Heat traveled through Jamie’s body as she fought to suppress the desire dripping between her legs. CT spotted her first. They locked eyes and he froze, releasing the bassist.
“Walk much douche bag?” Ryder grunted, pushing him forward.
“Take the stick out of your ass and look,” CT nodded in Jamie’s direction.
Taking a deep breath, Jamie forced a smile onto her face. She focused on Sean. She couldn’t crack now. She’d come this far and it was too late to back down.
Don’t look.
James, don’t look.
Fuck.
She looked. Ryder’s hazels found her green. His mouth tipped up into a devastatingly gorgeous grin, one that said, gotcha.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
It was official, she had zero self-control.
“Grant, guys, this is our cameraman, Reuben,” Sean introduced, oblivious to the interaction happening behind him. Reuben, however, was more perceptive, raising a questioning brow towards her. Jamie shook it off, silently assuring him it was nothing. Judging by the look he gave her, he didn’t believe her. Sean continued with the introductions. He pulled her forward, his hand lingering on the small of her back. “This is Jamie. She’s going to do the interview.”
“Jamie, huh?” Ryder snorted, his grin long gone. He narrowed in on the place where Sean’s hand and her body met. In the span of ten seconds the atmosphere on the stage went from casual to intense as awkward silence filled the air.
“Hi,” Jamie said, stepping out of Sean’s embrace. She plastered on a plastic smile, and extended her hand. “It’s really nice to meet you all.”
Jamie prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her whole, while Sean explained how the segment would go. It was simple, a short question and answer session, then the guys would perform. Grant listened intently, while Ryder stood, brooding. The other two idiots thought it was the funniest thing they’d ever witnessed.
“Alright, I’ll leave you guys to it,” Sean said, excusing himself. The twelve o’clock broadcast would be starting soon and he needed to head back to the newsroom.
Everyone took their seats as Reuben counted them down and work Jamie took control. “Hi, I’m Jamie Manning, in for Sarah Lawson, and you’re watching WSEA-9’s The Local Spotlight. This week in studio, I’m joined by Lithium Springs, an up and coming band who recently began a residency at local pub, The Rabbit Hole. Welcome,” she said, turning to the band. “Why don’t you guys introduce yourselves.”
The camera panned to the three men, and the bass player was the first to speak, “I’m Javi, I play bass.”
“I’m the drummer, CT.” He waved awkwardly to the camera before his eyes bounced back to Jamie.
Ryder rolled his eyes, mumbling out his name and position as lead singer and guitarist. Javi and CT looked at him sideways. His arms were crossed over his chest and his scowl from earlier returned. Apparently, he wasn’t okay with pretending.
“Lithium Springs, that’s an interesting name. Where did it come from?” Jamie asked, choosing to ignore the pouting singer.
“Lithium has the atomic number three, and there are three of us. It’s a highly reactive element, when combined with water it’s explosive, like our music,” CT explained, miming an explosion with his hands.
Jamie continued to ask the questions she had prepared, feeling more like a robot, and not paying any attention to the answers they gave as she tried to convince herself that she was unaffected by Ryder’s proximity.
“How long have you guys been playing together?”
CT answered again. “About five, or six years now. It started as something to do to stay out of trouble and it kind of evolved.”
“Where did you meet?”
“My older brother and Ryder were friends in school and I was always tagging along. We both had a passion for music, but it wasn’t until Ry met CT a few years later that everything just clicked.”
“And how did you two meet?” Jamie asked Ryder directly, other than his name, he hadn’t spoken a word.
“In juvie,” he said roughly.
Jamie opened her mouth to continue but Grant yelled from the sideline, “Hold on, maybe don’t mention the prison thing.”
“Why not?” Ryder huffed.
“You can’t tell a bunch of middle aged people you met in jail. It’s bad for your brand.”
“But it’s the truth,” Ryder argued, “and it’s exactly our brand.”
Grant pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought the point of this was to get more people to the show?”
