Chapter 4
Jaxon
The buzzing wouldn’t stop.
At first, I thought it was part of the dream—don't ask me why my subconscious thought it was a good idea to conjure a bank robbery and make me the getaway driver.
I groaned when the buzzing stopped, then was back again. When I cracked an eye open and saw my phone lighting up across the nightstand, I realized it wasn’t my imagination.
Cursing, I reached for the phone, half-burying my face in the pillow. “Yeah?”
There was a pause, then a silky voice followed, too sharp and composed for a Sunday morning.
“Why do you sound like you’re still in bed?”
Savannah.
“Because I am still in bed. Pretending to be your boyfriend is exhausting work, you know.”
“Oh, I'm sure it is,” she drawled in a monotonous tone. “Attending fancy parties, smiling, drinking thousand-dollar champagne. The pain you must be feeling.”
I smiled, laying back lazily on the arm behind my head. “See, you know how I feel.”
She scoffed, and I could almost picture her rolling her eyes.
“Anyway, if you're finished being… you, the reason I called is because we need to discuss the rules of this little arrangement. If we’re going to keep up this act for the next three weeks, we're going to need some boundaries.”
I yawned. “I'd say we were pretty well last night without rules.”
“Barely,” she muttered. “I'm thinking of last night as a test run—one that you barely passed.”
“Barely passed?” I chuckled. “Babe, all eyes were on us last night. Prince Charming looked just about ready to slice my arm off, and the so-called bride-to-be couldn't stop drooling every time I moved. I'd say it was mission accomplished.”
There was a beat of silence before she said, “We’ll talk about that, too. But we discuss the dos and don’ts for this—just so that both parties are aware of the stakes.”
I grinned into the pillow. “Relax, Jessica Pearson, this is just a simple situationship. Boy meets girl. Boy helps girl with revenge plot. No need to get—”
“Are you free this afternoon?”
I glanced at the clock on my wall—10:13 a.m. I had a consult with Wolfe at noon, something about touch-ups on a sleeve piece Nerissa started three weeks ago. “I’ve got to be at the shop soon, but we can meet there if you want.”
“The shop?”
“Yeah,” I said, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. “Cage Ink Studios. It’s my tattoo parlor.”
A pause. Then, with what sounded dangerously close to curiosity, she said, “You own a tattoo parlor?”
“Mm-hmm. Well, co-own it, technically. Jesse and I manage day-to-day, and Benji handles most of the numbers when he's free.”
“Right.” She hesitated, and I could almost hear her recalibrating whatever image she had of me. “I suppose that’s… impressive.”
I smirked. “You suppose?”
“Don’t push it, Cage.”
There she was.
“Sure, we can meet there.”
I swung my legs out of bed, already reaching for the jeans I’d tossed over a chair. “Send me your address. I’ll pick you up in twenty.”
“You’ll what?”
“Pick you up. Unless you can suddenly teleport yourself to the studio.”
“You don't have to do that.”
“Yes, I do. It's in the fine print of any relationship—fake or not. If we're going to the same place, and you're my girl, then you better believe I'm picking you up.”
“I—” There was a pause. “Fine. Twenty minutes.”
Then the phone clicked and seconds later, she texted me her address.
It didn't come as a surprise that she lived practically five minutes from the university.
I tossed the phone onto the bed and laughed under my breath.
Savannah Bristow was still the same straight-and-narrow bookworm that she was in high school.
I snickered as I dragged myself to the bathroom.
Even I don't really believe that. The woman I met last night was not the same girl from high school.
That girl was shy, mute, and made the library her second home.
She had unkempt braids, braces, and thick brown glasses, and couldn't care less about what she wore.
That was the girl I was used to.
This woman was dangerous.
Even as I dragged myself into the shower, the memory of her from last night stuck in my head—the way she’d looked when I walked into that room. Confidence and composure balanced on a knife’s edge—a woman who would make flames cower in her wake.
And that fucking dress.
It had to have been carved by the devil himself. Sure, the lavender color screamed innocence, but it clung in all the right places—sharp neckline and stopping just shy of her knees. I was playing the part well because I couldn't stop staring at her, touching her, wanting to be close to her.
That was a problem.
Three weeks—this thing would go on for three weeks, and we'd never see each other again.
I had to remember that.
And the last thing I needed was a reminder of the person who I used to be. Darkness would follow those thoughts, and I was done with fighting the demons of my past. It was time to move on.
Throwing on a white tee, ripped jeans, and my leather jacket, I grabbed my keys and my phone.
