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“Yeah,” he said with a shrug, gesturing for me to head toward the staircase. “I’m tired, and you saw earlier I was about to leave. I’m ready to go home.”
“That’s surprising,” I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re the one who stays out and parties until lunchtime the next day, right?”
He grimaced. “That might be a little much.”
Laughing, I took the stairs to the bottom level, noting there weren’t many people left. Jackson was on his phone as we walked, and I stayed focused on not tripping over my own feet from how freaking tired I was.
“The car is right outside,” Jackson said, looking up from his phone just in time to open the door for me. “I think he might have been napping or something. Took like twenty texts to get him here.”
“Rough life. I just use Uber,” I snort, making my way to the black Tahoe parked alongside the curb.
“Yeah, Uber isn’t always safe,” Jackson commented, opening the passenger door for me. The night was silent, and there were no paparazzi in sight—or really anyone for that matter.
“Uber is safer than walking home or driving drunk,” I said to him as I climbed inside, sliding across the leather seat to the far side.
“Well, yeah, but I never even think about doing shit like that,” Jackson chuckled, slamming the door shut.
The driver eyed both of us in the rearview mirror. “Where to?”
Jackson popped off my address like he’d said it a million times, and then turned to me. “Is that where you wanna go? Or is there somewhere else since you and Maeve are in a fight?”
I blinked a couple times, yet again taken aback by this…friendly behavior—and the way it was working for him. “Home is fine. I’m sure she’s asleep right now.”
“Or back with Tyson.”
“Touché,” I grunted, clicking my seat belt in place and leaning against the door panel. “I’m just so ready to go to bed now.”
Jackson laughed. “Not the night owl you used to be. I can’t actually imagine you being that kind of fun.”
Ah, asshole Jackson has returned.
I shrugged, turning my head to meet the green eyes that were fixed on me. “Well, I was never at your level of fun, but I did used to get out a lot more than I do now. Now, I just have priorities…and a job. Plus, I don’t like being hungover.”
“Sounds like a fuddy dud to me.”
“Did you seriously just say fuddy dud?” I burst into laughter, running my hands over my face. “I can’t with you.”
He smiled, and it was probably one of the most genuine ones I had ever seen grace the rock star’s face. “Yeah, I know.” Jackson leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. I admired him there, his muscular arms, jagged jaw, and the relaxed expression on his face... He was handsome.
And maybe the little bit of alcohol had me feeling a little daring.
“Here.” The driver’s voice cut into my thoughts.
I snapped out of it. “Thanks for the ride.” My fingers grabbed ahold of the handle and pushed open the door, the cool morning air tickling my skin.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Jackson said, jumping out before I could protest.
What the hell?
I met him around the front of the SUV, unable to hide my surprise. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?” he retorted, his heated gaze sending a shiver down my spine. I tried to shake off the excitement mixed with nerves filtering into my chest, but it didn’t work…and the closer we got to the door, the more I was starting to feel a warm sensation in my core.
Jackson stepped up onto the porch behind me and didn’t stop until he leaned against the doorframe. “So…this is your house.”
I giggled at how awkward he sounded. “Yeah, it’s my house. How many times have you walked a woman to the door? Because your conversation is awful.”
“Never,” he answered.
