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He carefully explains the scholarship conditions to me, how my dad and I can be involved in choosing the recipients if we want. He’s so serious about all the details, and a lump lodges in my throat.
I swallow past the tightness and focus on his words. Jonah is going to provide two internships in a newly formed media division at Kings Lane Capital. And a personal mentorship on how to run a successful business. My eyes heat with tears. Wonderful man.
His eyes flare as he takes me in. “Don’t cry, Callie. Please. I wanted to show you how much I value you.” He brushes a thumb over my cheek, wiping away the tears spilling. “I was wrong. The work you do is important. If you ever want to come lead the media division for us, the job will be open for you. And you can run a gossip column to rival Page Six out of our office as well.”
“I can’t believe this.” My voice comes out choked.
“I told you, sweetheart. Anything you want. Take me back, or don’t. I’ll never stop.” He says the words like he’s at peace with me never taking him back, but his eyes are burning. That intensity, that Jonah fire, it’s back in his gaze.
“Thank you,” I say shakily. I get up to wait on customers, but my thoughts and my gaze keep straying toward Jonah. I’m not sure how much longer I can resist him.
* * *
There’s a motorcycle outside my house the next morning and a man leaning against it, clad in black jeans and black leather. There’s a helmet on the seat and one tucked under his arm. Jonah. I barely recognized him in his bad boy outfit, but it’s him.
“What are you doing here?” I shout from the front door, even though Mrs. Delano on the first floor is totally going to tell my dad I was “causing a ruckus.”
“I know you’re off today,” he yells back. “I asked your boss. Come with me.”
“You’re very annoying,” I shout back, but my heart does a little pirouette at how handsome he is, at how ruthless and single-minded.
“Come yell at me down here, Thompson.”
I’m already halfway down the stairs as he speaks the words. “Nice outfit. Is the leather jacket bespoke?”
“You know me well,” he says with a blinding smile. “Will you be warm enough in that?” He glances at my wool coat.
“Warm enough for what?” I can’t help but tease him a little.
“You’re coming with. I’m kidnapping you.” He says it like it’s a foregone conclusion.
“Jonah—”
“Please.” He raises pleading eyes to mine. “Please come with me. I brought the bike back to the city yesterday, and I just need to share it with someone. I’ll take you right back after.”
Did I ever wonder what Jonah looked like with his layers peeled back? This is it. The raw honesty, the soft center of him, the parts only I have seen. They’re special.
“I don’t think I can ride a motorcycle in a wool coat.”
“Take mine.”
I make a sound of protest, but he’s already shrugging out of it. He tucks my coat in the case at the back of the bike.
“You won’t be cold?” I zip the leather up to my chin and inhale lungfuls of his scent.
“I’ll be fine. Helmet?” He passes it to me and helps me settle it on my head. “This okay?” he murmurs as his fingers brush my jaw. I nod as warmth spreads from where he’s touching me. I miss his hands on me. I miss his arms pulling me close. My heart is in my throat as he checks the visor and makes sure the helmet is settled before putting on his own.
He steadies the bike for me as we get on, and then I’m pressed to him, with my front to his back, and my arms around his waist.
“Hold on.”
With a roar, we’re off. Riding in the suburbs was one thing, but riding in the city? It’s completely different. Jonah weaves through delivery trucks and cabs, making a few irate drivers honk at us. He opens up the engine when we reach the West Side Highway, and my stomach presses itself against my spine. He’s solid and warm beneath me, and for a few minutes I pretend that nothing went wrong, that he’s mine and I’m his and we don’t ever have to go back to the real world.
We ride all the way to Riverdale, where Jonah finally stops the bike at a park, and helps me off. My legs are numb and shaky from the ride, and I stumble into his body. “Careful, Cal,” he says as he steadies me. The ache in my chest grows at how protective he is, how caring.
“What made you bring the bike back?” I ask, as we swap coats.
“I miss it.” He shrugs, but I can see how uncertain he is, like maybe it’s wrong for him to enjoy this. “It was nice, that day with you. Image isn’t everything. I forget that sometimes.” His mouth twists and my heart lurches at the reminder of how image has ruined everything for us. “I looked into some boxing gyms too.”