Glancing briefly at it, I shook my head as I clicked on the group chat.
ARIYO
Benji, you ass
You took my Zeno with you
BENJI
No I didn't
Ask Jax
JAXON
Now why would you say that?
He's never gonna let that go
ARIYO
So you do have my freaking game
Where is it?
JAXON
I don't know what you're talking about
ARIYO
Don't make me come over there
I chuckled.
JAXON
Good luck with that
I'm already out the door
The assholes they all were, they all sent eye emojis.
ARIYO
You left the house before 12 on a Sunday?
JAXON
Don't make a big deal out of it
ARIYO
I just looked outside and no, there are no pieces of the sky falling
JESSE
You really need to stop watching Chicken Little
ARIYO
It was a good fucking movie!
BENJI
Jax, is this about Savannah?
ARIYO
Who the fuck is Savannah?
JAXON
Benji.
Why would you even?
I stepped into my boots and hustled downstairs. By the time I got to my bike, my phone buzzed five times.
ARIYO
So this is what we're doing now?
Keeping secrets from the chat?
GIRL SECRETS?
Is she hot?
Did you fuck?
JESSE
It's too early for all that energy Ari
ARIYO
So you're not even a little bit curious?
How come Benji gets to know?
I wanna know
JAXON
It's not a big deal
Just helping her out with ex drama
ARIYO
So… rebound sex?
Rolling my eyes, I swung my leg over the bike parked outside the complex and started the engine. The familiar growl filled the air, and the vibration hummed through my bones. It felt good. Steady. Real.
The roads were mostly clear, sunlight cutting across the quiet Sunday morning. A few couples walking dogs. A jogger or two. The world still waking up.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled up outside Savannah’s townhouse and texted her I was there. I parked the bike, eyeing the door patiently. She’d said twenty minutes, which probably meant she’d be ready in exactly twenty. Not a second early. Not a second late.
Sure enough, right on cue, the front door opened.
Savannah stepped out, her dark hair loose today, sunlight catching the soft copper strands. She wore fitted jeans, a Kingsview crew neck that skimmed across her waistband, and gold jewelry on her wrist and around her neck. There was a black cross bag slung around her shoulders.
And God help me—she looked good.
The “not trying to impress” good. The effortless, confident, infuriatingly composed good.
And she was eyeing my bike like it was a snake ready to eat her alive.
I climbed off and took off the helmet.
“Morning, sunshine.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” she started with, her eyes not leaving the bike behind me.
“What?”
“I'm not getting on that thing.”
“Relax,” I told her, chuckling as I moved to the rear of the bike and pulled out a helmet. Waving it at her, I added, “I came prepared.”
“The fact that you think that changes my answer is wild, actually.”
My head tilted. “Don’t tell me you’re scared, Bristow.”
Her eyes narrowed at my taunting. “I’m not scared.”
“Good,” I said, smirking. I walked toward her, standing close enough to get a whiff of her perfume. “But if it makes you feel any better, I'll go slow.”
“It doesn't.”
Shaking my head, I lifted the helmet, and my smirk widened. “You'll be fine. Trust me.”
“I don't trust you. Herein lies the problem.”
“You're just all for the compliments today, sweetheart. Really touching my heart there.”
She gave me a flat look. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”
“I’m going to be smart and keep my comments to myself.”
Glowering, she eyed the helmet, then the bike, then the helmet again.
“And just how many women have you given that to?”
“Jealous? Are we at that point in our relationship already?”
She exhaled through her nose, then muttered something under her breath before snatching the helmet from me. The sight of her trying to put it on was exactly what my morning needed. So worth getting out of bed this early. I had to bite my bottom lip to stop the chuckle from escaping.
“Come here, let me help you.” Pulling on the half-stuck helmet, I affixed it properly on her head, not missing the way her breathing hitched.
Our eyes locked for a moment, the air around us suddenly getting too thick.
My eyes never left hers as I pulled on the straps, tugging on them to be sure they were all good.
She pulled her gaze away, though, looking anywhere but at me while I finished up.
“Done,” I murmured once the last strap was in place.
What the hell was that?
I took three steps back to the bike and grabbed my helmet, then hopped on.
“Get on,” I told her.
She jumped a little. “Why can I hear you so clearly?”
“The helmets are connected.” I double tapped the side. “It'll make it easier to talk. Step up to the bike, it's not going to bite you. Good girl. Now straddle it—you can grab my shoulder here if you want.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see her hand hesitantly grab my shoulder before she slid on.
“Wrap your arms around my waist.”