Jax gave her a long, rude look, starting at the top of her head and ending at the toes of her shiny red boots. "In that getup?" he said. "You'll find one easy enough."
She gave a little gasp. "Just what are you implying?"
"If you don't know, I'm not gonna explain." With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He tapped something onto the screen and shoved the phone back into his pocket.
He then looked to me and said, "You ready?"
I gave a confused shake of my head. "For what?"
"You owe me."
He was right. I did owe him. But the reminder did nothing to ease my embarrassment. I glanced around, unsure how to respond.
And then, he reached for my hand. "A dance, remember?"
Chapter 13
I remembered no such thing, but I knew an escape route when I saw it. With a grateful smile, I let him lead me toward the front of the house and tried – not terribly hard, I'll admit – to not take any satisfaction from the look on the redhead's face as we passed.
She didn't look smug now, and no one was snickering.
Jax and I were halfway to the front when my steps faltered. "Oh, no."
He stopped moving. "What?"
"My champagne." I glanced back over my shoulder. "I must've left it near the powder room."
He smiled. "Don't worry. There's plenty more."
"I know. I'm not worried about that," I said. "I just don't want to leave a mess. Like, what if someone spills it?"
"Then someone'll clean it up," he said. "Not a big deal." He gave a gentle tug on my hand. "Now come on. It's our song."
We had no song, at least not yet. Still, I listened. The song was purely instrumental and probably a hundred years old. But I liked it. It was slow and sultry, like the prelude to a kiss.
As we moved through the crowd, I glanced around. "Where's the music coming from, anyway?"
"When we get there, you'll see."
He was right. I did see as soon as we entered a sizeable room off to the side. Here, the crowd was noticeably older, but that wasn't the thing that surprised me. It was the presence of a full band – meaning at least a dozen musicians, all decked out in formal attire. Like something out of the movies, they were playing atop a raised platform on the room's far side.
Silently, Jax led me to the middle of the dance floor and gathered me close like he knew exactly what he was doing.
And just like that, we were dancing. For a long, lingering moment, I let myself savor the feel of him as we swayed in time with the music.
None of this felt real. None of this looked real either, and part of me wanted to check for hidden cameras or to listen for a movie director to suddenly holler out, "Cut!"
But all I saw were other couples, and all I heard was music blended with the muted sounds of glasses clinking and laughter coming from the other room.
I felt like I could do this all night, sway in his arms like this was the only reality that mattered. But this wasn't the case, and there was something I needed to say. "Thanks." I laughed awkwardly against his shoulder. "Again."
"For what?" he asked.
"You know. For rescuing me. And what was that? The millionth time?"
With a hint of humor, he said, "How do you know you weren't rescuing me?"
I pulled back and gave him a playful eye-roll. "Oh, please. We both know that's not true."
"Yeah? That's what you think."
As thankful was I was, there was still something I needed to know. "You wouldn't've really broken her arm, would you?"
"I never said I would."
I didn't want to contradict him, especially considering that he'd threatened her on my behalf. Still, I couldn't let it go. Trying to keep my tone light, I said, "Are you sure about that?"
"I know what I said."
"Right." I hesitated. "And so do I."
"Do you?"
"You, um, threatened to break her arm."
He shook his head. "Nope."
"Sorry, what?"
"I never said that."
At something in my expression, he added, "I told her she'd be looking at a broken arm. Big difference."
I tried not to scoff. "How is that different?"
"I didn't say I'd break it."
"So what were you saying?" I asked. "You'd have someone else break it?"
He looked at me for a long moment before saying, "I don't beat up on girls, if that's what you're asking."
Funny, it was what I'd been asking, but I was too embarrassed to admit it. On top of that, his logic was shady at best, and I wasn't blind to the fact that he still hadn't answered my question. Not really.
Would he have someone else break her arm? If so, that seemed like a distinction without a difference.
Before I could try for a better answer, he posed a question of his own. "Who was she?"
"You mean the woman in the red boots?"
"Yeah." He frowned. "Her."
"Well…" I sighed. "She's sort of my aunt, but not really."
"Not really," he repeated, as if wanting more information.
"The thing is," I explained, "she and my mom are really close – like sisters in a way – so I've always had to call her 'aunt,' even though I don't anymore."
"Since when?" he asked.
I gave a nervous laugh. "Since about five minutes ago, actually."
"Good," he said. "And your mom, what's she doing?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, she lets her friend treat you like that?" His voice grew just a shade colder. "Why?"
I so didn't want to say, but he'd done so much for me already that I felt compelled to be honest. "If I had to guess, I think it's probably because she…" I hesitated. "…sort of treats me the same way." I summoned up a tentative smile. "You've met her actually."
"The chick in the limo?" He paused. "That's your mom?"
Just like too many other times tonight, I felt my face burn with raw embarrassment. I gave a silent nod before saying, "So I guess I should apologize, huh?"
"For what?"
"Well, for the way she was acting, I guess."
"Why should you apologize?" A distinct edge crept into his voice. "She's the skank, not you."
