Huh?
No freaking way.
I whirled to face him.
Cassidy gave Jax a perplexed look. "What?"
"Yeah," he said, "Jaden bought it a couple hours ago."
I felt my jaw tighten. It? Meaning Stuart's truck?
Again, I looked toward the front door. In my mind, I could still see him – not Stuart, but Jaden, leaning against the truck, claiming that the vehicle was his.
So that hadn't been a joke?
I reached into my pocket and yanked out my cell phone. I scrolled through the display and felt my gaze narrow.
Sure enough, the last incoming call had been from Stuart.
So that's who Jaden had been talking to?
Finally, so many things made sense – the truck being wide open, that strange phone call, the talk of someone dropping off paperwork – I sucked in a breath – and all of those veiled threats.
In my mind, I could still hear them.
"You're not dealing with her. You're dealing with me."
"I know where you live."
"No more cops. No more grief. Or else."
He'd also called Stuart a whiny little bitch. On that, I had to admit, he had a point.
Slowly, I turned back around. Jaden was still there, giving me that look again – the one I couldn’t quite figure out.
In that moment, I couldn’t even be sure whether he'd just done me a huge favor or had been messing with me all along.
The next day, I still didn't know, which was part of the reason I stopped by their corporate headquarters on a last-ditch effort to make everything right.
Chapter 15
"You can't quit," Jax said. "You haven't yet started."
Technically, this was true. Yesterday at his house, we'd agreed that next Monday would be my official starting date. In theory, I'd be using the time until then to get settled into the new apartment.
But now, I had other plans. I'd be spending that time looking for a different job and convincing Cassidy to take this one.
Unfortunately, the first step – getting Jax to agree – wasn't going anything like I'd hoped.
It was nearly noon, and we were talking in his massive office at the Bishop Brothers' corporate headquarters. I hadn't had an appointment, but he'd agreed to see me anyway – a promising sign, or so I'd thought.
From his visitor's chair, I gave him a pleading look. "I know I haven't started. But that just makes it easy, right?"
He frowned. "Easy for what?"
I leaned forward in the chair. "For me and Cassidy to switch."
With something like a scoff, he looked away and said something too low for me to make out.
I shook my head. "Excuse me?"
He looked back to me and said, "Not gonna happen."
"But why not?"
"Because I hired you, not her."
"I know," I said. "But she was your first choice." I paused. "I mean, I saw the paperwork. You did offer her the job, right?"
He leaned back in his seat. "I did."
"And?"
"And she turned it down."
I made a sound of frustration. "I know. But she only did that because she felt bad about me losing my job in Nashville. You do know that, right?"
This wasn't mere speculation either. After leaving their house yesterday, I'd actually confronted Cassidy about it, telling her that I'd seen the paperwork with her name, not mine.
I'd even tried to talk her into rethinking her decision to turn it down. But she'd absolutely refused, telling me that she would've sucked at this job, anyway.
This wasn't true. She was good at everything she tried. This was such a great opportunity. She should've taken it for herself.
Hell, she could still take it.
From behind the desk, Jax said, "I know what you're thinking."
"What?" I asked.
"That if you refuse, it'll go to her."
"Well yeah. Why wouldn't it?"
"Because I wouldn't do that to her."
I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "But you already did."
He stiffened. "I know."
"So, what's changed?"
"Nothing." Abruptly, he stood. "Take the job. Or not. Your choice."
"But—"
"But nothing. If you don’t want it, let me know. I've got a list of candidates a mile long."
Now, this I believed.
Probably, I should've given up, but my own stubbornness wouldn't let me. As I stood, I said, "But she'd be better than all of them. And she's really great with people. Trust me, everyone loves her."
From the look on his face, this wasn't what he wanted to hear. "If that's the case," he said, "she deserves better than my brother."
I felt color rise to my cheeks. "I didn't mean—"
"I know what you meant," he said. "But it doesn't change the facts."
