“Two pints please. One brownie batter and one vanilla bean.”
I scowl at Jackson as I shift my helmet, which I’ve been carrying under my left arm, and place it on the counter next to him. One of the employees moves to begin packing a container while the other rings him up.
“A quart is only two dollars more.” I challenge him. I don’t really care about getting more ice cream. He already bought me three bags of chocolate pretzels for the movie. One for each hour. I just enjoy annoying him.
He hands his card over to the employee while looking me dead in the eye. “You’ll survive.”
Killjoy.
My phone goes off, and I pull it out to see a reminder from Sydney that my stream starts in a little over an hour. We’re only twenty minutes from home. Less for me technically since I rode here on my bike and can weave through the traffic. It leaves us plenty of time.
Jackson grabs the bag with the two pints of ice cream from the second employee, and we file out of the store toward the parking lot. We’re only twenty feet away from where Jackson parked when I see a white Mercedes Benz back out of its spot, right into the rear of Jackson’s army green Wrangler.
I stop and stare slack-jawed at the cars. Jackson, on the other hand, starts running, ice cream bag swinging in his hand. The driver hasn’t exited the vehicle. They haven’t driven off either.
I jog to catch up with Jackson, who is busy inspecting the back of his car. The Mercedes drives forward a few feet before the engine cuts off. The door opens, and when I see the woman step out, I almost drop my helmet.
Well, hello.
The evening sun casts the woman before me in an amber glow. The same woman who has been invading my thoughts for the last week. Stevie is wearing a short, flowy white dress with heels; her hair hangs in loose waves down her back. The innocent angel look is so at odds with the woman in the tight black dress who fisted my cock around hundreds of people.
Her expression is one of pure anxiety, caramel eyes spilling over with guilt.
“I am so sorry!”
Jackson looks back at her, and I see him do a double take before he folds his arms over his chest. The entire display makes him look like a giant, grumpy bear, and I see more fear leak into Stevie’s eyes. I weave behind Jackson to look at how much damage she could’ve caused.
Huh. Jackson’s Wrangler is perfectly fine. The Mercedes has a nasty dent in its trunk, though. It looks like she hit the tire on the back of the Jeep straight on. I spin back to Jackson and raise my brow at him.
“I’ll pay for any damages. I really didn’t mean to. I was just so distracted by some bad news, and I…” she trails off, bringing her hand up to her forehead. “Here let me grab my license.”
“It’s fine. You didn’t even damage it.”
Stevie isn’t listening to Jackson, though. She starts rummaging through her designer handbag, brows pinched. The entire thing drops out of her hands and spills onto the asphalt. She just stares at it, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
“How does this day just keep getting worse?”
My heart cracks at her small voice. I bend down, resting my helmet next to me while I collect the spilled items. How the hell does she have this much stuff in such a small bag?
Stevie crouches down next to me.
“Thank you.”
When her eyes meet mine, I see a split second of arousal seep in as she gives me a once over, her lips parting ever so slightly. But she is quick to school her features. We both reach for her sunglasses at the same time, and my hand brushes over hers. She stills before pulling her hand back.
“I’m Aleksander. The grump over there is Jackson.”
I hand her the sunglasses, and she gives me a small smile.
“I’m Stevie.”
“Well, Stevie. You really don’t have to worry about damage except to your own car. His is fine.”
“Seriously?” She looks at me with a wary expression before she picks up her handbag, stands, and moves to inspect the cars. She lets out a small groan when she sees her crushed trunk.
“At least it’s still drivable,” Jackson offers.
Stevie laughs, and a strange feeling of relief fills my veins.
“I suppose you’re right. Are you sure you don’t need me to give you my insurance or anything?”
Jackson shakes his head, “No, you’re all good on my end.”
She bites her lip, and fuck, it makes her look sexy.
“Alright, well, I’m going to head off then. Sorry, again, Jackson.”
She turns and gives me a small wave of her hand before disappearing into her vehicle and driving off. My hands clench around my helmet. Fuck. I really wanted to ask for her number. But, why? It’s not like I can date her. Not with my lifestyle. None of us can have girlfriends, not without risking our identities.
“Pretty sure this ice cream has melted.” Jackson lifts the plastic bag.
I shrug. “Probably, but nothing the freezer can’t fix.”
“That was the girl, though, wasn’t it?”
Ah. I was wondering if he would bring that up.
“What girl?”
“Dude.” He levels me with his “I’m so sick of your shit” look.
“Yeah, yeah. It was.”
“That’s so weird.” He crinkles his brows. “The girl who backed into my car fisted you under a table at an award ceremony.”
“I mean, that sounds pretty hot to me.”
Jackson just rolls his eyes as he opens the passenger door and throws the ice cream onto the seat.
“It’s not like she recognized us.”
“I would have given her a prize if she had been able to.” He snorts.
“Maybe if she’d seen my dick.” I give him a wink.
“Sometimes you’re just as bad as Parker.” He rounds the car and gets into the driver’s side. “I’ll see you at home.” Jackson shuts the door and starts the engine. I give him a salute before making the trek over to my bike on the other side of the lot.
My phone pings with a thirty-minute reminder for my stream. Damnit. I shove my helmet on and quickly start up my bike. I tear out of the parking lot and onto the highway at breakneck speed.
The cooling night air flies around me as I weave my way between the growing traffic. All the while I try to forget about the brown-haired beauty who is taking up residence in my mind.
ELEVEN
* * *
STEVIE
“What if I pour this entire bottle of wine into a bowl and drown myself in it.”
“While death by wine sounds like a classy way to go, I’m going to advise against it.”
I pout at Deanna’s face on the screen before propping my phone against the unopened bottle of red wine and resting my forehead on the cool counter. I take a deep breath before letting out an extremely unattractive groan of frustration.
It was a shit day.
A really, really shit day.