I didn't like him calling her a skank. Maybe it was true, and it was definitely justified. But who wants to be the daughter of a skank? What if skankiness ran in the family?
If so, I was totally doomed.
From the little I knew of my grandmother, the trend was definitely there.
His voice softened. "Listen, I don't mean to insult you, but a woman like that? She's not fit to be called mom."
Probably, he was right. But emotionally, he had no idea what I was going through. How could he? Obviously, he'd grown up under very different circumstances.
Probably, his mom was some sort of socialite who never felt compelled to use her charms – or whatever you called it – to make ends meet.
Trying not to sound as low as I felt, I said, "Well, she's the only mom I have, so…" I gave a tight shrug and didn't bother continuing.
"So…?" he prompted.
"So, it's not like I can get a replacement."
At this, he actually smiled. "You'd be surprised."
I should've smiled back. But I couldn’t. Not now. The whole sordid conversation was a grim reminder that my mom was here of all places. So instead, I leaned into Jax and tried not to think about it.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to make myself stop. Probably, my mom was looking for me right now. I wasn't so naive as to think that Tabitha had been the only one to spot me. Cripes, for all I knew, my mom was the one who'd sent her to get the dress.
Even as Jax held me so blissfully close, I found myself scanning our surroundings, dreading yet another ugly confrontation.
I tried to tell myself that probably wouldn't be nearly as dreadful as I feared. After all, Dominic was here, and she'd surely want to impress him, right?
Of course, that didn't mean I wouldn�
��t still be humiliated in some way or another. No matter what, my mom always found a way.
In a fit of frustration, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried for once in my life to live in the moment. It shouldn’t have been so hard. Here I was, dancing with the hottest guy I'd ever met, and he'd been so amazingly wonderful.
Still, a little voice whispered that the dance wouldn’t go on forever, and eventually I'd be facing a different kind of music. For the millionth time, I wondered, where on Earth would I be sleeping tonight?
Jax's voice, low and soothing, brought me back to the present. "You're trembling."
"Am I?"
His voice was very quiet in my ear. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
Damn it. This was such a magical moment, and I was ruining it by worrying what might happen later. I didn't want to ruin anything, especially this dance. It might be our only one.
Desperate for a distraction, I asked, "Is this really your house?"
He pulled back to study my face. "I'll tell you if you tell me."
"Sorry, I'm not following."
"Something's wrong," he said. "Tell me."
I didn't want to tell him. I'd known him for less than two hours, but I'd seen enough of him to know that if he learned that my mom was here, he'd probably feel obligated to do something about it – as if he hadn't done enough for me already.
Skirting the issue, I said, "I was just thinking about my mom. That's all." I summoned up an apologetic smile. "Sorry."
"Don’t be."
Suddenly curious, I said, "Earlier, you didn't notice the resemblance? Between me and my mom, I mean?"
"I noticed," he said. "But I had her pegged for a sister, or maybe a cousin. Your eyes are very different."
Now that surprised me. Our eyes were the exactly same color and shape. "Really?" I said. "Are you sure?"
His gaze locked on mine, and for the briefest instant, I felt like he was peering straight into my soul. "I'm sure," he said, "just like I'm sure you're not telling me the whole story."
Busted.
Again.
I bit my lip. "Well, I guess I'm just wondering…" I gave our surroundings a nervous glance. "What would you do if you saw her again?"
"Your mom? I did see her again, maybe ten minutes ago."
I stopped moving. "So you know she's here."
"Was here," he said. "At least as far as you're concerned."
I gave a little shake of my head. "What do you mean?"
"They're gone."
"Who?"
"Your mom and Dominic Jones."
I should've been relieved, but this posed a whole new set of worries. "You didn't kick them out or anything, did you?"
His gaze probed mine. "If I did, is that a problem?"
"No." I paused. "And yes. Maybe." I winced. "I just didn't want to cause you any more trouble. Or a scene." Silently, I considered the mansion, the guests, the music, the champagne, hell, even the valet parkers. "I mean, this is a really nice party."
Jax grinned. "It's no party without a scene."
I tried to laugh, but didn't quite succeed. I just had to say, "I bet you're sorry you met me, huh?"
"I'm something," he said, "but it's not sorry. And about your mom?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't worry. Leaving was their idea."
I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "I don't get it. Why would they want to go?"
"Because," he said, "a waiter pitched a tray of champagne onto his lap."
"His lap? When?"
The question had barely left my lips when I heard a crash in the neighboring room. Jax gave me a secret smile. "Now."
I blinked. "What?"
"The champagne thing," he said. "It just happened."
I stared stupidly up at him. "Huh?"
I was still in his arms, and around us, people were still dancing. And right here in the middle, Jax and I stood, utterly motionless in the crowd. If he was embarrassed, he didn't show it.
Oddly enough, I didn't feel it. In truth, I felt shockingly at home.
He shrugged. "Eh, what are you gonna do? These things happen."
I should've been horrified. And yet, I wasn't. "You mean the champagne thing?" I almost wanted to snicker. Was I being awful? Probably. "You made that happen, didn't you?"
"Me?" He gave me a look of mock innocence. "Nah. I've got better things to do."
