Chapter 16
Jaxson
I’m jealous.
There. I saidit.
Icy Hot Princess had a date last night with some dude next door and I’mjealous.
It was all she talked about on the drive home from HC Headquarters. That and the factLa Boutiqueoffered her the publishing deal she so badly wants. I’m happy for her. About the publishing deal. Not the date. Just to beclear.
After I dropped her and Truffles off atChateau De Grenelle, I drove straight home, showered, and helped Nana and Gramps pack. Then, the three of us enjoyed a bowl of Nana’s famous onion soup. The two of them got on my case, adamantly suggesting I come clean with Lauren about who I reallyam.
“Jaxson Malonewill catch up with you eventually. Run from all of the Dixie Lane drama, yes. But you can’t run away fromyou,” Gramps said as we all ate outside on theterrace.
Then Nana couldn’t resist chiming in, as well, when she said, “Besides, what is so bad about Jaxson Malone, anyway? The fact that the fame-seeking mutt turned down your proposal?Sheis the one who needs to hide, Grandson. Not you. America loves you, has sympathy for you. And so do your fans here in France. Believe me, there are many who have streamed that show, many who probably have issues of that magazineAlpine—”
“Alpha Male,” I corrected, thenchuckled.
She giggled. “Yes, that one. Anyway, what do you think Lauren will do if you tell her who you are? Hire another driver? Why would she? Perhaps knowing you have a celeb background may make her feel comfortable with you—closing the gap with having something in common. And if she remembers bumping into you at the airport, then what’s wrong withthat?”
I thought long and hard about their advice, then decided they’re right. Why hide who I am from Lauren? Explain that I came to escape the media, the show, and that I just want to chill for a bit, help out with the business. She may have a sassy bite to her, but I don’t see Lauren as the type toridicule.
So, I plan to tell her today. Either on the way to HC Headquarters or on the way back thisevening.
The double doors fly open. It’s Lauren making her way to the carnow.
Glowing. Beautiful. Dressed in tight jeans and thigh-highboots.
If she weren’t a fashion designer, she could certainly pass for amodel.
Her long ponytail rocks back and forth with her everystep.
It’s hard to look away; like the Mona Lisa, Lauren is that something new each time you seeher.
I hop out, open the door for her and say, “Good morning,” as she brushes past me. “Where isTruffles?”
She smiles, her teeth the color of pearls. “Oh, Truffles decided to sleep in, so Jules will entertain himtoday.”
Icy Hot Princess slides into the seat, I shut the door, and a whiff of her perfume dances around mynose.
Damn, she smells so good. Apples and Violets. Her signaturescent.
On the road, she busies herself with her phone, scrolling, scrolling scrolling. And I gotta ask her what I’ve been wondering most of last night and all of thismorning.
“How was yourdate?”
She smirks, still looking down at her phone. “It was lovely. I think I may have found the man of my dreams,Jack.”
Great. That’s not quite the answer I wanted tohear.
“Sweet. So yesterday was a victory day, with the news of the magazine, and of course it seems you may have found Mister Right.” I hope she doesn’t detect the sarcasm dripping fromme.
I wannabarf.
“Yep,” she says, now looking up, a pensive glow in her eyes. “What happened to your girlfriend, Jack? When I asked you if had one, you said, notanymore.”
“She broke my heart. It’s part of the reason I’m here in Paris. To forget.” I admit, withouthesitation.
