Chapter Five
Jasmine
If River thought I was kidding about camping out on his front porch until he agrees, he was wrong. I spend all morning in a lounge chair, reading on my phone. At this point, I'm not entirely sure if I'm daring him to call the police or trying to call his bluff.
I just know I'm mad as hell.
At two, Olive Medlock shows up with food, plopping down into the lounge chair beside me.
"Fancy place," she says, grinning like this is the most fun she's had all day. For the record, it probably isn't. Also, for the record, this probably isn't her first stakeout of the day, either. She's the one who gave me the idea.
"Right?" I tear into the takeout bag, my stomach growling. "Thanks for the lunch delivery."
"No problem." She kicks her feet up in the lounger beside me, peering at the door. "Has he come back out yet?"
"No. But I've seen him peeking out the window a few times." I scowl at said window, but the blinds are closed up tight. "If he weren't a writer, I'd buy a set of speakers and start playing EDM at full volume."
"Maybe you should anyway," Olive says with a laugh. "I bet not being able to concentrate would get him back out here faster."
She may have a point. But I actually do want him to finish his next book…
"I'll save the idea in case I need it later."
"You going to spend the night out here?"
"Maybe." I shrug, taking a big bite of my burger. "Maybe I'll go home and then come back in the morning. I'm undecided."
"He really pissed you off, huh?"
He kissed me.
"Yes. He has to suffer for it."
"Cool. Count me in." Olive laughs before shoving a fry into her mouth.
Out of everyone I know, she's the most likely to help me with this insane vendetta.
I mean, she did just stake out her neighbor because she was convinced he was a serial killer.
She's also the least likely to have anything resembling helpful advice.
But I will literally die before I call Lilah for help. She will lose her mind.
Out of the two of us, Lilah has always been the most level-headed. I'm the one who thinks before I act and will hold a grudge until I die. Lilah is usually more rational. She's also usually right.
Not this time. River Jamison does not get to try to blackmail me into a date, kiss me, then threaten to call the police on me. No frigging way. I will be the biggest pain in his ass he's ever met. I swear, I will. Is it rational? No. Am I being reasonable? No. Do I care? Right now, absolutely not.
He kissed me.
And I think he may have broken my entire damn brain when he did it, because all I've been able to think about all day is how much I want him to do it again.
This was not part of the plan.
He was supposed to agree to come talk to Book Club, that's it. I wasn't supposed to like him. I wasn't supposed to want to kiss him again. He wasn't supposed to become an actual person to me.
I'm mad as hell that he's got me all twisted into knots, seeing him in ways I shouldn't.
"Can I ask you a question?" Olive asks after a moment.
"Sure."
"Why do you want him to speak so badly?" She glances over at me. "I mean, I know you well enough to know you aren't doing all of this just because he made you mad."
You know the most alarming part? I'm not entirely sure that's true. I think maybe I am doing this because he pissed me off. He's uncooperative and frustrating, and he refuses to bend even an inch. I don't like to lose, and I've been doing nothing but losing since I met the gorgeous bastard.
Why doesn't he want to meet his readers? Not knowing is driving me nuts.
But that isn't why I want him to speak.
"Dirty Book Club is fun," I say slowly. "But we have a lot of women who attend who just…
I don't know. I think they come because they've never felt seen, you know?
They're lonely, unfulfilled, or just feel like they carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.
They're tired of being overlooked and of not being the hero in their own stories, so they come to Book Club to escape for a while.
River writes women like them, women who have never felt like enough, and he does it so damn well.
I guess I just want them to know that there are people out there who see them.
" I pause, thinking. "I want them to know that they can change their lives, the same way his heroines change theirs.
They don't need permission or approval to do it.
They don't need anyone to say that they're allowed to do this or that.
I thought it'd be nice to have him come in person and just…
remind them that it's okay to live whatever story they want to write for themselves. "
We can tell each other that and build each other up all day long.
Sometimes, it takes hearing it from someone you admire for the lesson to really sink in.
