Hot Damn(18)

Shaking my head, I start toward the truck. He opens the door for me then offers his hand to help me step up into the cab. It’s a nice gesture, especially since the cab is pretty high and I actually need the boost.

“So where are we going?” I ask as he starts the truck up again.

“Just a local hangout.” He swings the truck out into the street, and I notice the size of his hands on the wheel. They’re so big—I’ve noticed this before, of course, but it’s really hitting me right now for some reason. Big palms, long fingers, calluses, scabs on a couple of knuckles. It’s…manly. Hot as hell. I remember those hands on me, even though they were gloved at the time, and my body goes crazy for a second.

I clear my throat, trying to get my brain and my libido back under control. “Why did you decide it was important for me to come? Is it a party or something?”

“Nope. We get together a couple times a month just to hang out.” He slides me a glance, then his attention goes back to the road. “Ever since Lacey passed, the guys have been trying to fix me up. To get my mind off my troubles. I haven’t been able to follow through on any dates because of the cat, and I honestly haven’t been that interested, anyway.”

I find that hard to believe. He seems like the kind of guy who’d be interested in about any woman he could get his hands on. “I see.”

“My coworkers have horrible taste in women.” He chuckles. “Anyway. I thought it’d be nice to get them off my back. Show them I’ve got some suitable female companionship and they can stop trying to hook me up with so-and-so’s cousin, or what’s-his-name’s sister or whatever.”

“No interest at all?”

“Not really. Some of them are cute enough. I just don’t feel like getting serious with anybody right now, and a one-night stand isn’t going to make me feel any better about Lacey, you know?”

He gives me another sidelong glance, this one more furtive, and I get the sense he’s being sincere, here.

“I can understand that.” I’m pleased that our deal isn’t as one way as I thought it was going to be. He actually will get some benefit from our fake romance aside from me cleaning his house and training his cat.

He pulls up in front of a sketchy-looking bar that is apparently our destination. He must catch me giving it the stink-eye, because he says, “It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise. Their burgers are actually really damn good.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

I start to get out of the truck on my own, but he comes around to help me down before I quite get myself situated for the jump. When my feet hit the pavement, he doesn’t let go, instead tucking my hand into his elbow and pulling me close. My breath quickens, and I can suddenly feel my heartbeat pattering at the base of my throat. Goose bumps ripple up and down my spine. For a second I can almost believe this is real. That he actually wants to be with me.

Jesse stops walking and looks down at me, not letting go of my hand. “You’re nervous?”

“A little,” I admit, though I’m not sure why I am. “I haven’t been out with a guy in a really long time. Not even on a fake date.”

He bends a little closer. “I can just kiss you now and get it over with. Will that help?”

I should have known he’d say something like that. “No, that’s fine. Let’s just go inside.”

The place looks a bit less sketchy inside—long, wooden tables, brightly polished stainless steel on the bar. There’s a group of young men in a corner, and they wave at Jesse as we come in. I recognize a couple of them from the fire, and suddenly realize they’ve seen me in nothing but a towel. Great.

I get a couple of smiles as we approach the table, but nothing inappropriate, which is a relief. Except for one guy, who looks a little older than most of the others. The look he gives me isn’t lewd, but it’s not pleasant. Or maybe he’s looking at Jesse. It’s hard to be sure. I decide he’s just one of those people who hates everything, and let it go.

“Chief King!” One of the guys comes to his feet and shakes Jesse’s hand heartily. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Madison,” Jesse says. “Maddy, this is Whitaker.”

“Joseph,” he corrects, and Jesse looks at him in astonishment.

“Dude! You have a first name? I had no idea.”

Whitaker just slaps him on the shoulder and laughs. It’s genuine—he doesn’t seem insulted or annoyed at all. It occurs to me that the smart-assedness Jesse displays might just be the way he is, rather than something he does specifically to piss me off.

He introduces me to all the rest of the guys around the table, though I know there’s no way I’ll remember all their names. I’ll remember Whitaker, because he was first. And I’ll remember Curry, because he’s the one who’s looking at me with a healthy dose of disdain. I try not to take it personally, since he’s giving the same look to Jesse. Obviously there’s something going on there. I wonder if Jesse realizes this guy seriously hates him.

Finally we settle into some chairs at the table and order drinks and a couple of appetizers to add to the collection already making the rounds of the table. Whitaker’s sitting next to us, which is okay with me. He seems nice. Like the rest of the guys at the table, he’s young and good-looking, which is intimidating, but he also has an air about him that reminds me of a lost puppy.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Whitaker says. “You haven’t said anything.”

Jesse shrugs it off. “We haven’t been going out that long. I just figured it was time to introduce her to all you losers. If she sticks around after this…” He lets the sentence trail off while he gives me a meaningful look. Like he’ll be heartbroken if meeting his coworkers makes me dump his sorry ass.

I move a little closer. “Oh, honey, don’t worry. I’m tougher than that.”

He grins and puts his arm around me. “I knew it. See?” he adds to Whitaker, as well as a couple other guys who are paying attention to the conversation. “I knew she was a keeper.”

“So how did you guys meet?” This is one of the other men, who looks like he stepped into the bar right after a GQ photo shoot. I’m starting to wonder why any of them would believe Jesse and I are a couple. He’s big and gorgeous, and I’m…me.

“Funny story,” Jesse says with a glint in his eye, and I suddenly realize he’s going to tell the truth. Probably a good idea, since there are at least a couple of guys here who saw me that night. “Remember that apartment fire? The one where the older couple left the heating pad on?”

There are nods around the table.

“I rescued her ass from that fire.”

“You did not,” I respond automatically. “My apartment wasn’t even smoky. I would have been fine.”

“Yeah, but if I hadn’t taken my job seriously, I wouldn’t have gotten to carry you naked out of your shower, now, would I?”

There are some snickers, quickly quelled. It’s nice to know these guys have at least some sense of decorum.

“Oh! Oh!” Whitaker says suddenly, pointing at me. “I remember seeing you.” Then he backs down, looking sheepish. He might even be blushing, but it’s hard to tell with his dark skin. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him. With somebody else, it might have been embarrassing, but with him it’s just amusing. “What’s not okay is he busted my door down.”

The strange guy—Curry—has relaxed a little and seems less angry at the entire world. Probably a good thing. If he keeps that up 24/7, he’ll probably have a stroke. “That’s procedure,” he says.

I meet his gaze, feeling a little guilty for possibly misjudging him when I first walked in. Maybe he’s not a bad guy. “Is the rest of it procedure? The part where you get dragged out of your apartment wrapped in a shower curtain?”

Curry joins the round of chuckling, and Jesse squeezes me with the arm he has draped over my shoulder. “Honey, don’t be that way. I let you get a towel.”

“Yes, you did let me get a towel.” I lean a little closer to him, making it all look real. Still, I can’t help but think that the other guys are going to see through this any minute. If they do, what happens? Is the deal off?

“How chivalrous of you,” says Curry, and turns his attention to one of the other guys.

The conversation drifts to other subjects for a while. Even though they’re talking about work things, the guys—especially Whitaker—make an effort to include me, explaining things here and there and even asking my opinion. Jesse keeps touching me, his arm around me a good bit of the time, or brushing the back of my hand, occasionally playing with my hair where it falls low behind my shoulders. It’s a good feeling.

I could get used to this. I know it isn’t real, but it’s easy to forget that. I haven’t been touched affectionately, casually, like this in a very long time. I’m not sure even Troy ever treated me quite this way. Like he actually wanted to be with me.