Chapter 1 #2
She-devil’s glare narrows. “Huh,” she mutters, swiveling back to her boyfriend. “Why the fuck are you here then, if you told me we weren’t going out?”
He closes the gap between them. “The guys asked me to swing by for a beer. That’s it, K. It wasn’t planned, I swear. And I was about to leave…come with me.”
Classic Remington. My gaze flickers to Jacqui, and I can tell she’s reeling from this new development.
Remy steers Karin into the kitchen—I’m sure murmuring more lies and platitudes in her ear. Jacqui turns away from all of us, dragging a hand through her hair, and I don’t hesitate, walking straight to her side.
“I’ll drive you wherever you need to go whenever you want,” I say quietly.
She looks up at me. “Thank you.”
I dip my chin, treated to a closer view of those striking eyes, golden irises ringed with orange flecks. Fiery. The kind you could fall into and lose yourself forever…or get incinerated. This woman’s got the face of an angel and a body that would tempt a priest.
My buddies badger me to take my turn, jarring me from the hypnotic state she’s lured me into. I return to the game, land my quarter, and try and shake off whatever spell this chick knows how to cast.
Remy pokes his head back into the room. “See you, guys.”
His eyes flicker over to Jacqui briefly before landing on mine. He pleads with me in a nonverbal exchange to take care of her, as I one thousand percent expected. Then he bolts without explaining shit to her or even apologizing. I’ll always have his back—but this is exceptionally fucked up.
To her credit, the golden girl sticks it out, even loosening up and enjoying herself. She’s not shy, holding her own in conversation and against the frequent ribbing prevalent in our group dynamic. Her laugh is damn near melodic and sometimes boisterous and loud.
She’s captured the eye of every man here except for Terry, and Remy will dog her soon enough, attempting to get in her pants, especially with us working right next door to each other.
Something about my friends eyeing her like hungry wolves bothers me, but it’s all the more reason to give this chick a wide berth.
It’s getting late, and in case Jacqui’s worried or embarrassed about bothering me to split, I suggest we leave. She agrees quickly.
We’re cooled by the early summer temps as we walk to my car. I tuck her in the Mustang and slip into my flat bucket seat on the driver’s side.
“Three speed?” she asks, almost like she can’t believe it.
Unable to couch my pride, my mouth splits into a grin. “It’s a 1965 2+2. She’s a keeper.”
“What’s the 2+2 mean?”
I motion to the seats. “Two up front and two in the back.”
She bobs her head in approval before settling in. I fire up the ignition, turning down the radio when “So Lonely” blasts through the speakers. A smile pulls her lips wide. Because of the rumbling idle? It’s damn sure one of my favorite sounds.
We roll down the windows, letting out the stale air. When I unearth my pack of cigarettes and offer her one, she accepts, even though I didn’t see her smoke one all night. I clamp two in my mouth, fish out my Zippo, fire them up, then hand her one.
I rev the engine a couple of times, whip a U-turn, and gun it down the street. My cherry glows as I take a strong pull, flicking the ash out the window before it dumps in my lap.
“I love how smooth she rides,” Jacqui says.
I glance at her. “You a gearhead?” Her long hair dances in the wind, and I’m momentarily sidetracked.
Her shoulders lift for a beat. “I dig the cool wheels. Hard to top the muscle cars, though. I’d kill to have one, instead of my Bug.”
“Don’t knock the VWs. They’re good vehicles, and a hell of a lot more economical than these gas hogs.”
She seems mortified. “Who cares about fuel efficiency over design and speed?”
I smirk. Who is this girl talking about fuel efficiency and three speeds? Not your normal chick, that’s for sure.
“Is Mick a nickname or is that your real name?”
I nod. “My mom’s a diehard Stones fan.”
“I applaud her good taste.”
We ride in comfortable silence until Jacqui breaks it.
“So…what’s the deal with Remy and all the bullshit that went down earlier?”
Ah. I wondered when she’d bring it up. “Not sure I can comment.”
“Does he cheat on her?”
“That’d be a question for Remy.” This is his mess and he can clean it the hell up.
“Oh, I fully intend to ask him.”
Good. He should be held accountable for his crap. “Did he hit on you?” I murmur, a little surprised that left my mouth.
Her head swivels my way. “Not really. He offered to give me a ride in his Camaro. I had no idea we’d end up at a party. Thought we’d be gone twenty minutes, and he’d drop me back at work.”
Sounds about right.
“But he also never mentioned a girlfriend.” She tucks her bare foot underneath her, calling attention to those long, shapely legs.
“Surprise, surprise,” I mutter.
“I’m not saying he should have. We just met. But lying? Leaving me stranded? Not cool.” We enter the freeway, and she rolls her window part-way up. “Karin seems like a real prize.”
That statement—more like understatement—tugs at my lips.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Nope.”
And this conversation is officially heading in a direction I’d rather avoid. I turn up the radio on a Van Halen song and Jacqui squeals, causing another small smile to play on my lips as she dances in her seat.
We arrive at the gas station, and I pull alongside her VW. She slides her flip-flops back on and collects her purse.
“Thanks for the ride, Mick. I know you went out of your way, and I appreciate it. A lot.”
“No problem.” I lift two fingers from where they rest on the wheel. Our eyes collide and I study her for a beat before breaking away. This girl’s a knockout.
She grips the door handle. “See you around.”
“I’d say that’s likely since I work next door.”
“Ha…right.”
I wait until Jacqui’s safely in her car and follow her back toward Montclair. Her presence lingers, her absence strangely palpable, and I don’t want to think too hard about that.