"Like what?"
"Like this." And with that, he pulled me closer in his arms and began moving in time with the music. As he did, I felt my worries drift away like rainclouds after a storm.
His arms felt strong, and his movements felt sure and steady. I leaned my face against his chest and let my eyes drift, getting lost in the music and the feel of his body moving against mine.
It was like a dream, and for once, I let myself get lost in it. The music changed, drifting from one song to the next. But he didn't pull away, and neither did I.
I swear, we might've stayed like that forever if a stranger hadn't broken the spell.
Chapter 14
The stranger was a big, broad-shouldered man in a dark business suit. He was telling Jax, "I'm sorry, but you said to let you know."
Around us, plenty of people were still dancing, and I tried not to look as awkward as I felt. Jax and I would still be dancing, too, if only the stranger hadn't just tapped him on the shoulder and whispered something too low for me to make out.
So now, here we were, the three of us, standing motionless among the crowd. In a low voice, Jax told the guy, "Tell him to get the car. I'll meet him out front."
With a tight nod, the guy turned and strode away. I watched in silence as he made his way through the crowd and disappeared into the neighboring room. More confused than ever, I turned to Jax.
His posture was stiff, and yet, he gave me a smile. "Sorry, but there's something I've gotta handle."
Obviously.
Pushing aside my disappointment, I forced a smile, too. "Sure, I understand. And um, thanks for the dance." Stupidly, I wondered if I should've thanked him for the dances, as in plural, because we'd been out here for quite some time.
Reaching for my hand, Jax started guiding us toward the neighboring room. As he moved, he snagged another glass of champagne and handed it to me, saying, "Here. A replacement."
I knew what he meant. It was a replacement for the glass I'd abandoned earlier. I took a tiny sip as we moved closer to the front entrance.
When we reached the door, he turned to face me. "Listen, don't go anywhere, okay?"
I glanced around. The party was in full-swing and showed no signs of ending any time soon. Still, I dreaded the thought of staying on my own, even if had nowhere else to go.
I gave the door a nervous glance. Maybe I could catch a cab?
But to where?
And with what?
Jax said, "You can't leave. You know that, right?"
I was still thinking. "I can't? Why not?"
"Because you're my girlfriend, remember? If you ditch me now, what'll they say?"
I almost laughed. One thing I knew for certain. This wasn't a guy who obsessed over the opinions of others. I saw his argument for what it was – a way for me to stay under the happy illusion that I was doing this for him and not for myself.
Just then, Jaden appeared out of nowhere and said to Jax, "You ready?"
Jax looked to me and said, "You’re staying, right?"
Unsure what else to do, I gave him a short nod and then watched as the brothers turned and disappeared out the front door.
I stood there for a long moment, sipping my champagne and wondering what on Earth was going on. I still hadn't moved when a female voice said, "So he ditched you, huh?"
I turned to look and stifled a groan. It was the redhead. Of course.
She was eying me with obvious satisfaction. "Wanna know what I think?"
Not particularly. But I didn't say it, mostly because it was pretty obvious that she'd be sharing her opinion no matter what.
Sure enough, she said, "I think he's tired of you already."
When I made no reply, she added, "And just so you know, I didn't buy that whole 'girlfriend' story. And you wanna know why?"
I sighed. "Not really."
Sure enough, she told me anyway. "Because I don't know you." She smiled. "And I know everyone."
"Well, goodie for you," I said, turning away. Before I could take a single step, a hand clamped onto my elbow.
When I whirled to look, she said, "You're not gonna land him, you know."
I almost laughed in her face. "Land him? What, like he's a fish or something?"
"If he is," she said, "he's the biggest fish of all, and I've been dangling my fine hook for a long time, chickie."
Again with the chickie?
I forced a smile. "Really? Where do you keep it?"
"Keep what?"
"The hook."
"Oh, shut up," she said. "You know what I meant."
Yes. I did. But I was so tired of this. Her hand was still on my elbow, and for some reason, it reminded me of my mom.
She was still talking. "And I'll tell you one thing for damn sure, I'm not going to be pushed aside by some nobody in a fake dress."
I looked down. Was my dress a fake? It could be, not that I cared. I hadn't checked the label, and even if I had, odds were pretty good that I wouldn't've recognized it, anyway.
Still, her words found their mark – not because of the dress, but because it was a grim reminder that I didn't belong here.
Belatedly, it hit me that Jax had never answered my question.
Was this his house? I thought it was. But if not, I was crashing someone else's party.
What if I was about to be tossed out on my ass?
As if sensing my uncertainty, the redhead said, "I'm right. Aren't I?"
I so hated this. I yanked my arm out of her grasp and said, "Listen, snookems—"
She stiffened. "Stop calling me that."
Well, that was rich. Ignoring her protest, I finished what I'd been about to say. "I don’t know what's going on between the two of you, but I'm not involved, and I don't want to be."
"Oh, but you are," she said, "because you're playing where you don't belong." She made a show of looking around. "Just answer me one question. Who do you know?"
"What do you mean?"
One Good Crash Page 6
