Jaden

by Shayne Ford

  “That’s not your business,” I toss at him brashly.

  His eyebrows shoot up, his eyes flooded with a playful grin.

  “Oh... Okay, then. I’ll think about it.”

  He pulls away and saunters toward the door. My stomach shrinks.

  “I need an answer,” I bark.

  He stops and turns to me.

  “Now,” I press.

  “What’s the rush, baby?”

  “The event is next week. ”

  He ponders for a moment, his hesitation driving me crazy. And I think he knows. I also think he’s testing me.

  “If I say yes, what do you need from me?”

  “Your name, clothing size, a clean bill of health and your sexual preferences.”

  His eyes hold mine as I recite my list. Cold. Unemotional. He watches me, his expression guarded, his face impossible to be read.

  “What’s your name?” I ask softly.

  “Jaden. Jaden Taylor. What’s yours?”

  “Senna Lloyd.”

  “Good, Senna. You have to guess my size...” He pauses and smirks. “My clothing size that is. I need a clean bill of health from you as well, and my sexual preferences are not up for discussion. Would that work for you?”

  I nod once. He starts moving, and I grab his forearm. My hand melts on his skin. He looks down as I take in a long breath, my nerve endings grasping the feel of his skin, the warmth of his body, and the hardness of his muscles.

  “What’s No Ash?”

  He does that grazing of his lip with his teeth again. Heat pours over me as I register the slow motion, the unfurling of his bottom lip, and the glistening of his moist flesh.

  “It’s no ass, no kiss, no bareback.”

  “And no women.”

  “Not for money. Usually,” he says, his fingers trailing across my knuckles. My body turns into a fluid mess, a swarm of goosebumps crawling up my arm.

  “Why’s that?” I ask softly as if I’m afraid to end this moment.

  “They’re trouble.”

  His hand cuffs my wrist as he peels my fingers from his arm. He holds my hand for a moment enough for my heart to flip waywardly a few times, and then he tears away.

  “Two o’clock. On Thursday. I’ll wait for you in front of Jill’s.”

  My voice follows him as he pushes out the door. I press my hands on my cheeks and shake my head. I can’t believe I’m blushing.

  6

  JADEN

  “Food is ready.”

  Sara’s voice rings out somewhere in the back.

  “Don’t wait for me. I already ate. I’ll be out in a second,” she says, her voice traveling from the bathroom to the bedroom and then to the living room, a soft whimpering following her around.

  I take off my boots and walk into the kitchen. A delicious smell floats in the air. I pull out a clean plate from the dishwasher and pile it up with the food I scoop out from the pots sitting on the stove.

  “Somebody’s hungry,” she says, her soft blue eyes glinting with an endearing smile.

  Fashioning a tailored gray dress paired with heels, she studies me for a moment as she nears the fridge. Her blonde hair brushes her shoulders when she swivels her head.

  She swings the door open and fumbles through the food containers, taking out what she was looking for. She pulls a drawer open and fishes out an ice cream scoop.

  “I made your favorite dessert.”

  “Thank you,” I say, finishing off the food from my plate. “You look good,” I say, motioning up and down with my fork. “It makes you look more mature.”

  “That’s exactly what I want. Besides, I don’t have anything else to wear. Hopefully, this is good enough for the first interview.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  “You’re kind,” she says, smiling at me.

  She places two glass cups filled with ice cream on the table.

  “Mmm. That looks good,” I say, eyeing the scoops of chocolate and hazelnut ice cream. “Where is she?” I ask.

  Sara lifts her chin, motioning to the middle of the living room. Leaning forward, I angle my head and give her a side glance.

  “Emma?”

  The little girl–– her features resembling mine more than Sara’s, raises her teary eyes to me.

  Her soft blonde hair curls at the tips. My eyes slip to her tiny hands, busy plucking whiskers out of a cat toy.

  “What’s the problem, now?” I ask Sara softly.

  “Our favorite bear toy perished into a washer accident,” she says under her breath. “And the cat won’t do it.”