"What facts?"
"That he'd chew her up and spit her out." His frown deepened. "My brother, he's…" Jax paused, as if searching for the right thing to say.
He should've asked me. I had lots of descriptions that were just perfect.
A jackass?
A rude, obnoxious piece of work?
A total tool?
I was in serious danger of finishing the sentence on his behalf when somewhere behind me, a familiar male voice said, "Pissed."
I whirled to look. Sure enough, there he was, Jaden Bishop, standing in the open doorway.
He eyed me with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, even as I marveled at his appearance. Yesterday, he'd been dressed casually and then some. But today, he wore a dark business suit that looked like it was tailor-made just for him. And of course, the suit looked obnoxiously terrific, accenting his wide shoulders and long, lean legs.
Cripes, he even wore a tie, which also looked good.
Damn it. This was so unfair.
As for myself, I was wearing a plain navy dress – one I'd purchased just this morning, using the last available credit on my nearly maxed-out card. The dress was loose and long, falling nearly to the floor.
Ugly as it was, I'd picked the style on purpose. And why?
It was because I was wearing sneakers, that's why.
But Jaden wasn't wearing sneakers. No. He was wearing leather loafers that perfectly matched his suit.
Well, goodie for him.
As I stared stupidly across the distance, I tried to reconcile the Shirtless Wonder with the perfectly respectable looking guy leaning against the door jamb.
Absently, I murmured, "Pissed?"
"Yeah," Jaden said, giving his brother a hard look. "Pissed. As in 'pissed off.'"
I wasn't following. "What?"
He looked back to me and said, "You wanna know what I am? That's the word."
Apparently, he was doing what I'd wanted to do – completing his brother's sentence.
Now, I was doubly irritated. After all, the word "pissed" hadn't even been on my list.
From behind the desk, Jax gave a low scoff. "Yeah, what else is new?"
"I'll tell you what's new," Jaden replied. "Her." His dark gaze shifted back to me. "Unless you're here to quit?"
I felt my eyes narrow. He wanted me to quit. That much was obvious. I gave Jax a sideways glance, wondering what he'd say.
I had, after all, attempted to quit just a few moments earlier, assuming that Cassidy could take my place.
Apparently, that wasn't an option, which meant that I'd be stupid to walk away now, especially if I wanted some way to pay the rent – not just for me, but for Cassidy, too.
That settled it.
I gave Jaden a slow, evil smile. "Me? Quit?" Deliberately, I widened the smile until my face literally hurt. "I wouldn't dream of it."
As the words echoed out between us, I realized that I actually meant it. If Cassidy truly couldn't take my place, I was determined to make this job work, if only for a year.
The money aside, it would be a terrific addition to my resume. These guys were bigtime – even more bigtime
than the music producer back in Nashville. Regardless of how I felt, I'd be a fool to not jump at this opportunity.
Jaden was staring now. "Now that's fucking scary."
I ditched the smile and blinked innocently in his direction. "What?"
"That look." He turned to his brother and said, "You saw it, right?"
I almost rolled my eyes. He wasn't scared. He was just being an ass.
Still, I couldn’t resist tweaking him just a little. "If you think that's scary, you should taste my coffee."
In reality, I made great coffee, but a little fear would do him good – or so I thought, because as it turned out, the joke was on me.
"Yeah?" he said. "Well, I don't drink coffee."
I felt myself frown. "Tea?"
"No."
"Well, what do you drink?"
Jaden gave a low scoff. "Don't you know?" He smiled. "The blood of my enemies." And with that, he turned and strode away.
I looked back to Jax. After a long, perplexed pause, I said, "He was kidding, right?"
Jax gave a tight shrug. "If you wanna quit, now's your chance."
That was no kind of answer, but I didn't complain. Already, I'd been seriously pushing my luck, and I knew the end of the road when I saw it.
So, I did the only smart thing I could do. I told him to expect me on Monday, just like we'd originally planned.
