Chapter 22 Jonathan
Jonathan
Iprobably look like a full-blown stalker at this point.
I can’t stop staring at AJ from across the room.
She’s mid-laugh at one of Allen’s terrible dad jokes and somehow even makes that look hot.
Her nose crinkles in this adorable ripple, her mouth stretches into a wide, full smile and her laugh is that deep, unfiltered kind: equal parts sexy and playful.
The kind that makes everyone around her want to laugh too, just to be part of it.
She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and glances over at me.
I’m standing beside Victoria, nodding along like I care about her latest girls’ trip to Aspen with her overpriced coat rack of friends.
AJ catches my eye and waves subtly, hand low at her side.
I give her a small smile and tilt my head toward Victoria, then roll my eyes for good measure.
AJ giggles and covers her mouth like she’s trying to stay composed. It only makes her more irresistible. She’s this impossible mix of sexy and sweet and it’s driving me crazy.
I can’t believe it. AJ. The woman who once made work feel like a competitive sport. The one who’s been embedded under my skin for years in all the worst ways. And now? She’s making me flushed, restless and horny as hell.
The way her jeans hug her body should be illegal.
Every curve of her ass, the perfect lines of her thighs; it’s like they were custom-made to ruin my concentration.
That halter top sits just right at her hips, revealing a sliver of sun-kissed skin above the waistband.
The neckline dips low enough to hint at cleavage without giving it all away.
It’s… criminal. Sensual in that effortless, sneaky kind of way that makes you look twice and then a third time when you think no one’s watching.
Her golden blonde hair is curled in those soft waves that practically beg to be touched. And don’t even get me started on how she smells. Like wildflowers and danger. Feminine and bold. The kind of scent that hits you once and lingers in your head for days.
She doesn’t need makeup. AJ’s the kind of naturally beautiful that makes people stare without realizing it but the swipe of eyeliner and mascara she put on earlier makes her blue eyes even more dangerous.
It’s taken me six long years to get here, but the truth is finally slapping me in the face: AJ is sexy as sin and I’m completely gone for her.
The best part? She kissed me back in the golf cart. Sure, I didn’t exactly make it easy to resist, regardless though, she leaned in. She wanted it. And the way she’s looking at me from across the room right now? She wants a round two.
As usual, dinner here doesn’t miss. Tonight’s Italian night: chicken Alfredo, shrimp scampi and lasagna so close to my grandma’s I almost pull out my phone to call her. Add in the endless wine, background Sinatra and dim, romantic lighting and it’s basically a date night fantasy.
Except, of course, Marcus has to sit on the other side of AJ and talk to her the entire damn time.
She’s polite. She giggles at his dumb jokes.
But I can tell she’s not totally into it.
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes and every so often she glances my way like she’s searching for a lifeline.
I want to reach across the table and shut him down mid-sentence.
But instead, I sip my wine and wait for the bus ride.
Victoria and Marcus have this whole group outing planned, some local bar for dancing.
Fine. Whatever. I’m counting down the minutes until I can sit next to AJ, alone, for the twenty-minute ride.
I let her get on the bus first, partly to be a gentleman…
mostly to enjoy the view. And damn, what a view.
Her hips move with just enough sway to make me question every good decision I’ve ever made.
I follow close. Real close. Close enough she can probably feel the heat off my chest. At one point, she reaches back and brushes her fingers against my jeans. It’s just a light touch but it sends a jolt straight through me.
And then Tanya ruins everything. “Abby!” she screeches, waving AJ toward the seat next to her. “Elaine’s sitting with Stan. Please sit with me!” she whines and protests.
AJ glances back at me, clearly torn. I give her a nod, trying to play it cool even though internally I’m screaming into a void.
She smiles, leans in and kisses my cheek.
It’s enough to fry every neuron I have. Then she slides into the seat next to Tanya, who immediately launches into a full-blown TED Talk about her outfit.
I drop into a seat a few sections behind them, staring out the window, silently fuming. Of all the things that could’ve cockblocked me tonight… it had to be the company gossip queen in fuchsia wedges. At least I’m still close enough to hear AJ laugh and far enough to avoid Tanya’s constant babble.
Suddenly, because of course, karma’s got jokes, Marcus slides into the seat beside me like we’re old friends about to share a beer, not mortal enemies locked in a fake-dating love triangle.
