Chapter 6
Chapter six
Jack
“What are you doing there?” I murmur as I eye the brunette that has been plaguing my thoughts for weeks. Why is she standing at a bus stop in the pouring rain at ten thirty p.m. post Tuesday night match?
I pull my car to the curb alongside her and lean over opening my passenger side window. “Do you need a ride?” I shout over the downpour outside.
Emily’s eyes widen in what I can only assume is surprise at seeing me here.
A small smile graces her full lips, and I almost think she is going to agree until she replies with something like, “Thank you, but I'll wait for the bus.” It’s too hard to make out above the pounding of rain on my car roof.
But I’m sure she just said no to a warm, dry ride home.
I let out a frustrated huff, it's dark and pissing down.
What is this woman doing standing by a bus stop with no shelter and no lighting?
She's soaked from head to toe, her hood doing absolutely nothing to protect her face from the rain.
And now she is declining a ride home. Normally, I would enjoy the defiance and trying to break it, but she is going to get ill standing here.
“Seriously, Emily, it's only getting worse,” I plead gesturing to the sky through my windscreen.
“No.” She straightens her back.
Fuck, she’s so stubborn. I love it.
How many times has she rejected me now? I should probably get the point and leave her here to catch pneumonia.
She did say she didn’t like to say no more than once to people and that she would get less polite each time.
The thought of an angry Emily has me smirking, I can imagine her cheeks pink with frustration, the crinkle between her eyes getting deeper a finger pointed up at me.
“I'm sure it won't be long,” she yells back, and crosses her arms.
I’m not sure this bus is even coming. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bus stop here. The thought of leaving her here in the dark, alone has my stomach falling out of my arse.
“Em.”
She turns her back to me.
Right then, if she won’t get in. I pull on my hand break, open my door and step out into the downpour.
The sudden sheet of cold takes my breath away, it’s like being dunked in an ice bath. My tracksuit isn’t exactly ‘all weather gear’ and my pants are already soaked and sticking to my legs. I walk around the back of my car and stand next to a gaping Emily. “What are you doing?” she demands.
“Well, if it's not going to be long, I'll just wait here with you.” I smile down at her, channelling all my inner cocky football star as I suppress a shiver.
“You can’t park in a bus stop,” Emily says between shivering teeth.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I wink. Your move.
“I…” she stutters and shakes her head as if she can’t believe my audacity. “Okay, fine, it says on the bus stop that it should have been here twenty-six minutes ago, so I’m expecting it any time.”
“Perfect,” I reply and fold my arms, mirroring her stance. It’s mostly for warmth but I’m not going to let her know that. I can feel my nipples through my jumper I’m so fucking cold, I can’t imagine how cold Emily must be having been stood here for God knows how long.
We’re silent for about ninety seconds, and I take the time to study her.
She's doing everything she can not to look at me, phone out, phone back, look at the timetable on the bus stop, look at the ground. Her fidgeting is cute. Her shivering is not. My teeth grind at the thought of her being uncomfortable; I want her home, warm and safe. Tucked up with a nice hot chocolate wrapped in a fluffy dressing gown, she’d be naked underneath and I’d… Fuck, stop. Not appropriate.
Where has all this primal protection shit come from?
“This is stupid.” Emily’s voice startles me from my increasingly horny thoughts.
“Me?” I ask, pointing to my chest.
She smirks at that. “If the shoe fits…” She looks up at me. “But no, you getting soaked for no reason is stupid.”
“So is you getting soaked for no reason, when I could easily drive you home,” I counter.
“I could live miles in the opposite direction to you.”
“I like driving,” I shrug. I do love driving, being a passenger again, however, still not quite there yet.
“You're basically a stranger. I shouldn't get into strange men's cars.”
She does have a point, so I nod, “Very wise, we’ll just wait here, then.” I turn and cross my arms again, the rough wet fabric of my jumper scratching my skin.
“What? No. I’ll stay here, you get back in your car.” She puts her thumb up and directs it over her shoulder as if I forgot where my vehicle was. She's pouting now and I’m almost expecting her to stomp her foot. She's cute.