And, despite all his obvious flaws, I think River might be good at helping ensure they really hear and take that lesson to heart because he writes women they identify with.
I want that freedom for them, so they don't have to feel like they're drowning in their own lives.
No one deserves to feel like a forgotten side character, but too many women do.
They're so busy holding everyone else's lives together that they don't give themselves permission to live their own lives, or they feel guilty for having something that's just for them.
They read romance and fantasize, but they're not very good at making those fantasies a reality if it means they might inconvenience someone else.
You can't set yourself on fire to keep everyone else warm…but as women, that's precisely what we're expected to do. And the minute we stop doing that, we're guilted for it. So many women are drowning under the weight, and they do it silently because it's what's expected.
They deserve to hear that having dreams and goals and working toward them, regardless of what anyone else has to say, isn't selfish.
Olive nods, chewing thoughtfully. "Have you told him that?"
"The infuriating man won't let me," I growl. "As soon as I bring up Book Club, he says no, and then we start arguing about something stupid, and I never get around to the why."
"You are good at arguing."
"I know, right?"
She grins at me, her blue eyes shining. "You want my advice?"
"Depends," I say dubiously. "You were just planning to change your name and move to Europe."
"I had reasons, Jazz!" she cries.
"Fine. What's your advice?"
"You're allowed to like him."
I gape at her with my burger halfway to my mouth. "What kind of advice is that?"
"The kind you need to hear," she says with a shrug.
"You have this weird thing where you like to pretend your heroes aren't real people, so they can't ever disappoint you.
Now you've met one of your heroes and realized he's a real person.
And you'd rather dislike him from the get-go than give him a chance and be disappointed later. "
"I do not do that," I protest, shocked that she has me pegged so well.
"You do, and in this day and age, no one blames you for it.
It feels unsafe to have a hero when they're being exposed every damn day for being vile.
But you're allowed to separate the human being behind the work from the work, especially when the human being is someone who has you so worked up that you're camping out on his porch.
If you want to date him, date him. If you want to hate him, hate him.
But if his books meant something to you, that doesn't have to change. "
"It will, though," I whisper. "It always does."
Once you realize that your heroes are real people with real flaws, it always ends in disappointment.
It's hard to idolize someone once you realize they've been cheating on your mom your entire life, or to hang on to memories you thought were special when you realize that all those trips were really just your dad using you as cover to meet up with his mistress.
Yeah…that was my childhood. Maybe realizing my dad was a cheating asshole gave me a warped view of heroes, but it's not like I'm that far off base.
People disappoint you. But when you never let a hero become a real person to you, they don't get that opportunity.
You get to keep on loving what you love because it exists in a vacuum that no one can take away from you, taint, or spoil.
River is already on shaky ground. If I get to know anything else about him—if I date him—I'll never be able to go back to pretending that he's a middle-aged college professor.
I'll have to deal with the real man. And the real man is already shaping up to be far more complicated than I know what to do with.
"Maybe it'll change for the better." Olive pops another fry into her mouth and then stands, dusting off her shorts. "You'll never know if you refuse to give whatever this is a chance."
"I…" Whatever I was going to say dies on my lips when a police cruiser pulls up at the end of the driveway. I narrow my eyes on the vehicle. I know he did not actually…
A young police officer steps out of the car, turning to look at me. Unfortunately, he does not look like the kind of big, strong guy I want to cuff me. He's kind of scrawny, with big ears and a pornstache. "Which one of you is Jasmine Knudsen?"
Oh, fuck. He did.
"Oh, shit," Olive whispers, her eyes comically wide.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Lilah is going to kill me.
I shove my burger back into the bag and rise to my feet. There's no way I'm letting Olive go to jail for this. "That's me. She's just here to deliver food."
The officer nods, striding up the driveway toward me. "We got a call that you've been camped on Mr. Jamison's porch all morning. I understand that you were asked to leave."
Oh, I'm going to kill him.
"Uh-oh," Olive whispers.
"I'm just trying to talk to the man."
"So…you have been on his porch all morning after being asked to leave?" he asks.
