Chapter 16
JULES
The sun had clocked out for the day by the time I pulled into my driveway, but apparently, I hadn’t because I was still on the phone with fucking David, the copywriter.
I was running on fumes after a night of barely any sleep and a full day of battling my own brain, trying to avoid the memories of the night before.
All I wanted was a quiet night with the kids and, if the universe was in a good mood, an early bedtime.
I noticed a sleek, black car parked out front. This thing looked like it had starred in a James Bond movie. It was definitely not our average driveway guest. Carol’s little white Beetle sat next to it, looking downright goofy in comparison.
“I can do Tuesday if you’ve got the presentation ready,” I mumbled into my phone, balancing it between my ear and shoulder as I stepped out of the car.
David was droning on about something, but I wasn’t really listening.
My focus was locked on that car, debating if this was one of those moments where I should be worried.
Should I? Probably. Did I have the strength for it? Absolutely not. Curiosity won over caution, and I moved toward the car. When the driver’s side window rolled down without warning, I nearly jumped out of my skin and almost dropped my phone.
“Shit!”
And then I saw him.
Chris.
“David, I’ll have to call you back,” I said, cutting David off mid-sentence as I hung up. I shoved my phone into my bag and crossed my arms, trying to hide the ridiculous pounding in my chest. “What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped.
Chris leaned one arm on the window frame with that movie star smirk tugging at his lips. I didn’t know if I wanted to slap it off his face or just… kiss it. Toss a coin. Right now, slapping was in the lead.
“Are you playing hard to get to keep me interested?” he asked, and I could feel my blood pressure spiking.
Oh, slapping it is.
“Because if you are,” he added and stepped out of the car like he owned the damn driveway, “it’s working.
” He moved closer, crashing into my personal space.
I stood my ground, crossing my arms tighter.
And didn’t say a word. “I’m not really engaged.
You know that, right?” He softened his voice before continuing. “I need you to know that.”
“It’s none of my business, really,” I shot back.
As if that was the only reason I’d deliberately ignored his texts today.
It was a big part of it, sure, but he had to know it was more than that.
Maybe being a jerk was second nature to him, and he couldn’t see how it could hurt me, the person on the other end of that shit show this morning.
“Come on, Jules…” He took another step toward me, and now I was backed up against Carol’s car. No distance between us left. I could feel his body heat, making the cool night feel a lot warmer than it had a second ago.
My brain was screaming at me to shove him, send him away, or at least scream some profanities.
But my body had a totally different idea, after starving it for so long, having the connection it shared with him yesterday had completely unlocked this horny, crazy version of me.
My pulse quickened, and that stupid warmth spread like wildfire.
“I’m not the kind of person who gets between a marriage, fake or not. And that Vanessa person? I—”
“I’ll fire her tomorrow,” he cut me off with a straight face that almost made me believe him. Almost.
“Don’t,” I replied, shaking my head like I could shake off the ridiculousness of this entire situation. There was no way I was going to be the reason someone lost their job, even if that someone was the devil in expensive heels. “I just… I don’t fit into all of this.”
I could barely survive the chaos of working in advertising, how the hell was I supposed to navigate being some Hollywood star’s girlfriend or whatever?
Honestly, if I could choose, I’d work from home, writing my silly stories, drinking peppermint tea, and avoiding all human contact.
The thought of going out and having strangers stare at me, acting like they knew me? Absolute nightmare.
“I know it’s a mess, but…” He hesitated before taking another step closer, our bodies now touching. “Aren’t you even a little curious about us? Why and how have we been dreaming of each other?”
“Oh, yes…” I admitted, sighing. Truth be told, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, even when I tried.
At some point today, I’d even tried convincing myself I was delusional and that yesterday hadn’t actually happened.
The Google search for psychiatric facilities near me was still in my browser history.
“I don’t think I can stay away now…” The way he said it, his voice low and wanting, made my whole body melt.
It was now a dual betrayal, not just my body but also my brain, which played flashes of last night on a loop.
I could practically feel his hands on me all over again.
The way he knew exactly where to touch, how to move.