And then, I returned back to the apartment, where I found a different jackass waiting out front.
Chapter 16
As I pulled up to the apartment, I felt myself frown. Parked on the street out front was a vintage Chevy pickup with Tennessee license plates.
My stomach clenched. No. It couldn’t be. Could it?
Florida was a long way from Tennessee, and I knew of only one person who'd be driving such a vehicle.
Praying I was wrong, I parked a couple of car lengths behind it and cut the engine. Through the front windshield, I gave the unfamiliar truck a good, long look. It was fire-engine red with classic lines and ultra-wide tires.
Based on its style, the truck was at least three times my age. And yet, it looked nearly brand new. No doubt, it was worth a small fortune.
I saw no driver – or passenger, for that matter.
Wondering where they were, I looked toward the place that I now called home.
Our new apartment was located on the second floor of a stately old Victorian house that had been converted into two separate units.
Cassidy and I had been living in the upper unit for only a day, and already, we loved the place. It was nice and roomy, with oversized bedrooms, tons of character, and our own private balcony.
The apartment had even come furnished.
Best of all, it was located on a quiet side street only a block from the beach.
Even now, I could hardly believe that such an amazing place had been within my budget, even with my newly inflated salary.
Reluctantly, I looked away from the house and scanned the quiet city street. Where was the driver of that truck?
A moment later, I had my answer when a blond head popped up in the truck's driver's seat.
I stifled a groan. Yup, it was him, alright. I couldn’t see his face, but I was nearly certain.
My suspicions were confirmed within two seconds when the driver's side door swung open, and Stuart got out, looking slightly rumpled. He was tall and lanky with longish blond hair and light blue eyes. There was a time I'd loved looking into those eyes, but those days were gone.
As far as boyfriends went, he wasn't the worst I'd ever had, but he was far from the best. We'd been together for nearly six months until our bad breakup just a few weeks ago.
Since then, we'd barely spoken at all – unless I counted all of those tense exchanges regarding his beloved truck, the one I was currently driving.
Now, he was heading in my direction.
Still, I made no move to get out. What on Earth was he doing here? Had he come for his truck?
It seemed unlikely, given the fact that he didn't own it anymore, unless – oh, crap – what if Jaden had pulled a fast one?
I could almost see it, him telling everyone that he'd purchased the truck, only to laugh his ass off as I was hauled off to jail.
But surely even Jaden wouldn't be that awful, would he?
I needed time to think, but already, Stuart was rapping on the driver's side window. Reluctantly, I rolled down the glass and gave him a perplexed look. "Stuart?" In confusion, I cocked my head to the side. "What are you doing here?"
He smiled. "I came to get my stuff."
The smile caught me off-guard. "What stuff? Your gym clothes?"
"Forget the clothes," he said. "I'm not here for an old sweatshirt."
"So, what are you here for?" My stomach was still in knots, but I tried not to show it. "You, uh, don’t mean the truck, do you?"
He made a scoffing sound. "Why? I've got a new one."
Something in my shoulders eased, and I almost sighed with relief. So Jaden hadn't been lying?
Thank God.
I looked toward the shiny red truck. "Wow, that was fast."
"Yeah, tell me about." Stuart's face broke into a happy grin. "That sweet baby? It's got eight cylinders under the hood."
I hadn't been talking about the truck's driving speed. I'd been talking about the speed of Stuart's purchase of a replacement vehicle. But the last thing I needed now was an argument. "Oh. Well, that's good."
His smile faded. "You don't even know what I'm talking about."
Okay, maybe I didn't know exactly what a cylinder was, but I did know that more cylinders equaled more power.
Forcing a smile, I said, "I know that eight is bigger than seven."
This was meant to be a joke. Even I knew that cylinders came in pairs, which meant there was no such a thing as a seven-cylinder anything. My smile faltered. Or at least, I was pretty sure there was no such thing.