  “Oh... That’s a big problem,” I say, shaking my head, amused.

  I push the chair back and walk to Emma who’s sitting on a blanket in the middle of the room. Her eyes follow me, curious, as I lower myself to her.

  Her small fingers grab my arm.

  “What about we play a baby bear game?”

  “Baby bear... baby bear,” she singsongs gleefully, her hands clapping.

  The cloud of sadness fades away, a dash of sunshine glinting in her eyes.

  My lips curl into a smile, and her eyes brighten up even more. She pushes up to her little feet, struggling to maintain her balance on her short, wobbly legs.

  I help her stand.

  “Now, Emma here...” I say, rising to my feet and holding her hand as I step behind her and wink at Sara, “Emma is our baby bear.”

  I wrap one arm around her small body, loop the other under her legs and swing her up to me. Crystalline laughter fills the room, and Sara’s eyes glisten with the mist of tears.

  I nuzzle the soft skin of Emma’s neck and tickle her belly, and then I swing her up in the air a few more times, tears of joy rolling down her pink cheeks.

  “Okay. Now, can we have some ice cream?” I ask, ambling to the kitchen table, sliding in my chair with her on my lap.

  Sara pulls the cup away from Emma.

  “She’s gonna stick her fingers in it,” she says as I motion to her to leave it on the table.

  “That’s okay. You know we’ll eventually eat with our fingers. Isn’t it so?” I ask, looking at Emma.

  She tips her head up to catch my gaze, her fingers poking at my face.

  “Good luck with that,” Sara says, chuckling softly as she pushes out of her chair. “I’ll be back as soon as I finish with the interview. Are you going out tonight?” she asks, a sliver of concern threading through her voice.

  “No, not tonight,” I say with a different voice, and then I press my lips on Emma’s hair. “If mommy comes home early, we’ll catch a movie with baby bear.”

  Sara searches my eyes for a moment.

  We never talk about my weekend evenings. We’ve been dancing around the subject for some time, and she never pressed me. I never volunteered the information either, but I know she’s worried. If nothing else for the wounds I bring home with me.

  Sometimes.

  “That’s good,” she says, her eyes gleaming with a smile.

  Just as she gets ready to pull away, chocolate-smeared fingers attack me in a delicious war.

  Stripes of ice cream melt on my face.

  “Cool. That’s exactly what I needed, baby bear,” I say.

  Emma starts to laugh.

  “I told you she was going to do that,” Sara says.

  Smiling, she grabs a napkin and cleans Emma’s fingers before she wipes the chocolate from my chin.

  “By the way... I’ll be away next week,” I say, the words slipping out as I kiss Emma’s little fingers.

  Sara’s eyes cut at me.

  I feel her stare and questioning look, but I evade her gaze.

  Instead, I flash a grin to Emma who’s cooing in my arms.

  “I’ll take two days off from work and leave on Thursday,” I say.

  “Where?”

  Her voice is soft, still harboring concern.

  “Here in Florida. There’s nothing to be worried about,” I say and grin again as I push my chair back and lift Emma
with me. “Let’s wish mommy ‘Good luck!’”

  Sara’s arms lock around us as Emma giggles in the middle. To Emma’s delight, we kiss each other’s cheeks.

  Her hands shoot up in the air.

  “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” she chants, and we kiss her cheeks as well.

  Her eyes sparkle, filled with joy, her innocence making me soft inside.

  Sara breaks away, grappling with emotions. She grabs her phone, and purse, and walks away, waving us goodbye from the doorway.

  As soon as the door shuts, Emma, and I head to the living room.

  “What else can we give to the baby bear?” I murmur, sifting through her toys.

  “Story,” she says.

  “Story it is. A story about a bear,” I say, suggesting a theme.

  “Princess...” she mumbles.

  “All right... We can do a princess.”

  Oh, that sounds bad. I rephrase it for her.

  “We can tell a princess story.”

