Page 8 of Madd Love

Nothing, as far as I’m concerned; he’s only here because he saw me out with John, and that made him jealous. He didn’t like that he might have to share his plaything.

That’s all he sees me as, anyway.That’s all this has ever been, a hook-up, a friend with benefits, a fuck buddy. That was okay at first, but I want more for myself now. And, well, Maddox doesn’t want to be in the running.

“Tell her you’re mine.”

The words sound perfect, but I know him. I know how he likes to talk like I mean something to him. It’s a game, part of his act. He flirts with every woman; he can’t help himself.Hell, I bet he was flirting with Evelyn in front of Atticus just now. It’s who the man is.

“I’ll get right on that.” I roll my eyes, and Maddox scoffs before closing the distance between us. I could reach out and touch him. Run my fingers over the lines of the tattoo on his neck.

Or my tongue.

Chemistry has never been our problem.

“How was your date withJohn?” He says John’s name like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“Good, actually.” It really was. We had a good time and talked about many different subjects. The conversation was easy; we had a lot in common.

“Did you fuck him?”

“That’s none of your business.”Of course, I didn’t and would be honest about that under normal circumstances. But I can’t tell this man I haven’t been with anyone since we met. It sounds almost as pathetic as it is.

Maddox laughs sarcastically. “You are my business, Jen. I’m not sure why that’s so hard for you to understand. If it involves you, I’m fucking involved.”

“Oh my God, is that Maddox Case?”

I whip my head to the right as a gaggle of young women comes barreling down the sidewalk and aimed toward us.

“It is him!”

The high-pitched shrill nearly splits my eardrum, but then phones come out, and flashes blast us as I raise my hand, shielding my eyes. Their chatter grows louder as they begin to surround Maddox. They are relentlessly chatting him up, snapping selfies with him, and touching him all over.

I’m in shock, but not Madd; he handles it like the seasoned pro he is. He takes a few steps back from me, his green eyes locked on mine. Those damn dimples of his are on display as he smiles for his fans, but that look he’s giving me says if we hadn’t been interrupted, he would have fucked me right here on the sidewalk. And God, does that sound ever so good. But I take the opportunity to head back into the bakery.

The days of my being readily available for the unavailable are over. No matter how fine his tattooed ass is.

SIX

Maddox

Tonight’s show was great, but I can only think about Jen. It’s like she haunts my every waking moment.Like right now, like she always does.

I climb up the steps of our tour bus and sit down on one of the benches at the dinette, dragging my phone out of my pocket. I made the rounds, hit her social media accounts, and saw if she posted anything new while I was on stage for a few hours. After that morning in the alley, I didn’t have another chance to see her before we left on tour. I didn’t want to call her and try to have this much-needed conversation over the phone. I also didn’t want to allow her to hang up on me.

Instead of hanging out, having a drink, playing around, and trying to write some tunes, I’m scrolling through my damn phone, looking at pictures I have taken of us or the ones of her that I have stolen from her social media accounts for the last few months. I am what some would call a pathetic fool.

“Anyone want to play strip poker?”

I look up to see Tyson with his arm wrapped around one of our groupies; oh wait, not just a groupie but Tricia, Beck’s sleazy ex-girlfriend. He sure as hell made an upgrade. She comesaround from time to time, trying to hit up on the other band members. She wants to get her picture in a magazine or celebrity gossip show. Beck said not to ban her. I say he’s too nice for his good, but what does he care? He has Glory, and they are so in love it borders on disgusting.

Huxley and Silas, who each have a couple of girls tucked under their arms, climb on behind them.

My phone chimes with a notification, and when I see that Jen has posted something on her page, I can’t open it fast enough. I hope it’s a picture of her.

“What the fuck?” I mumble as I can feel my annoyance heating my cheeks.

Oh, it’s a picture, all right, a picture of Jen and John. Their heads touch as they smile for the camera and clink their wine glasses.

Stop touching my woman!

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