“They should know what the fuck they’re in for.” Ryder stared at Grant impassively. CT and Javi remained silent. Rueben cracked his knuckles. Jamie should have known Karma wasn’t going to take it easy on her. If she didn’t get this footage, it would be the first missed episode since the introduction of The Local Spotlight. Not only would Jamie be letting herself down, but she’d be letting down Tina and Sarah as well.
“Look, I know you guys think this is lame, but trust me, marketing yourselves to a wider audience is the smart thing to do, especially if you’re serious about this,” Grant reasoned.
Ryder turned to CT. “Can you please explain to your brother that we aren’t interested in selling out?”
Jamie shifted in her seat, debating on if she should interject. Ryder was being pissy because of her, but Grant was right, almost no one showed up opening night. They needed to market themselves better. “It isn’t about selling out,” she began, “it’s about making yourselves visible to a wider audience. Your music speaks for itself. You guys are talented, charismatic, and authentic. It will translate, I promise.”
“Fuck this,” Ryder seethed, jumping to his feet. “I’m out.”
“Ry,” CT said, trying unsuccessfully to grab a hold of his arm, “slow down, dude.”
Jamie fought the urge to follow him, her subconscious need to soothe him. She told herself this was work, and her wanting to help wasn’t personal. It wasn’t her heart telling her to go to him, she was simply trying to finish the job.
“We got it,” Javi called over his shoulder as he and CT chased Ryder out the door.
Jamie, Reuben, and Grant, sat in silence, unsure of what to do next.
“I’m sorry about Ry,” Grant said after a few minutes passed.
“It’s fine.” She smiled up at the man who resembled an un-tattooed version of CT.
“No, it’s not. We’re wasting your time. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do.”
“It’s kind of my job,” she shrugged.
Silence fell upon them again. So much time passed, Jamie wondered if they were ever coming back. She began rehearsing how she was going to tell Tina about this mess, when the sound of Grant’s voice filled the air once more. “I don’t mean to be forward, but would you like to maybe grab some dinner or something, sometime?”
Jamie looked at him in confusion, unable to process what was happening. “Are you asking me out?” she asked looking at Grant, then to Reuben for confirmation. The cameraman rolled his eyes, unimpressed by the whole thing.
“I think I am,” Grant grinned.
Before she could answer, before she could even process what was happening, she was pulled from her stool. “Fuck off Grant,” Ryder growled, leading her by the elbow.
The look in Grant’s eyes was one of pure confusion. He took a step forward, reaching for Jamie’s other hand.
“Give them a minute, bro,” CT said, pushing his brother back onto the chair. The two men locked eyes, some unspoken conversation passed between them, then Grant backed down.
“You okay, Jamie?” Reuben asked.
“It’s fine. Just give us five minutes,” she said as Ryder dragged her off set. He walked, with her stumbling behind him, until they reached the parking lot.
His anger was palpable. “Are you fucking that douche bag, Sean?”
Cars whizzed past, a cool breeze blew Jamie’s hair in every direction
. “That’s none of your business,” she huffed, tucking wayward strands behind her ears.
“Are. You. Fucking. Him?” Ryder repeated.
“This is so unprofessional,” she shook her head in disbelief. “I could get into deep shit for this.”
“Is he your boyfriend or something? Is that why you ran? Why you refused to tell me your name?”
“Why do you care? We had sex, that’s it. Get the fuck over it.”
Ryder was on her in an instant, his lips inches from hers. “Come on Kitty Cat, you and I both know this is more than just sex.”
“Sean is not my boyfriend. I don’t do the boyfriend thing. Are you happy now?” She exhaled, dropping her gaze. His intensity was overwhelming.
“Have lunch with me?” he asked, lifting her chin.
“I just want to finish this interview so I can go home,” Jamie sighed, doing her best to ignore his intoxicating scent. It was a mix of soap, Ryder, and fresh air. He smelled of freedom, and of the ocean, her happy place.