  We glide onto the sofa, crayons, and a paper pad in her lap, her back tucked against my chest.

  “Who’s drawing?” I ask.

  “Jaden...” she chirps.

  “All right. I’m drawing,” I say picking up a crayon.

  Her head leans against my shoulder, her hands reaching for my hair.

  “Once upon a time... there was a princess...” I say, drawing the first lines. “She had chocolate long hair and hazelnut eyes...”

  SENNA

  It’s already one o’clock in the afternoon, and my heart beats to tear my ribcage open.

  As if grappling with jitters is not bad enough, panic courses through me as I remember why I’m going where I’m going. As much as I hate it, soon I’ll have to face my family. After nearly five years of silence, that’s a scary thought.

  I drop my suitcase in my SUV and double check the garment bags carrying a few evening gowns, and a couple of tuxedos.

  A smile tilts my lips as his memory comes to me.

  Hmm… Jaden Taylor. Hopefully, he’ll keep my mind away from things.

  It’s almost two o’clock in the afternoon when I pull in front of Jill’s. It doesn’t take long before I start glancing up and down the street, looking for him.

  I wish I had his phone number.

  Nervous, I check the time again. The thing is, if he doesn’t show up I don’t want to go either.

  Before I know it, it’s thirty minutes past the hour. I almost pull a muscle craning my neck out and surveilling the street, hoping to get a glimpse of him. As time goes by, it becomes evident that he won’t show up.

  Forty-five minutes later, I’m still in the parking lot only because I’m debating whether to eat at Jill’s or not before I go home. Pressing my forehead against the steering wheel, I let out a long exhale.

  My fucking luck.

  I finally straighten my back and run my hand through my hair, tossing a glance in the rearview mirror.

  Okay. I guess. I’ll eat, go home, and forget about this.

  A soft knock on the side window makes my heart jump. I roll it down.

  Hand braced against my car, Jaden looks at me.

  I’m stuck for a moment as I get lost in his stunning blue-gray eyes I get to see in the daylight for the first time.

  “Yes?” I mutter.

  Honestly, I expect him to come up with an excuse. To blame it on a schedule conflict, something. Anything.

  Apologies would be in order, but that’s too much to ask.

  “I drive,” he says.

  “Oh. You’re coming?” I sneer.

  His lips part and curl, flashing a cocky smile. I instantly regret my choice of words.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, shooting my hand up in the air. “You’ve decided to join me?” I ask, scooting over to the other seat.

  “Yeah...” he says, still smirking.

  He opens the door and throws the duffel bag in the back seat.

  The front door shuts with a muffled sound as he sinks into the driver’s seat.

  “Hopefully, I won’t regret it,” he says, adjusting the chair and the rearview mirror.

  I glance at him and meet his gaze. A shudder falls through me as I drink in his handsome face. I’ve never met someone with such expressive eyes.

  In a fit of wisdom, I swallow my retort, making a mental note to keep my mouth in check from now on.

  “You could’ve shown up in time,” I say.

  “I have.”

  “That’s not in time.”

  “I was here when you pulled up in the parking lot.”

  I whip my head at him and search his eyes.

  He tells the truth.

  “Seriously?”

  “Uh-huh,” he says, throwing me another smirk that renders me hot.

  “Why did you make me wait?”

  “I had second thoughts,” he says, smiling.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No. I wanted to see how long you are willing to wait for me.”

  “Are you serious? What if we had to catch a plane?”

  He glances at me.

  “We had?”

  “No. I’m just saying. You’re supposed to take me seriously.”

  “I am,” he says, calm, and serious, and I have no idea if it means anything to him.

  He pulls his jacket off.

  A scar mars the skin next to an intricate, black tattoo that wraps around his arm. His muscles flex, his biceps bulging as his chest tightens, hard beneath his T-shirt.

  My eyes drop to his flat abdomen, slowly drifting lower.

  He catches sight of my inspection. Stretching a knowing grin, he runs his fingers through his hair, combing it all back. Light washes over his features. I realize how young he looks.

