“Wait a second.” She looked up at him through dark lashes—damn, the heavier makeup made her look closer to his age…and made her look downright sexy. Sam could feel the muscles in his jaw ripple as he clenched his teeth, willing himself to chill, but he had to relax enough to speak. “What were you going to ask me?” In spite of his better judgment, he folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb, indicating with his body language that he could wait all day.
Grace swallowed, acting demure and bashful. She looked down, her gaze falling around his knees, and then she licked her lower lip before forcing her eyes up to meet his. “I just wondered if you’d want to go to the party with me.”
Oh, hell. This was a temptation he didn’t know he could resist. And it would be so easy to justify. A Halloween party was innocent, right?
But he didn’t have a costume—and he had no business escorting a girl like this. She was a freshman in college, so that would make her what? Eighteen? Nineteen? No way. No way could he corrupt this young thing. A thirty-one-year-old guy had no business taking a girl like this anywhere.
He had to stop it now before it went any further. And he had the perfect excuse.
“Sorry, little girl. I’m waiting for my lawyer to call me. I can’t go anywhere right now.”
He could tell from her face that, first, she thought he was messing with her…but then he could see a glimmer of hurt appear in her eyes. Damn it. The last thing he’d wanted to do was crush her spirit. Grace was full of life and joy and contagious enthusiasm—some of the qualities that made him attracted to her and also made her Debbie’s polar opposite—and the last thing he’d wanted to do was quash her spirit.
But he couldn’t have her crushing on him. And he was pretty sure that was what this was. It wasn’t a friendly-neighbor-wants-you-to-feel-welcome sort of thing. Nope. He’d seen this kind of behavior when signing autographs for teenage girls—hell, even older women. It was their infatuation with a fantasy in their heads. Why, he didn’t know, but he did know that women all over the country thought they knew him, maybe because of the lyrics he wrote and things he’d said in interviews, and they’d imagined in their minds developing some sort of relationship. That shit couldn’t be healthy, but Sam also knew it couldn’t be stopped. He’d seen it far too many times.
And here was Grace, a sweet young thing—a girl who should be attracted to and dating boys her own age—with stars in her eyes. He had to stop it right now. If she knew all the shit he’d done in his life, especially since becoming Devil of Last Five Seconds, she’d run.
She should run.
For now, he’d push her away the best he could. And even though he hated seeing that look in her eyes, knowing he was the asshole who made her feel that way, it was for the best.
He was saving her from himself.
“You sure? I don’t have to go right this second.”
He felt his resolve melting, because all he wanted to do was take her in his arms—first, to hold her, and then to love her. Her sweetness, her innocence, her purity and light made him feel like a better man just being around her.
But he wasn’t. He couldn’t give in to the easy temptation of lying to himself, convincing himself that he could be the right guy for her. This was wrong—and he needed to punish his Bowflex now more than ever.
“Sweetheart, I can’t. And after I talk to my lawyer, I guarantee you I won’t be the kind of company you want to be around. I’ll be pissed off and unpleasant as hell.”
Why the hell had he called her sweetheart?
He could see the acceptance in her eyes. She was giving up on him—but it didn’t feel good to her. It was written all over her face.
That made the urge to hold her even stronger.
But she was resilient—he’d give her credit for that. It was as if she’d lost a fight and was picking herself up off the ground and dusting herself off. A beautiful smile covered her face once more and her eyes twinkled at him as she said, “All right. But you don’t know what you’re missing.”
The part of him that wanted to save her from falling for him decided that one last remark wouldn’t hurt. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be missing a bunch of college kids and some weak beer.”
Her smile withered. God, he was an asshole. A frown clouded her face then. “You know, I’ve never been to a college Halloween party. This is my first. I have no idea what we’ll be doing.”
“Have fun for me while you’re at it.”
Her pretty little mouth screwed up for a few seconds, making it impossible for him to figure out what she was thinking. “Yeah. You, too.” And then she turned and walked away, heading back to her house. Goddamn. He could have kicked himself. She’d come over, all bright and cheery, and he’d crushed her soul in the space of five minutes.
