Page 32 of Enemies Off Camera
And still—I didn’t hang up.
TWENTY-FOUR
The night is bitter cold—just above freezing.
I forgot a coat. Didn’t bring a jacket. I nearly ducked into a department store to grab something off the rack, but I couldn’t risk being recognized.
So I walk fast.
I only really feel the cold when I stop at a crosswalk or hit a red light. Otherwise, as long as I keep moving and avoid the main crowds, I stay warm enough. And unnoticed.
I’m standing in front of a closed hair salon and barbershop on 6th Avenue. I have no idea what Jaxon’s car looks like, but I gave him the address and he agreed to pick me up. That was seventeen minutes ago.
I check the time on my phone again, wondering if he’s actually coming—or if he said yes just to screw with me. That would be more in line with what I’ve come to expect from the people who drift into my life. I often ask myself how I keep attracting the same kind of assholes. Friends or lovers, it doesn’t seem to matter—they’re all smiles at first, all charm and sweetness, until one day—out of nowhere—they start proving I can’t trust them. And once they start, they don’t stop.
Still, to Jaxon’s credit, he’s never pretended to be nice. He’s been a jerk since day one.
I shiver as I sigh, just about ready to give up and figure out another plan.
Then a huge black SUV rolls up in front of me. The passenger-side door swings open automatically. Jaxon’s behind the wheel.
I rush inside like my life depends on it, shut the door, and hug myself as the heat begins to thaw my bones.
“You okay?” Jaxon asks, reaching to turn up the heat.
“My own fault. I forgot to bring a jacket,” I say through chattering teeth.
He suddenly climbs out of the vehicle. Cold air rushes in as the back hatch opens. Moments later, the motorized door shuts again, and he reappears.
“Cover up,” he says, handing me a long, black cashmere duster.
It smells divine—his cologne. It’s the same scent I caught in the elevator that day we were headed to our first meeting with Anne and Roger. He never wore it on set. Maybe that’s for the best. Because this scent? I love it.
I wrap the coat around me, resisting the urge to inhale it like a creep.
“Could you just take me to the airport?” I ask, finally sounding more like myself and less like a half-frozen puppy.
His head tilts. “When are you going to say it? You never say it.”
I blink. “Say what?”
“Thank you. Say thank you.”
I roll the moment back in my head. Did I not say it? “Didn’t I?—?”
“No,” he says flatly. “You didn’t.”
He’s handsome. Annoyingly so. Especially when he’s staring at me like that. Ifeltthe thanks. I eventhoughtit. But… who demands gratitude?
Still. I need him.
“Thank you,” I say, curtly. “Could you take me to the airport now? I would really appreciate that and have a multitude of thankfulness in my heart for it. Really, I would.”
I’m being a jerk and I know it. But I can’t help myself. And I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he kicked me out of the car.
Instead, he turns his eyes forward and pulls off. The SUV moves so smoothly it’s like floating.
“We’ve got a meeting in L.A. early tomorrow. I planned to drive back tonight. I’ll take you with me.”