  “You said no fucking. Why are you checking me out?” he throws at me.

  I shift my gaze away.

  “Habit,” I say as I look out the window.

  “Are you horny or something?”

  “I’m not horny,” I say, flicking my eyes to him.

  “I think you are,” he says, his gaze slanting to my hard nipples, straining against my T-shirt.

  My cheeks get flushed.

  “Are we going or not?” I ask, exasperated.

  “Buckle up, sweetheart,” he says as he shifts gears and steps on the gas, veering into the traffic.

  The first half hour on the highway is akin to the ride from hell. He swings in and out of lanes, stepping hard on the breaks, and pulling away fast, and I congratulate myself for skipping lunch.

  “You know... This is not a motorcycle.”

  He gives me a cheeky smile, and I think I got my wish granted. He’ll take my mind off a lot of things.

  I can tell he’s going to be a handful if nothing else for the emotions flitting through his eyes at a meteoric speed.

  “Have you ever driven a car on a long trip?” I ask sarcastically.

  “You think?”

  “Do you even have a car? I’ve never seen you driving.”

  “Yes, I do. It’s not exactly mine, and I don’t use it much. I haven’t had my own car in a long time.”

  Oh, that explains a lot.

  Admittedly, he’s an extremely good driver. Spot-on reflexes, good judgment, well-calculated risk.

  Quite the thrill, if you are into roller coasters and you like to wear your lunch.

  “Can you please slow down?” I ask, eyeing the speedometer.

  “You said, we’re late.”

  “We’ll make it. Don’t worry. Just chill.”

  He slows down to a cruising eighty miles per hour, and I let out a sigh of relief.

  “How old are you?” I ask.

  “How old you think I am?”

  “Well... judging by your behavior...”

  He glances at me, his lips creasing into a sexy pout.

  “I’d say... you’re going fifteen?” I mutter.

  He lets out a chuckle, slowly shaking his head.

  “You think you’re cute, huh?” />
  “Actually ‘cute’ is not my style,” I say.

  “I’m twenty-two,” he murmurs.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “You look younger. I mean, now... But you looked older that night...”

  My voice trails off.

  He glances at me a couple of time, his smile slowly dying out.

  Sadness brushes his eyes, killing their light.

  Without slowing down, he stretches out his arm and reaches to the back seat. He grabs his jacket and drags it between us.

  “What do you need?” I ask, yanking the jacket off his hand.

  “My cigarettes.”

  I slip my hand into the pocket, scoop out the pack and the lighter. I retrieve a cigarette, slide it between my lips, flick the lighter open and let the flame sweep the tip.

  I take a short drag and exhale.

  He gazes at me, his eyes glued to my lips. I lean to his side, while he cranes his neck toward me. I slip the cigarette between his lips, my fingers brushing them briefly.

  His eyes shoot at me, intense, and stripped of innocence, and I back off swiftly, a simmering tension growing in my core.

  I bring my knees together and pull away from him.

  “How old are you?” he asks with a gravelly voice.

  “Guess.”

  “I don’t know... Same? Twenty-two?”

  “I’m twenty-four. “

  He doesn’t say a thing.

  “Do I look twenty-four?” I ask.

  He looks at me as he blows the smoke to the side.

  “No, you don’t. You look younger, but sometimes you feel older,” he says.

  “What do you mean I feel older? How can you feel that?”

  “I can describe it... But that’s what I feel.”

  I tear my gaze away from him and shift it to the window.

  Silence grows between us.

  “What happened to you, Senna?” he asks after a while.

  I don’t look at him. I only stare at the beautiful sky.

  7

  SENNA

  It’s dark when we board the motor yacht.

  The evening is unusually warm for this time of year, the ocean calm, and the breeze gentle.

  We arrive at the resort a couple of hours later than we were supposed to. It’s late enough I don’t have to face my family tonight. The staff members take our bags and show us to our place, swiftly making themselves invisible.