But it had to be done.
Yeah, good riddance. Maybe she’d avoid him from this point on.
And now he needed to go take his frustration out on his workout equipment. He had to avoid the urge to watch Grace until she was out of eyesight, so he closed the door and marched through the house to the back room. He was lost in thought, at first angry with himself for hurting that sweet girl while he pummeled the hell out of his equipment…but it wasn’t long before his mind wandered. It was amazing how much different from Debbie Grace seemed to be, and it made him appreciate—and want—her all the more.
He had to stop thinking this way.
And he was still beating hell out of his machine when the phone rang.
Game on. Now it was time to give his lawyer hell.
Transference was a beautiful thing.
* * *
Grace was driving the curvy road to Nevaeh’s house. The two girls had become close friends in high school and were both going to CSU-P. Both of them came from strict families and had played it safe when they were younger. As college girls, they were ready to spread their wings a little now, and the Halloween party was part of that. Grace had said, “We’ll meet new people and maybe then we’ll know more fellow students on campus.” Nevaeh had been hesitant but agreed nonetheless.
So Grace was headed there as the sky was darkening. She hoped she’d be cheered up by the time she got there, because she didn’t want to be a downer. But she’d forced herself to push out of her comfort zone earlier this afternoon, something she tried to make herself do on occasion, and asked Sam if he’d wanted to come with them. She’d learned a valuable lesson, though, and that was that he wasn’t interested.
Not at all.
She’d thought that maybe, from the time they’d spent together the day the ground in his backyard was being torn up for the pool, they were friends…but he’d made it quite clear today that he viewed her as a child.
Little girl. She was growing to loathe that phrase.
But she wasn’t going to cry. The whole thing had been a silly idea anyway. She’d read an article a couple of weeks ago that had prompted her to act. Jet of Last Five Seconds had been interviewed by one of the rock magazines she read, and he’d told them the band was starting work on their next album. Grace had been excited, because that alone would give her something to talk about with Sam. But then Jet told the interviewer that he suspected this would be their most hardcore album yet—not only was the initial music loud and heavy, but he figured the lyrics would be pretty intense.
The article went on to explain that, since the breakup of Devil’s longtime relationship with his girlfriend Debbie, the frontman likely had a few woes to work through, and what better way than through music that verged on violence?
But that had meant Sam was available—and so her flirting really wouldn’t hurt anything now, would it?
As she drove to Nevaeh’s house, though, she realized how stupid and childish the entire idea had been. He thought she was a kid, for heaven’s sake, and maybe she was clueless. Just because he’d broken up with his old girlfriend didn’t mean he didn’t have a new one. And a guy like Sam could have any woman he wanted—as many as he desire
d.
She’d seen the videos. She knew what kind of woman those guys wanted. Slutty women who wore lots of makeup and scanty rags so their boobs and butt cheeks popped out of their clothes. These were the kind of women she would never be.
Which meant maybe she needed to move on. She needed to find someone who would appreciate her as she already was.
So, by the time she picked up Nevaeh, she’d decided to have a good time tonight. She was going to meet some new people (including good-looking boys) and, if they had any alcohol, she might even try a little. But first she’d have to see if Nevaeh would be willing to drive…and to let her spend the night.
But, of course, she would. As Nevaeh would tell her, especially after learning about her bruised heart, That’s what friends are for.
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About the Author
1. Imagine 2. Play some music 3. Write 4. Blow readers away 5. Repeat
Jade C. Jamison is a steamy romance author, heavy metal fangirl, wife and mom, coffee connoisseur, cat lover, and vegan foodie—not necessarily in that order. She loves life and believes we learn our wisest lessons when reading, especially if it’s fiction. Her heroines are fierce, her heroes all but broken, both seeking redemption together. Whether in a small Colorado town or big city, she strives to take her readers’ breath away...one story at a time.
Let’s connect
Join Jade’s newsletter to stay up to date with new releases, get freebies, learn about sales, and more!
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For a list of all of Jade’s books, head to jadecjamison.com!
Boiling Point (Feverish #1.5) Page 7