The way our bodies fit together like they’d been designed for it. All. Freaking. Night. Long.
My knees wobbled, and I couldn’t tell if it was pure exhaustion or the pull he had on me. Probably both.
“What do you say we go inside and… talk some more?” He said with a glint in his eyes. Yeah, that was pure trouble right there. It snapped me out of my haze.
“Absolutely not!” I blurted out, stepping back sideways so fast I nearly tripped. It came out sharper than I intended, and I could see the hurt all over his face. It made my stomach twist.
That was too much. Try again, Jules.
“My kids are home,” I tried saying it softer this time. “I can’t… I don’t want to… You know.” I waved my hands, hoping he’d fill in the blanks because there was no way I could finish a sentence right now.
Chris’ jaw tightened before he nodded slowly. He could see where my boundaries were. I wasn’t ready for someone new to enter my kids’ lives, not after the divorce, and definitely not someone who came with his level of messy baggage.
“Fine,” he said after a beat, moving back toward his ridiculously fancy car. He pulled open the back door and gestured inside. “Then let’s sit in here. It’s freezing out.”
I stood there, arms crossed, trying to force myself to walk away and end this whole interaction before it escalated into something else. He didn’t move either. He looked with those stupid blue eyes that could see right through me.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, crossing my arms tighter to make a point. But my voice sounded weak, like I didn’t entirely believe myself. And, of course, he noticed.
That damn smirk was back. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to,” he teased, his gaze sweeping over me, making my cheeks heat.
I raised an eyebrow, but before I could fire back, he leaned back in, making me swallow back the words.
His voice dropped to that smooth, self-assured tone as he strolled towards me.
“I don’t know how. I don’t know why. But I can read you like a book.
And from what I see…” His eyes dragged down my body slowly before meeting mine again.
“Your pink cheeks, the way you’re crossing your arms like you’re trying to hide your tits, and those shaky legs that can’t seem to stay still…
” His gaze was holding mine like a dare. “I’d say it’s a smut book.”
He laughed, low and damn near sinful. I tried really hard not to join him because, well—he wasn’t wrong. Even though he infuriated me, my body was practically begging for a replay of last night.
“Come on, Blaze,” he said when I didn’t move. The nickname stopped me cold. It sounded so familiar, like it had been on his tongue a thousand times before. Like it was second nature. But he’d never said it before—at least, not here. Because in my daydreams, that’s what he always called me. Blaze.
“Red, Rusty, Freckleface, Chili Pepper… I had this friend in elementary school who used to call me Flamey Jules.” I said.
“Flamey?” His face had scrunched up in disapproval. “Sounds… tamable.” A slow grin spread across his face. “I’ll call you Blaze.”
I remembered it so clearly, like it had actually happened. Except it hadn’t. It was a daydream I’d had over a decade ago. Right?
The realization hit me hard. The kids’ names. The nickname. Could he somehow… see my daydreams? The thought made my stomach twist in knots.
“What did you call me?” My voice was barely a whisper.
“Blaze,” he said, smiling again, and then almost exactly like he had in my daydream—when he Googled it to confirm it matched my personality—he said.
“A very large or fiercely burning fire. It’s a nickname I used to call you.
Or…” He hesitated, trying to explain it.
“I dreamed I called you. I don’t know. I…
” He didn’t need to explain. I already knew exactly what he meant.
“I know,” I said, my voice uneven. “I… remember?” Did I remember?
Was that even the right word? I wasn’t sure.
What I did know was that this moment and this impossible connection between us made me want to run.
Run inside, lock myself in my room, and do some serious, copious research on what the actual fuck was happening.
That’s what I was good at—research, planning, figuring things out.
But let’s be honest: this didn’t feel like something I was going to find answers for on the internet.
Chris was back holding the door open, his turquoise eyes steady on mine.
He gestured toward the inside of the car.
His look wasn’t pushy, but it wasn’t exactly patient, either.
Rationality was screaming at me to push as much distance as possible between me and this man, but all I wanted—all I needed—was to hear him whisper “Blaze” right to my ear.
The thought alone made me press my thighs together.