Gulp.
"Um…"
"Lying to an officer during the course of an investigation is a crime, ma'am."
"Maybe so, but you're interrogating her and haven't Mirandized her first," Olive says, her hands on her hips. Maybe I should watch more Law & Order if it taught her that.
"Fine." Office Pornstache cuts his eyes at me before he clicks a button on his radio. "Dispatch, mark time for Miranda."
"Oh, shit," Olive breathes, her face paling.
I gulp audibly.
"You have the right to remain silent," Pornstache recites, his eyes locked on me.
"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.
You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.
If you decide to answer questions without an attorney present, you have the right to stop answering at any time and request an attorney.
Do you understand these rights as they have been given? "
"Yes," I growl.
"Now, can you answer my question truthfully, please?"
"Fine," I say, exasperated. "Yes, I've been on his porch. And yes, he did ask me to leave. But he also asked me on a date after he asked me to leave."
"Right," Pornstache says. "I need you to come with me, please."
I may be losing it because, for a split second, I actually think about running.
But I'm in heels, the cop looks fast as fuck with his long ass legs, and I don't ever run.
There's not a chance in hell that I'll get away.
And he already knows my name. It won't be that hard to track me down.
Making this worse for myself is not going to help matters at all.
Killing River will absolutely make me feel better, however.
"Can't she just leave on her own?" Olive asks the officer.
"No," he says, sounding exasperated. "I'm taking her in for trespassing. You can't just take over someone's porch. You had food delivered, Ms. Knudsen."
"Are you kidding me right now?" I cry. "He kisses me, tries to blackmail me into going out with him, and then has me arrested?"
"Hold the freaking phone!" Olive gapes at me. "You two kissed?"
"That's beside the point!"
"No, it's definitely the point. You kissed him."
Officer Pornstache looks between us and then sighs. "You two are going to have to discuss this life-altering fact later. For now, Ms. Knudsen needs to come with me."
"Surely this is illegal!" I protest.
"Lady, you're the one camped out on the man's front porch," he points out.
"Fine," I growl, stomping down the steps toward him.
"Then hurry up and take me to jail so I can file charges on him for blackmail and extortion.
Can you please come to jail and bail me out?
" I toss over my shoulder to Olive. "And don't you dare tell Lilah.
If I have to hear her say I told you so, my head is going to explode. "
"I'll be there," Olive says solemnly, already rushing to her car.
As soon as I make it to the bottom of the stairs, Pornstache reaches for his cuffs, and the front door opens behind me. River pokes his head out, his glasses in his hand, looking immensely pleased with himself. "Afternoon, Officer Davidson."
Huh. I guess Pornstache has a name.
"You." I spin toward River as Olive pulls off. "I am going to—"
"Do not finish that sentence," he growls, his eyes narrowed on me.
"Wise advice," Davidson mutters like he's done with this whole day already, slapping cuffs on me. He doesn't put them on very tight but I'm still mad as hell. "Terroristic threats are serious."
"Precisely," River says, his eyes boring into mine. "You need to stop talking. Don't say anything else. Not a single fucking word, princess."
Well, hell. Is this man trying to help me or drive me insane? At this point, I don't even know. But the way he's looking at me like he wants to eat me alive and spank me at the same time has my whole system overloaded.
"I am so mad at you," I say, mostly because it's the only dignified thing I can think of when I'm in handcuffs, being arrested because I'm too goddamn stubborn to listen.
"I warned you." He doesn't even look ashamed of himself. Just…amused. And turned on. I bet the jerk has a humiliation kink, specifically, a humiliating me kink.
I swear to God, it's probably a good thing Loralei didn't give me his address, because I think I am actually going to murder him in his sleep now. No sense in her being implicated in my crimes.
"I'd like to go to jail now, please," I sniff to Davidson.
River just smirks at me. And goddamn him for being such a beautiful devil. "Go out with me," he mouths before I turn my back on him and stomp down the sidewalk to the cruiser.
"Hell no!" I shout. "I'd rather be Bertha's bitch in prison!"