Chapter 4 #3
“You say that,” he murmured, his gaze dropping briefly to her feet, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But you look good in them.”
Her eyes snapped up to his face, her heart giving a little kick in her chest.
He turned away before she could think of a comeback. His fingers moved to his suit jacket, shrugging it off with that smooth, unbothered grace he always had. Before she could process what he was doing, he draped it over her shoulders, letting it settle like it belonged there.
The warmth hit her immediately, the heat from his body still trapped in the fabric. She blinked, glancing up at him like he’d just performed magic.
“You’re awfully generous tonight,” she muttered, pulling the jacket tighter around her shoulders.
He tilted his head, his eyes flicking to hers with that quiet intensity that always made her feel like she was standing too close to the edge of something.
“Don’t get used to it,” he said softly.
Her breath caught.
Butterflies. Unwelcome, ridiculous, inconvenient butterflies.
The black luxury car rolled up, the headlights cutting soft beams of light across the pavement. The driver stepped out, already opening the back door. James didn’t rush her. He didn’t say a word, just resting his hand lightly on the small of her back as he guided her toward the car.
She slid into the seat first, tucking her legs in carefully. The leather was cool against her bare skin, but his jacket kept the rest of her warm. He slid in beside her, pulling the door shut with a solid thunk.
The city lights flickered in golden streaks as the car zoomed forward.
Silence settled between them. Not awkward. Not tense. Just… quiet.
Her eyes flicked toward him, catching the way he leaned back, head resting against the seat, eyes half-closed.
His tie was loose now, the top two buttons of his shirt undone.
His sleeves were still rolled up from earlier, and for the first time all night, he looked tired.
Not in a "bad day" way. More like he’d finally stopped being a machine.
Her gaze lingered too long. She told herself it was curiosity. Nothing more.
He shifted, his head tilting slightly, his weight leaning toward her.
Her eyes widened. No way.
He didn’t move again. His head came to rest lightly on her shoulder, the weight of him solid and unexpectedly human.
Her breath caught in her throat, her heart doing something ridiculous in her chest. Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move.
“Hey,” she whispered, tilting her head slightly to look at him. “Are you—”
His eyes stayed closed. His breathing slowed, steady, and calm.
Her mouth pressed into a line. Of course, he fell asleep.
Her shoulder felt too warm now like every nerve in her body had just been put on high alert. His cologne was still faintly there—something clean and sharp, like cedar and smoke. Her heartbeat refused to settle, thudding in her chest like it had just run a marathon.
Her fingers twitched like she should push him off. She should have pushed him off.
But she didn’t.
Her eyes stayed on the window, watching the city blur past, the glow of streetlights flashing in intervals like fireflies. Every shift of the car moved him slightly closer, his weight just a bit heavier against her side.
Her pulse had no business being this loud.
Her gaze flicked to him again, lingering this time. The crease in his brow was gone. His jaw wasn’t set tight like it usually was. His face, usually so sharp, was soft now. Quiet. Peaceful.
Ugh.
She pressed her lips together, glancing out the window with a sigh. Butterflies again. Stupid, reckless, good-for-nothing butterflies.
The car rolled to a stop. She blinked, realizing they’d arrived at her place. The driver glanced back, his eyes catching hers in the rearview mirror.
“Miss Monroe, we’re here,” he said quietly.
Her eyes darted to the man sleeping on her shoulder. For a second, she debated waking him up. Shake him, nudge him, anything. But he looked too… calm. Peaceful, even.
“Don’t say anything,” she whispered to the driver. Carefully, she leaned forward, sliding out from under him like she was defusing a bomb. His head tilted slightly but didn’t fall, and somehow, he stayed asleep.
Her heart pounded for no good reason as she stepped out of the car. The cool air hit her again, but his jacket stayed on her shoulders. She glanced down at herself, barefoot in his oversized dress shoes, his suit jacket draped over her like it had always been hers.
What a sight I must be.
The driver gave her a small nod as she walked toward her front door.
“Miss Monroe?”
She glanced back.
The driver’s eyes flicked to James, still asleep in the backseat, then back to her. “Want me to wake him?”
She paused, then shook her head. “No. Let him sleep.”
Her hand lingered on the door handle as she glanced back at him one last time. His head leaned against the seat, his brow relaxed, and his lips parted slightly like he was finally at ease.
He’s human, after all.
Her chest felt weirdly warm. She hated that.
With a quiet sigh, she walked inside, still wearing his jacket.