Stuart gave a snort of derision. "Seven? Goes to show what you know."
God, what a douchebag. Stuart had no sense of humor. This was probably the main reason we'd broken up. Or maybe, he just didn't get my humor.
Now, my smile was long gone. He always made me feel like this – stupid and awkward, even when it came to the littlest things.
Outside the truck, he was saying, "You never got me at all."
He was right. I didn't.
I still didn't. And I especially didn't get why he was here. He'd claimed it was to get his stuff, but aside from the truck itself, I knew of nothing so valuable that he'd drive ten hours to get it.
And now, he was giving me the rundown on his new "sweet baby." I heard words like "filter canister" and "thermostat housing." By the time, he got to "engine displacement," I'd already checked out.
When he finished, I said, "Wow, that's quite a truck."
He gave a slow, satisfied nod. "I know, right?"
This was so entirely surreal. The last time I'd communicated with him, he'd been threatening to have me jailed. Now, he was acting like we were best truck buddies or something.
It was more than a little unsettling. Abruptly, I said, "What stuff are you talking about?"
He blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You said you were here to get your stuff."
"I know."
"Well?" I said, glancing around. "What stuff is it? Like paperwork or something? I could've mailed it, you know."
He frowned. "What, aren't you glad to see me?"
I gave him a look. What an asinine question. Of course I wasn't glad to see him. Our breakup hadn't been friendly. And, he'd been a rotten sport about the whole truck thing, too.
I didn't want to argue, and yet, I couldn't stop myself from saying, "Well, you did threaten to have me arrested."
He scoffed like this was nothing. "Yeah, because you deserved it, making off with my truck like that."
I felt my gaze narrow. "You do remember that you borrowed my car all the time, right?"
"Yeah, but that's when
we were together."
Okay, on this he had a point, but not when you factored in quantity and inconvenience. Through gritted teeth, I said, "You borrowed it at least twenty times."
"So?"
"Without asking."
"So?" he repeated.
"So, half the time, you left me stranded."
"Oh come on," he said. "You had a roommate. I didn't."
Now, it was my turn to say it. "So?"
"So, she was there to give you a ride."
"Not all the time, she wasn't."
"Yeah, but it all worked out." With a little smirk, he added, "I don't know why you're so riled up now."
I gave him an annoyed look. "Well, I don't know why you threatened to throw me in jail."
At this, he looked away and mumbled, "I wasn't gonna do it personally or anything."
I wasn't even sure what that meant. When he looked back, I said, "And you do realize it was an emergency, right?"
"Jeez, let it go," he said. "You weren't even arrested."
I did my best Stuart impression. "So?"
"So, if anyone should be mad, it's me. You drove it like what? Five hundred miles? I mean, it's not like you just took it to the store."
I sighed. Maybe he was right. And besides, I didn't care enough to argue with him. Mostly, I just wanted him to leave, so I could go inside and nap. Between all the driving and drama, I'd slept only a few hours in the last two days. Now, it was seriously catching up with me.
I muttered, "Fine. Let's just forget it, alright?"
Stuart smiled. "Is that an apology?"
"What?"
"An apology," he repeated. "You know, for taking the truck."
I didn't smile back. "I dunno, did you ever apologize for taking my vehicle?"
"No." He straightened. "But that was different, just like I said."
I gave him a long, cold look. If he was waiting for an apology, he'd be waiting a long time.
"Alright," he said. "I'll tell ya what. Make me a sandwich, and we'll call it good."
My jaw clenched. What. The. Hell.
Of all the things, he might've suggested, why that? Why now? Until recently, I had nothing against sandwiches. In truth, I loved sandwiches. I even loved making sandwiches. Until our breakup, I'd made plenty of sandwiches for both of us.
But now, just the thought of a sandwich was enough to make me feel nearly homicidal.
One Bad Idea: A Billionaire Loathing-to-Love Romance Page 7