“Tell me you don’t feel it, this thing between us. Tell me I don’t affect you the same way you affect me and I’ll back off.”
Of course, she was affected by him. She felt his possession bone deep. It would take an exorcism to expel him from her body.
Ryder was a bad idea, but then again, when did Jamie ever do anything good?
“What I feel for you is purely sexual. You’re like some sort of a sex god, but I told you, I don’t do the boyfriend thing.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up into a crooked grin. “Sex god?”
“Shut up,” Jamie said pushing him backward.
Cocky son of a bitch.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Ryder caught her wrist, wrapping her arms around his waist. He looked down at her with a combination of lust and adoration. It was affection, and way too much of it. It made her uncomfortable, and she dropped her gaze once more.
“Let me take you to lunch.”
“You don’t even know me. I could be a serial killer,” she said to the ground.
“You could be, or you could just be a really cool girl I’d like to get to know.”
“Ry—”
“I’m not taking no for an answer Kitty Cat.”
“Fine,” Jamie groaned, burying her head in his chest.
“And if you’re a good little kitten, I’ll let you have this, too,” he muttered, grinding his hips into hers.
Reuben stuck his head out the side door of the station, yelling, “Times up.”
“Coming!” she yelled back, disentangling her limbs from Ryder’s.
“You will be,” he whispered, smacking her ass as she jogged back towards the door.
There were two types of women in the world: ones who drank expensive cocktails at restaurants that boasted local and organic produce, and ones who took their whiskey neat and ate pussy like porn stars. Jamie Manning was firmly and resolutely in the second category.
That’s not to say she wasn’t accustomed to the finer things in life, it was just she didn’t give a fuck about them. If Ryder had to guess, he’d say she’d been to her fair share of Michelin Star establishments. It wasn’t just her custom white Range Rover, the one she let him drive to the diner, but also in the way she carried herself. There was an air about her, not ostentatious, but different, like she came from money.
Over the years, Ryder had gotten good at spotting wealth. His best friend, CT, had a trust fund with more money than most people would ever see in a lifetime, but like Jamie, he didn’t flaunt it. It was subtle. There were little clues, like the way CT pronounced croissants with a French inflection. He wasn’t pretentious, he just grew up vacationing in France. Same with Jamie, she wasn’t a girl who was into labels. She had them, but to her they were just clothes.
Jamie Manning was a puzzle. Last week, he all but convinced himself he had imagined her. Hell, if it weren’t for the claw marks she left on his back, Ryder would have thought he was crazy. Just when he had given up hope of ever seeing her again, BAM, there she was. Ryder didn’t want to do the interview. He bitched about it the entire drive to the station, but thank fuck his bandmates didn’t listen to him. Now, not only did he have a name, he had a lunch date.
Ryder considered taking her to Cibo, the Italian restaurant where he worked, but it didn’t feel right. Not with Jamie. Not when she so clearly gave more of a fuck about what was going on in the Middle East than she did about fine dining. That’s why he drove her fancy car to the old diner on Seventh Street.
The diner was quiet at that time of day; too late for the lunch rush and too early for the dinner crowd. The jukebox hummed an obscure country song as Ryder led the blonde back to his favorite booth. The seats were a hard, shiny, red plastic that felt more like plywood than cushion, and an ever-present layer of syrup coated the table tops. The place wasn’t famous or well known, but they had great food and even better service.
“What are you doing?” Jamie asked as Ryder slid into the booth beside her.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” Ryder dropped his arm around her neck and her body melted into his side. He wondered if she even realized she did it. Jamie spent all her time fighting their attraction but her body always gave her away.
“Most people sit opposite each other,” she quipped, arching her tawny brow. She was amused and a little embarrassed, yet when his shoulder brushed hers, she smiled and rolled her eyes playfully. For the first time, Ryder got a glimpse of the real her, not Kitty Cat, the wild child he fucked in Dave’s office and not reporter Jamie Manning, the consummate professional.
