Chapter 14 #2
Pushing away from the computer, I get a notification on my phone. Ahh, we’re trending. Last night’s date seemed to get the ball rolling. I open the link and see the headline, ‘New flame is a burnout already?’ What? I read through the article, my eyes growing large and my blood pressure boiling.
Looks like there is trouble in paradise already for Jackson Gage and his new-old fling, Francesca Casanova.
They were seen entering the bar separately and sat on separate sides.
Reminiscent of a 50s movie, Casanova and her girlfriends sat on one side while Gage and his men sat on the other.
Only when Gage was being friendly with a group of female fans, did Casanova approach.
Jealous much? They were seen in a heated discussion, and then Gage pulled her by her arm off the dance floor and out the door.
They were later spotted leaving separately.
How on earth did they spin this that way?
Who saw us that would report it back this way?
I can handle the pushback for a client, but when my name is attached, it’s harder to separate myself from it.
Is Jackson going to be mad now? Will he think this idea is backfiring, and it’s going to all end before it even gets off the ground?
A lot of people think any name drop is a good name drop. In the entertainment industry, as long as your name keeps being mentioned, you’re able to stay on top. But in Jackson’s case, this is exactly what we are trying to avoid and turn around for him.
I brush this off, knowing the internet trolls will spin any story to get more traffic on their sites and head into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.
“Trouble in paradise,” I huff, as I stir my mug and settle in on the couch. “If they only knew.”
I'm still trying to wrap my head around what we talked about last night. What exactly was he alluding to? Does he want to be together for real? But still faking the realness in front of everyone else? No, that’s not how Jackson operates.
This is so confusing and only solidifies if I don’t get my thoughts under control, I’m the one who’s going to get hurt in the end, no matter if we’re real or fake.
There’s a gentle knock on my door. “It’s open!” I call out. Jackson walks in and all the air is immediately sucked out of the room. He commands attention, and his presence is enticing.
“Morning, beautiful,” he says as he helps himself to a cup of coffee.
“You’re very comfortable in this house,” I say. He turns, blowing on his coffee, winks at me and comes to sit down next to me on the couch.
“Didn’t Adam tell you? This used to be my house before I bought the one across the street.”
“Really? No, he never mentioned that. Why didn’t you just stay here? The homes are basically the same layout.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t want to take from your brother. He was nice enough to let me crash here after I got booted out of my contract. I didn’t want to mooch for too long. When the house across the street went up for sale, I spoke with Bobby, told him I wanted it, and he handled the whole thing.”
I nod, knowing the feeling of not wanting to mooch. “I get that.”
“Chess! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that—”
I raise my hand to ease his worry. “No offense taken. I just understand your mind frame. I’m grateful for the place to stay and you know how stubborn Adam is, so as soon as something different comes along, or I decide where I’m going to be starting over…
” My words linger as his face turns into a frown. “What?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t realize you were still looking to move on.”
I furrow my brows. “I don’t even have a steady job right now, of course I’m still in the in between stages.”
He nods. “You’re right. I just figured you were home for good. I mean, everyone is here.”
You’re here.
But for how long? Wanting to get away from this train of thought, I mention the article.
“Yeah, I saw it,” he says, and blows out a breath. “I don’t know who was there, who would have reported it that way, and so quickly.”
I shake my head. “I know, it seemed fast to me, too. I looked for other pictures on social media to see if you were tagged, but there weren’t any besides the ones our group posted.
” Talking this out now, it seems a little too quick.
Unless someone we know, or who knows us, was there and sold the story as it happened.
He shrugs. “Maybe it was the bride you threw off our table,” he laughs, and I raise a brow.
“We’ll just have to go out again to combat it,” he grins and my stomach flips.
God, he’s never lost that same boyish, panty melting grin I’ve loved since junior high.
I place my coffee mug on the end table and smooth my hands down my legs. Why am I sweating?
“Speaking of, I got us tickets for an event next weekend. It’s a fundraiser for developing youth leagues. Figured it would be a good fit for you to be seen at. I submitted for tickets and asked Tony to get a copy of the guest list.”
“That sounds great. Will they want me to speak, or are we just there to socialize?”
“I won’t know until they send the tickets back, but I’m thinking we start slow. Just be seen, interact with the coaches and personnel. Let the real you shine.”
He smiles. “I do have a sparking personality.”
I raise a brow. “Mmhmm.”
He acts like he’s offended, throwing his arm over his forehead and moaning, “Oh, how you wound me.”
Jesus, don’t moan like that. It only makes me imagine what other noises I could force from his lips. I stand. “On that note, it’s time for you to go. I have things to do.”
“Oh, come on, I thought we could spend the day together,” he says.
I laugh, grabbing our mugs and placing them into the kitchen sink. “I’d get nothing done with you tagging along.” I turn on the water, rinsing them out when I feel him come up against my back.
“I know one thing we’d get done,” he whispers against my ear.
Goosebumps spread over my body and my breath is taken from me.
He wraps his arms around me, placing his hands over mine, slowly lifting them to turn the water off, then turning me so I’m facing him.
He places his hands on my hips, his thumbs digging into my skin.
I look up. He’s so close, his eyes burning into me. “What’s that?” I barely squeak out.
“We’d be in my truck, but we’d have to be careful. Someone could see us.”
My breathing is erratic, but he’s nice and calm. His thumbs stroking my skin still, I lick my lips, looking up into his eyes and say, “What are we doing in your truck?”
He lowers his voice. “I have a big hose. You’d grab it … and start sucking … ”
“Jackson,” I whisper.
“All the dirt from the back seat.” He straightens and grins but doesn’t drop his hands from me and leans in closer. “Do you know how dirty my truck gets after just one week of football practice?”
I blink. My mind spins. Did he just play me? “Asshole!” I yell.
He laughs, squeezes my sides, and runs for the door. He’s got a smug look on that handsome face of his. “Yeah, nothing fake about that reaction, Chesty. Catch ya later!” He’s laughing as he shuts my door. I’m so worked up right now. I have no words. A joke, that’s all this is to him.