I lift a brow. “So, you're smart enough to not get into my car because you don't know me, but you're not smart enough to have me stay here with you whilst we wait for your bus so you’re not alone in the dark?”
“I… Um,” her nose scrunches as she realises I've made a solid point and she doesn’t know how to argue with it.
Another gust of wind pelts freezing cold rain into my back and blows Emily's hood off her head. She scrambles to put it back up and keeps a hold of it in front of her face, but it doesn't help to disguise the look of pure misery that is plastered there.
Her shoulders drop. “Okay,” she sighs.
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, you can drive me home.”
I grin.
***
Emily
I am sat in a very comfortable, very warm, leather chair that just so happens to be the passenger seat of Jack Cartwright’s car.
Jack Cartwright is driving me home. Jack freaking Cartwright, footballer, influencer and gorgeous ladies’ man, offered me a lift home and I accepted.
Jack Cartwright, who I have had two interactions with, one of which I was unconscious, thanks to him.
Jack Cartwright, who wouldn’t take no for an answer when he asked to take me out to make up for said unconsciousness.
Well, hopefully this favour will make him feel like he has made up for it and we can go our separate ways after.
Why does that make me feel kind of sad?
He has turned all the blowers in the car up to full heat to help dry us out and warm us up. Us, because he’s just as soaked as me, because for some unbeknownst reason, he decided to get out of his car in the rain to stand with me.
“Do you want to put your postcode in my sat nav, or direct me?” He asks.
“Hmmm…?” Do I want him to have a record of where I live?
Would it matter? He would know anyway, he's probably one of those people that drives somewhere once and can remember exactly where it is. Chris was like that. He would always say that I’m bad at giving directions, I'm always too late when there's a turning or don't give him enough notice when he had to come off the motorway.
As if saying ‘the junction after this one’ isn't enough notice…
“I'll put my postcode in,” I resign, best to save myself the embarrassment of Jack getting pissed off at me and abandoning me halfway home.
We sit in silence for a while, so I take my phone out of my pocket and see that Dan has messaged me a picture of the girls in their Disney princess outfits I got for them Christmas which makes me smile.
I had stayed with Dan and his family for a few days over Christmas so I wouldn't be on my own. Chris wasn’t invited to family Christmas, and I didn’t need to ask to know he spent it with his new girlfriend.
I think Dan and Chris’ relationship is strained after what Chris did, but Dan would never bring that up to me in fear of me taking on the blame.
I was planning on spending a whole week at Dan’s, but the girls had given me one too many makeovers and I decided I had endured enough.
It had really helped being around the kids through my heartache, getting to be playful and creative with them and getting out of your adult head is incredibly cathartic.
But there is only so much a childless twenty-eight-year-old who enjoys silence and alone time can cope with.
I message Dan back to let him know who is giving me a lift, he won't believe me anyway, but he will tip off the police if I go missing. “I’m just messaging my friend to let him know who’s giving me a lift,” I turn to Jack to say.
A small smile lifts the corner of his mouth, his face is lit up by the big screen in the dashboard, his strong jaw accentuated by the glow. “That sounded like a warning?” He says it like a question.
“Do you need one?” I glare.
“What for?”
“If you decide to murder me and dismember my body…?” I start.
“Jesus, Em. Dark! It's just a lift, I promise I'm not going to murder or dismember you.” He still has a smirk on his face.
“That's what they all say,” I roll my eyes, and he laughs out loud at me. I have never heard him laugh before, not in real life. It makes my smile wider.
Were quiet for a while after that, I exchanged some more messages with Dan: ‘That Jack Cartwright, no way.’
‘Yes really.’
Jack is the one to break the silence. “Is it your boyfriend that I’m to answer to if something happens?” I startle at the reminder of having had a boyfriend.
“No, his brother. Eh no… Ex brother.” I correct myself and clear my throat, “No, my ex’s brother.
Who is basically my brother. Not in weird incest kind of way, but in like a, I was his best friend first kind of way.
He introduced us.” I’m flustered and babbling for some reason, either that or that brain haemorrhage Dan warned me about has come much later than medically indicated.