He nods. “What’s up?”
I nod back, barely. “Not much.”
“I think this place is going to be fun,” he says, adjusting his overpriced jacket like we’re discussing dinner plans and not silently battling for the same woman’s attention.
Before I can fake a polite grunt, Tanya twists in her seat, two rows ahead of our row, leans over AJ and waves back toward us. “Hi, Marcus!”
“Hi, girls,” Marcus replies smoothly from beside me but the grin he sends forward is locked on AJ. Even though she’s not looking his way.
Just like that, every muscle in my jaw tightens. I can feel the heat rising behind my ears and I’m pretty sure my face is now a shade somewhere between “blood pressure crisis” and “fire engine.”
He leans back fully in the seat like nothing happened, pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through his email.
Meanwhile, I’m stuck, physically and emotionally, between the girl I’m fake-dating, who I absolutely want to be real-dating and her smarmy ex-fiancé who smells like money and smug entitlement. Cool.
The bus rumbles to life and we pull onto the winding road toward the club.
I’m already planning how I’ll steal her away; maybe a slow dance, maybe a whispered excuse to step outside, maybe I’ll kiss her senseless in a dark corner of the bar or hell, even the back alley.
I’m not picky. I just need her lips on mine again.
And then, like the human equivalent of a wet sock, Marcus turns to me.
“I want to talk to you,” he says, his voice serious.
I arch an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”
I assume it’s about the company. A merger. A pitch. A budget review. Anything but her. Naturally, I’m wrong.
He leans in, like we’re bros swapping secrets and lowers his voice. “I want to be honest with you. Man to man.”
Oh, here we go. I lean toward him out of reflex, body language habit, but the second he speaks, I regret everything.
“I want Abby back,” he blurts out with the confidence of the strongest man in the world.
The words hit me like a slap to the face. No warning. No buildup. Just a straight-up, sucker-punch confession and for a second, I forget how to blink. Did he seriously just say that? Because if he thinks he’s getting her back… he has no idea who he’s dealing with.
I shake my head like I must’ve misheard him. “Huh?” I say.
He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m going to win Abby back,” he says casually, like he’s talking about picking up dry cleaning. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up so there’s no hard feelings. You know—” and then, the smirk “—because I’m kinda your boss now.”
He shrugs like that’s a totally normal thing to say, then leans back in his seat and starts checking his emails again, as if he didn’t just throw down a gauntlet mid-bus ride.
I’m not the kind of guy who backs down from a fight.
Never have been. But for some reason, I sit there in stunned silence.
Maybe it’s the audacity. Maybe it’s the arrogance.
Or maybe it’s the fact that I don’t want to cause a scene with AJ a few feet away.
Either way, I don’t say a damn word the rest of the ride.
Marcus, on the other hand, sits there proud as hell, oozing that overconfident, I-always-win energy like he just scored the first point in a game I didn’t agree to play.
Minutes later we pull up to the club and you can already hear the bass thumping from outside. Neon lights pulse against the building and there’s a line wrapped around the block. Clearly the place to be on a Saturday night out here.
Because we’re rolling deep, the staff comes out and leads our group inside to an elongated booth area right by the dance floor.
It’s prime real estate with velvet couches, bottle service, the whole deal.
As we walk in, I catch more than a few guys eyeing AJ and it lights something hot and territorial in my chest. They all think they’ve got a shot.
Especially Marcus. But they’re about to learn the hard way that AJ’s going to be on that dance floor with me.
We crowd around the booth, settling into the space. Three women in sleek black dresses come over carrying bottles of champagne, Victoria’s doing, obviously. Moments later, a guy with too much cologne and too-bright teeth strolls over.
“Hello, everyone!” he announces, arms thrown wide. “I’m Ricky and this is my club. If you need anything, just let me know.” He kisses Victoria on the cheek then disappears toward the bar like he owns the whole planet.
“I’ve known Ricky since college!” Victoria shouts to the group, but the music’s so loud all we can do is nod and pretend we heard her correctly.
Marcus, trying a little too hard to play host, stands and starts pouring champagne like he’s the man of the hour. When he gets to AJ, he leans in close, says something low in her ear and hands her a glass.
She blushes, then mouths thank you as he winks at her.