Page 25 of Defiant
“To what part?”
“All of it.”
Me, grumpy? Sure, I guess I could see it. But old? I wasn’t that old. It was like what Dante said all over again—except worse, because…because of who it’d come from.
Even though it was wrong, even though I knew this thought shouldn’t cross my mind, I didn’t want Jaz to think of me as old. She could think of her mother as old, of Oliver Fitzpatrick as old, but me? I didn’t want to be lumped in with them.
I wanted this girl to think of me differently.
I also took issue with how she called herself sweet and innocent. I might not have known her that well, but I knew she was no such thing.
Jaz let out a fluttery sigh, reaching over the table and plucking a fry off my plate. I hadn’t taken a single bite in a while; less than half my food was left, but she didn’t seem to care. She made a big show of chewing it, keeping eye contact with me all the while. “Vaughn Scott is the whole reason I thought to contact you, you know,” she said. “I’ll have to remember to thank him.”
Though I didn’t particularly like hearing about a Scott—probably the same Scott she accepted help from—I found myself asking, “Why?” If Vaughn Scott hadn’t sent her my way, somehow, odds were I still would’ve been hired by Mr. Anonymous, and then I would’ve had to find a way to integrate myself into her life, anyway. I supposed, maybe, I did owe that one a thank-you.
Not that I would ever admit that out loud.
Once she was done eating the fry, Jaz grinned, flashing me her pearly whites. “Because I’m man enough to admit that I like you. I find your bubbly personality refreshing.” Her sarcasm was dry, and she let out a giggle as she lifted her legs, resting her feet on the space on the booth beside me. Her legs were…far too close to mine.
She liked me. I wasn’t stupid enough to think she meant it like that.
Actually, I wasn’t quite sure how the hell she meant it at all.
I glanced at her feet, her shoes only an inch away from my hip, before meeting her eyes. She lost her sarcasm, speaking quietly, “No, I…you’re not like anyone else in Midpark. I didn’t realize it before, but I do now.” She shrugged. “So, yeah, it might be weird, but I don’t care. You’re not a bad man, Jacob Hall, even if you are hella expensive.”
I rubbed my cheek, fighting the smile I felt forming. Her compliments would get her nowhere; I wasn’t sure what she was hoping to accomplish with me, but…
She said I wasn’t like anyone else in Midpark, but she was wrong. I wasn’t a good man, so she was wrong there, too. If I told her the entire truth, that someone else had hired me to keep an eye on her, would she still say those things? I highly doubted it.
I finished eating, ignoring her stretched legs. After reassuring her that I would still keep up my investigation into the Scotts—she was okay with me laying off Oliver for now, if I was sure he wouldn’t hurt her or her mother, which I was—I paid the tab and we left.
The car was mostly silent as I drove her to the Fitzpatrick’s. I had to stop the car a ways away, so the guard on duty wouldn’t see Jaz getting out of my car. It was the same daytime guard as three years ago; he wouldn’t recognize my car, since I’d always been in a police cruiser, but he would recognize me—and having Oliver aware of my closeness to Jaz was something I wanted to avoid.
“Thank you for driving me home,” Jaz spoke, unbuckling her seatbelt and shooting me a smile.
“Just add it to your next payment—” I hardly got the words out before I heard her start to laugh, and I shot her what I hoped was an evil look. “I mean it. I’m not your chauffeur—” I stopped when I watched her lean over the center console, run a hand along my cheek.
Her touch was…way too soft. Knowing how her hand felt on my face was not something I wanted to be aware of.
But then she pinched my cheek and spoke like she was talking to a cherub child and not me, “Whatever you say, Mr. Grumps.” I swatted her away, but it was too late; she was already moving away and hopping out of my car, grinning ear to ear like she’d gotten away with something.
I scowled.
After shutting the door, she turned and gave me a wave before walking off. I watched her go for as long as I could, hating the ghostly sensation tickling my cheek, where she’d touched before pinching me. I tried to shake it off, tried to itch my cheek and give my skin something new to feel, but it didn’t help.
It was like that quick touch had sparked something in me, something I’d been trying to push down this entire time.
Fuck.
Chapter Eight – Jaz
Friday morning, I gathered the money under my mattress—deciding I was going to slip it into my mom’s purse before school. The car would cost more than that to repair, but it was a start. I’d figure out a way to explain it later.
Luckily, with everything going on with the car, Mom had cooled off after the party thing, our little fight mostly forgotten. I still wanted to talk to her about Dad, but I couldn’t even think about doing it right now, not while I had revenge on the brain. Those bullies would get theirs, mark my words.
Mom wasn’t exactly okay with me walking to school, but I wore her down, saying I couldn’t keep bugging my friends for rides.
Hah, like I had friends. Funny, I knew.
