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Save Riley(7)

By:Yolanda Olson


“Apologize, Ms. Riley,” Jax whispered softly into my ear. “Tell him you’re sorry for wasting his time.”

“Sorry for wasting your time,” I managed to gasp out.

Jax backed away from me and took my bag. The look he gave me reeked of satisfaction as he nodded toward the door and I followed him out into the parking lot.

We reached a dark red Mercedes SUV and he pushed a button on the remote he was holding. The hatchback slowly opened and I raised an eyebrow.

“A Mercedes? Isn’t this kind of expensive?” I asked him.

“I was going to get a smaller car, non-luxury, until I noticed your display. Of course, that upped the ante, Ms. Riley,” he said as he took my bag and put it in the back.

“This isn’t a game, Jaxton. We’re here because of a funeral; my grandmother’s funeral, might I add,” I retorted.

He smiled and lifted his bag into the back of the SUV, before he walked around to the driver’s side door. I heard him open it and watched him climb in before closing it again.

“Besides,” I continued once I was in the passenger’s seat, “you’re the one that practically accosted that girl at the counter. I didn’t see you apologizing to her for that.”

“How did it make you feel to see that, Ms. Riley?” he asked, adjusting the mirrors.

I stared at him. The urge to slap him across the face for playing this stupid game was so strong in me, but I figured that he might like it for some reason, so I didn’t. Instead, I just pulled my seat belt on and looked out the tinted window.

Jax set the keys on the console and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, “I asked you a question, Ms. Riley.”

“I’m not deaf, Jax. And please cut out the ‘Ms. Riley’ stuff,” I replied with a heavy sigh.

“I rather like it,” he said with smile. “Your blatant disobedience. This can prove to be quite fun. Would you like to know what I want from you now, Ms. Riley? In exchange for all of this?”

“You already told me. That you come with me, which you have, and that I spend time with you when we get back,” I replied curiously.

He finally turned his eyes toward me but the smile had left his lips. In fact, Jax looked so serious that my hands instinctively went to the door handle. I was ready to jump out and run if need be.

“Yes. But there’s something you need to sign in order to spend time with me. I have it with me; you can choose to view it when we get to the hotel or you can wait until we get back,” he said.

“Hotel?” I asked in confusion. “I thought we were going to stay at my parent’s house.”

“I told you that your family would never know I was here didn’t I Ms. Riley? I won’t attend the services and I won’t go near your family’s home. That was part of the deal,” he replied.

I opened my mouth and closed it. I couldn’t argue with him there, but I also wasn’t going to stay with him in the hotel. I planned on staying at my parent’s home and that’s what I intended on doing.

“Would you at least drop me off at their house?” I asked him.

“No, Ms. Riley. I couldn’t risk having them see me. They’d ask too many questions,” he said quietly. “I will, however, pay for your cab fare to and from the hotel.”

I knew it. He thinks I’m staying with him. Fuck that.

“Jax, I’m staying with my mother and father while I’m here,” I replied evenly.

“You misunderstood,” he said with a chuckle. “What I meant was that I will pay for you to get to your parents’ house after I check in and when it’s all over, I’ll pay for you to come back to the hotel the night before we leave.”

I glanced at the keys on the console and back at Jax, “When do you plan on starting this thing anyway? I mean, we can have this chat on the way to your hotel, can’t we?”

“Yes, Ms. Riley. We can.”

He grabbed the keys and slid the larger one into the ignition, bringing the engine to life. I made myself comfortable in my seat as he strapped the seat belt against his broad chest. For the trip he had worn a casual black shirt with the sleeves rolled just above the elbow. He wore dark red True Religion denim jeans and expensive looking black deck shoes with no socks.

Jax stretched his arm out and put a hand behind the headrest of my seat and I watched his arm flex as he put the truck in reverse. It took everything in my power not to reach out and run my hand down his arm.

“It’s the accent, isn’t it?” I asked, fighting my urges and turning on the air conditioner. I was suddenly sweating and I didn’t want him to notice.