Chapter 171: Chapter Nine

Jaymeson

Spots of sunlight broke through the curtains, landing firmly on my right eye. I turned the other way, only to have that same sun burn a freaking hole in the back of my head.

Cursing, I threw off the covers and walked to the kitchen to make myself some coffee.

It seemed to take forever for the stupid machine to brew. Never a good sign when you actually sit in front of the coffee pot and watch it brew.

Finally, it beeped. I grabbed a giant mug and shuffled over to the large balcony that overlooked the beach.

Church.

The last time I was in church was when I did a commercial for fruit snacks. The entire thing had been filmed in an old Catholic church.

Great.

The crisp ocean air hit me full force as I stepped through the sliding doors and leaned against the railing.

I lifted the mug to my lips, closing my eyes as I took a long soothing sip. I groaned in ecstasy. Screw tea, I just needed coffee in my life. Only coffee.

I knew I should probably be getting ready for my day in Hell. Groaning, I turned to go back in the house, only to be stopped by the air actually leaving my lungs and refusing to go back in.

Breathe, idiot! Only I couldn't, because I was actually hallucinating, and I was awake, which meant my whole nervous breakdown theory? Totally freaking accurate.

Priscilla.

Next door? She was out on the balcony, and she looked like hell. Her face was smudged with something dark and her pajamas looked like they'd been playing with the fires of hell.

“Are you alright?” I blurted without thinking.

She screamed.

Then I screamed.

She tripped.

I dropped my coffee mug over the ledge, thankfully missing anyone who might be combing the beach for shells.

“Stop screaming!” I lifted my hands into the air in peace.

She nodded, and then her eyes narrowed. Aw, shit, I knew that look. Every woman has one. It's the look that says, “You. Evil. Bastard.”

“Jaymeson?” Her voice was low as if my name actually made her growl.

“Yes?” I said in a higher-pitched voice, hoping to even the playing field.

“What are you doing here?”

“I'm not stalking you.” I laughed lamely, only stopping when her eyebrows narrowed even more. Crap! I needed to get my shit together and fast.

She crossed her arms. Closing herself off completely.

“I uh…” I scratched my head and cleared my throat. “I'm here for a few months on… holiday.” Shoot me now. Shoot me now.

“Holiday?” she repeated.

“People take vacations from time to time. It's normal, for people, to uh… vacation.” Seriously, I should just jump now and get it over with.

“Vacation.” Her teeth ground together as her jaw flexed.

“Yeah.” I bit my lip and nodded as I slowly approached the railing closest to her, we were separated by two feet, maybe three.

“Here?”

“My thoughts exactly,” I grumbled.

That brought a smile to her face. “Well, welcome back.” She gave a curt nod and started to walk back toward the door.

“Pris—” I yelled. “Are you okay?”

She turned, her eyebrows drew together as she pressed her lips together. “What do you mean?”

I nodded. “Your clothes, and face, you just, you look like you had a rough night, I just wanted to make sure I didn't need to kick anyone's ass.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you need an ass to kick just look in the mirror, Jaymeson. Make it easy on yourself.”

Ouch.

The sliding glass door clicked shut.

And I was left without my hot coffee and without my balls. Because clearly she still held them in a vise-like grip that made me want to both bow down and run screaming at the same time.

Cursing, I stomped back into the house and grabbed my phone, pulling up our instant messaging.

Me

Morning beautiful. How'd you sleep?

Priscilla S

Good.

Me

Just good?

Priscilla S

Until the fire.

Me

WTF!

I swear my heart started pounding so hard I thought I was going to have a heart attack; I started pacing waiting for her reply.

Priscilla S

It was fine. I mean, I'm fine.

It seemed like she was trying to convince herself that she was fine, even when she wasn't. I knew that trick. I used it all the time.

Me

What can I do to help?

Priscilla S

Show me how to use my coffee maker? I'm at a friend's house until I can go back to mine and everything is way too high tech.

Me

Wish I could help but I'm in LA ☹

Priscilla S

Wish me luck!

Me

Good luck.

I threw the phone onto the couch and stared at it. I was doing a lot of that lately. Staring at things, as if they would suddenly start talking back to me and give me advice on my crappy life.

She needed help.

I could reign in the lust.

And this didn't mean I was proposing. I laughed aloud. I was just helping, and if I just so happened to see her smile or maybe get caught staring at her ass? Bonus.

I knocked twice.

She answered, in the same smoke-stained PJs.

“Jaymeson, I have a really busy day and—”

I side-stepped her and walked into the condo. I'd gone with Demetri and Lyss when they'd picked out furniture and everything else in the place.

I made it a few steps into the house and turned. “You coming or not?”

“Huh?” She slammed the door. “You can't just waltz into people's houses and—”

“I didn't.” I grinned. “Besides, it's not your house. Now do you want help or not?”

“Help?”

“Stop repeating what I say before I lose my damn mind. I'm English, not Russian. I barely have an accent. Do I really need to talk slower?”

She shook her head as blush stained her cheeks. Damn it. Curses, curses, lots and lots of curses. I loved that blush, I loved it way more than I loved coffee and that was saying a lot.

Clearing my throat, I looked away. “Follow me.”

I walked into the master bedroom like a man on a mission. The bed didn't even look slept in. Did she sleep on the couch or the spare bedroom? Why wouldn't she sleep in the nice room?

I heaved the clothes onto the bed and crossed my arms. “Problem solved.”

Priscilla nibbled her bottom lip. “I can't wear her clothes, it wouldn't be right and—”

I rolled my eyes. “AD2 brought in over twenty million on endorsements alone last year. Believe me when I say Alyssa can afford to loan you some clothes.”

Priscilla's eyes widened.

I was being rude, curt, direct. Normally I was smooth but being smooth with this girl? Yeah, it meant me not keeping my pants on.

With slow movements, Priscilla reached for the clothes and felt them between her fingers as if she'd never felt clothes before in her entire life.

“They don't feel like mine,” she whispered.

I rolled my eyes. “I know they don't feel like yours but you have to wear something. You can't walk around in your smoke-damaged PJs.”

“No.” She laughed softly. “I didn't mean that. I just meant they're softer than mine, you can tell they're expensive.”

I didn't know what to say to that. I really had no words, because I'd never actually been in a position where I was wearing any type of clothing that wasn't expensive.

She stared at the clothes like they were precious.

Nobody had ever stared at me like that — nobody but her. And I'd broken her heart. Clearing my throat, I scratched my head and started backing out of the room.

“What?” She whirled around so fast I thought she was going to pull a muscle. “What do you mean breakfast?”

“Glad you asked.” I smirked. “Breakfast is a derivative of the idea to break one's fast — considering all night you fast and then—”

“Still an ass, aren't you?”

“You said ass.” I chuckled.

“Make me breakfast.”

“Oh, so now she wants breakfast,” I teased.

“Better than an etymology lesson,” she said sweetly.

“Touché.” My smile hurt it was so big. “I'll just be in the kitchen… breakfasting.”

“And a verb, nice,” she called back as I danced into the kitchen. It took me an entire five minutes to settle down and another five to remind myself who I was and why I was there.

She's not for you, my brain reminded me.

And my heart, once again, went on lockdown.