summer is going to be super colorful. I’m normally ahead of the curve on these things, so rest assured, I am fucking on trend.” Her hand covered her mouth. “Oops, I apologize for the cursing. My bad.”
“No, I love swearing.” I dug how her eyes glimmered when she smiled. “You know, studies have shown that intelligent people swear more than stupid motherfuckers.”
She burst out laughing. A great laugh.
“A family member of mine says you swear if you care.”
“That should be on a T-shirt!” She slapped my arm with the back of her hand. “I love that. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I took a drink of my water.
“What’s it like to be an Uber-driving gigolo?”
Water shot out my nose, causing her to scream with laughter.
“OMG, are you okay?” She reached into her pocket. “I think I have a tissue.” Suddenly, out of her clown pocket came a bright green pair of big old panties. Before I could blink twice, she whipped them right out the window. “Nope, I don’t have a tissue.” She looked straight ahead.
“Did you just throw undies out the window?”
“Uh, no. That’s ridiculous.” She kept her eyes forward. “You sound crazy.”
“But I saw green?—”
“You saw nothing.” She loudly cleared her throat. “So, tell me, do you work as a solo gigolo, or do you have a posse who targets the airport?”
I glanced to the right to find her eyes locked on me, on the edge of her seat.
I nodded. “Oh, I work alone, always.”
She nodded and narrowed her eyes. “I see.”
We were riding through town when I heard clapping hands. “I see a coffee shop. Thank God, there’s coffee here.”
“You thought there was no coffee in Montana?”
She laughed. “I got the feeling my dad lived out in the boonies, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Can we stop really quick?”
“Sure.”
Her smile faded. “If we stop, can you shut off the meter? I don’t want my dad’s fiancé to have to pay any more than necessary.”
I pulled in front of the shop, and when I turned to look at her, I saw worry on her face, which confused the crap out of me. She seemed sweet, but why was she acting like she had nothing?
“Yes, I’ll pause the meter.”
She put up her finger. “And this won’t put any menu items into play?”
“No, you’re good.” I never expected Madison to be anything like this chick.
The coffee shop was in an old building with dark wood floors, little tables and chairs everywhere, and a long counter where a woman sat reading a book. Just beside her were a man and woman talking quietly.
“This is so stinking cute.”Her little nose wrinkled like this was some kind of happy surprise.
I followed her to the left, where there was a brightly colored room with antique coffee signs climbing up the walls, a few racks of clothing, and shelves containing everything from jewelry and coffee cups to scarves and art strategically placed so that no customer could miss them.
A gasp escaped Madison as she put her hands over her heart. “Adorable, adorable, adorable!”
She skipped over to the clothing, took a red dress, walked over to the full-length mirror, and held it over her outfit. “I love this!”
I leaned against the jewelry case. “You should try it on. Maybe give those overalls a rest.”
“For your information, overalls are all over the runway?—"
“Yeah, yeah, in Paris, they’re a hit. The French are strolling around town with their baguettes and cigarettes while sporting glow-in-the-dark overalls. But here in Montana, they’re mostly worn by Farmer Ted, not a pretty lady.”
She turned, and her mouth dropped open as she teased, “You think I’m pretty. The Uber-driving-gigolo from the airport thinks little old me is pretty.”
I held her gaze. “Yup.” I let the ‘p’ pop in a mocking sort of way.
Her cheeks crimsoned before she put the dress back on the rack. “Well, I’m not in Montana to shop. I need to stretch those dollars.”
She pulled out her phone and took a selfie beside the jewelry, and then made a silly face as she held up the dress and took another pic before she started pecking away at her phone. “What’s the name of this place, and where the hell are we?”
“Black Sheep Coffee, Springfield, on Platteview Road.”
She pecked some more before sliding her phone back into the giant pocket. “Boom.”
“Boom what?”
“I love helping local businesses. I have a ton of followers, and now this coffee shop will too.”
She was a confusing little thing. “Why would you do that?”
“My family owns hotels, and, although I went to college, it was decided long ago what my career would be.” She peered down into the jewelry cabinet. “I make sure everyone knows our hotels are hot, and any event I help with is hotter. Shall we get coffee?”
I followed her out of the boutique area. “Like a job? You post stuff like a job for the hotels?”
We reached the counter. “Yes, like a never ending 24/7 job. Don’t get me wrong, it has its perks, but my sole purpose is to keep the hotels in the headlines with many meetings to ensure I’m doing just that.”
Huh, the party girl wasn’t exactly what I thought she’d be.
A hippie dude with long hair and a beanie on his head appeared behind the counter. “What can I get you?”
Madison leaned against the counter. “Hi there, I’ll take a Venti Caramel Crunch Frappe, please.”
He leaned in closer to her, and it hit me that I didn’t like that.
“Are you as sweet as the five syrups that are going into your coffee?”He sounded like a grande douche.
She leaned in towards him. “Maybe, but mostly I’m a bitch.”
Yes, she was a funny one. But why was she leaning in so close to coffee dude? Their eyes were locked, so, of course, I slapped my hand down on the counter, maybe a bit too hard, and he looked over, irritated.
“Hello, I am a customer, and I’d like a coffee, too.” They both eyed me like I was a barbarian, turning my angry tone into a properly chastised whisper. “I am very thirsty.”
“Okay… what can I get you?”
“Coffee. Black, please.”
“Well, that’s a riveting choice.” His head shook slightly. “I’ll get right on it.”
Madison narrowed her eyes at me. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” How could someone in overalls that were at least two sizes too big look so damn good? “Do you know you can tell a lot about a person by how they take their coffee? You notice mine is plain black.”
“Yes, I did notice that. I think it says you’re a bore and very unadventurous.”
She had a spark I hadn’t expected in those twinkling eyes.
“Nope. It says that I’m straightforward, and what you see is what you get.”
“Okay, my wise Uber-driving gigolo, what does mine say about me?”
“Well, by the time you add all that shit to it—I stirred my finger in the air like I was stirring coffee—it’s not really coffee anymore. You took something that’s pure and doctored it all up. Do you do that with everything?”
I couldn’t pull my eyes away. Mesmerized by the way she crinkled in her nose as she digested my words. “Got you thinking.”
Her eyes rolled as she shook her head. “No, I’m not thinking at all. You can’t make me think.”
“Okay then.”
“Wait, that came out wrong.”
Coffee-dude reappeared and placed our beverages in front of us. I grabbed cash from my pocket and slid it to him. He nodded before vanishing. She cleared her throat. “I can pay for mine, really.”
“I insist.” I read her face before she could ask. “No, it won’t affect the cost of the ride.”
She let out a breath. “Thank you.”