Just Jamie.
He liked Jamie.
“If I sat all the way over there,” Ryder murmured into her ear, “I wouldn’t be able to do this.” His hand slid from her knee up between her legs and cupped her warmth. He thumbed open the button on her gray slacks, and Jamie wiggled underneath him, gnawing her bottom lip. “You like that, Kitty Cat?” he breathed against her neck. His fingers dipped inside her panties. Soft and smooth, and so fucking wet.
“Mmm,” she purred and his dick took notice. This girl was going to be the death of him.
“Napoleon?” the familiar female voice caused Ryder to jump. He pulled his hand from in between Jamie’s legs and smiled up at their waitress, an older blonde woman, the one who gave birth to him.
“Hey Ma,” he smiled, discreetly adjusting his boner. In his defense, she wasn’t supposed to be there. She never worked on Fridays.
Jamie’s eyes widened in embarrassment. “Mom?” she shrieked, pushing his arm from around her shoulder. Her face was as red as a tomato. It was the cutest fucking thing he’d ever seen.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” his mother asked. “And who’s this?”
Annette Ryder was what some people referred to as a helicopter mom, even now, when her son was twenty-six years old, she hovered.
“Mom, this is Jamie. Jamie, this is my mom, Annette.”
“Nice to meet you,” his mom extended her hand to the still pink Jamie. “You look familiar. Do you eat here often?”
“Oh…umm… no ma’am,” Jamie stammered. “I…um…do you watch WSEA-9?”
She was nervous, a side of Jamie he’d never seen. He’d seen her annoyed, and he’d seen her naked, but seeing her nervous was by far his favorite. Scratch that—naked was Ryder’s favorite—nervous was a close second, though.
“Ahh,” recognition washed over Annette’s face, “you did a story about the Easter egg hunts. A little girl peed on you.”
“That’s me,” Jamie nodded.
Irony was spending a week obsessing over a missed connection when all Ryder had to do was turn on Channel 9 News.
“Pretty and smart,” Annette beamed.
Ryder hadn’t planned on this meeting, but he was glad it was going well. His mother was the most important woman in his life, and Kitty Cat, whether she liked it or not, wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon.
“She’s alright,” Ryder teas
ed.
“Is that why you forced me to have lunch with you? Because I’m alright?” Jamie retorted. And just like that, nervous Jamie was gone and in her place, was the take-no-shit version he had quickly grown accustomed to. Actually, this was his favorite Jamie. Strong, beautiful, brave.
Annette’s head fell back, her body shook with laughter. “I like her.”
“Me too,” Ryder said, eyeing the girl with the sarcastic smirk on her face.
“What do you kids want to drink?”
“I’ll just have water, please, Ma’am.”
“Annette, not Ma’am, okay?” Kitty Cat nodded her agreement then Annette pointed her pencil at her son. “You’re usual?”
“Please.”
His mother nodded. “I’ll be right back. Try to keep your hands out of her pants while I’m gone.”
Jamie’s face was red again. “I’m going to kill you, Napoleon.”
“Can you just pretend you didn’t hear that?” Ryder didn’t think bringing Kitty Cat to the diner all the way through. He’d inadvertently revealed his deepest, darkest secret, Napoleon.
“It’s…interesting,” she laughed. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders, messy and imperfect, a stark contrast from the woman who interviewed him.
“She wanted me to have a strong name,” Ryder defended.
“So she chose a dictator?” Jamie barely finished the sentence before the dam broke. She laughed so loud and for so long a cute little snort escaped her throat, which only caused her to laugh harder.
“You know what, fuck you,” Ryder grinned despite himself. Her happiness, even at his expense, was infectious. The way the corners of her eyes crinkled, the sound of her high-pitched giggle, all of it, every part of Jamie’s joy fed his muse. It was like she was singing directly to his heart.
Lithium Waves: A Lithium Springs Novel Page 5