“So, no boyfriend?” he asks, a smirk again on his lips.
“Why?” I retort, curious as to why he would care about my love life, or lack thereof…
I must have said it more abruptly than it was supposed to because his eyes widen as if he is rethinking which one of us is the psychopath killer in the car. “Sorry,” he shrugs, “I’m just trying to make conversation.”
“Sorry,” I sigh. “I’m just still not okay talking about him. My ex.” My reply shocks me, because as I say it, I realise it might not be true anymore. It’s less me not being okay talking about him and more me not wanting him to take up any more space in my head than he has been.
“So fairly recent, then?” This earns Jack a side eye and no response.
He chuckles, “Ahhh, it makes sense now. That’s why you turned me down for a drink.” His smile is teasing, and I actually laugh.
“HA! How big is your ego, Jack? Do you need me to get out of the car to make room?” I gesture to the space in the car, and his grin widens wrinkling his eyes in the corners. God, how are even his age lines sexy? This is unfair.
“Why can’t I take you for a drink, then?” He turns his whole body in his chair to face me and I realise we have pulled up outside my house. His face is much more sincere now his cheeky grin is gone, his eyes shine in determination.
I let my eyes roam over his perfect face for a moment and take a deep breath, “Honestly?” I ask on a sigh.
“Always, please.”
“Well, for one, yes there’s the fact that I only broke up with my fiancé a few months ago.
” He flinches when I say the word fiancé, like it’s a surprise that someone actually wanted to marry me.
“Two,” I continue, “look at you and look at me,” I point between the two of us.
“You're gorgeous. I’m average at best in the right lighting. You date models and singers and multiple reality TV stars at the same time.” He opens his mouth to interrupt, but I don't let him. “You have hundreds of options; I imagine your DMs are full of girls wanting to fuck you. Mine were full of a girl my ex decided to fuck instead of me. I don’t understand why you would even be interested, when you have so many options! Three…” I hold up three fingers between myself and Jack.
Quicker than I can see his large, warm hand grasps my wrist and electricity shoots up my arm at the contact.
“Stop.” His deep voice commands, “Look at me.”
A small gasp leaves my lips, but I don’t interrupt.
I slowly lift my eyes to meet his, a stormy sea of blue stares at me intensely.
“You have no idea how beautiful you are, Emily, and there is something here. I don’t know what it is, but I know you feel it.
I get that you’re not ready yet, and I can wait until you are.
Then, I would like to take you out.” he says, not taking his eyes off mine.
His admission takes my breath away, so he can feel the spark too?
I was starting to think I had imagined it.
Despite myself, I have to admit he has ignited something in me that I haven’t felt for a long time.
Not that I am looking to explore any kind of spark with this man, or any one at the moment. Nope.
It is nice to know I haven’t lost my desire though.
I was starting to worry I’d dried up. Even my smutty books hadn’t been doing anything for me—and I mean full shifter, why choose, group action wasn’t tickling any kind of need.
I'd started to read thrillers just to feel anything at all. I’d had to stop when I’d called Dan at three a.m. one night, to come over and check the back garden because I’d heard a sound that may or may not have been a cannibal. Still unconfirmed.
“Give me your phone.” Jack holds out a hand to me.
I do as he asks and hand him my unlocked phone before thinking too deeply into it.
He types his number in and saves it under his government name.
“Look,” he says, “I’m sorry your Ex was a fucking idiot and cheated on someone like you.
But I like to think I’m not like that. Let me take you for a drink, or dinner or whatever you fancy, and let’s get to know each other.
Let me show you I’m not just the Jack you’ve read about. ”
He hands me back my phone and I nod my reply, unsure of what to even say to that.
I don’t think I could make my voice work if I wanted to.
On unsteady legs I make my way out of the car, my hands are shaking as I unlock my door and let myself in.
I can still feel the ghost of Jack’s touch on my wrist. How has one little bit of skin-to-skin contact got me so rattled?
I strip myself down and get into a scalding hot shower to try and warm myself up. I can think about nothing but that new number in my phone. The number I have no intention of using. Not now. Not ever.