The cold pebbled across her skin, everywhere he wasn’t touching. She missed his all consuming warmth from a moment ago. “Yes.”
Although she wasn’t sure she was. It had been months since she had been subjected to that kind of attention.
“Welcome to my life,” she mumbled, running her hands along her arms, trying to create some heat.
The familiar tang of shame bittered her throat, as it did whenever she found herself caught in a public uproar. Sure, this was small potatoes compared to what she’d gone through a few years ago, but she’d gotten used to living relatively drama-free in Portland.
“That’s not acceptable, Vanessa.” Jordan brushed her hands aside and rubbed her arms himself, warming her up so much quicker than she could do herself. “They took pictures of you.”
“Yeah.” Even though warmth flowed to her upper extremities, her legs began to shake.
“Without asking,” he bellowed with indignation.
Startled by the fire in his voice, she tilted her head toward his. For someone who, in her experience, usually communicated in grunts or one-word answers, this intensity was…unexpected. And oddly captivating. She hated how it made her heart stutter. “Um, yeah. People usually do.”
He tossed his hands in the air, his breath coming out in short, outraged puffs. “Aren’t there limits? Does Max not have contingency plans for this?”
She’d never seen him this worked up. But with their kissplastered across every social media platform by now, she figured he had a right to his anger.
“Look, it was dark in there. Phones take terrible pictures in that kind of lighting. I’m sure no one will even recognize you. You’re safe.”
“Me?” He appeared truly aghast. “I’m a fucking nobody. It’syou. It’s not right. Half the people in that club spent the evening getting shit-faced and making out with anyone and everyone. No one was taking pictures of them.”
It’s because they think they own me,she nearly said out loud. But that didn’t seem fair. She’d chosen this life and knew this was part of the deal. The greatest consequence of her fame was the illusion that she belonged to everybody, that she was public property.
It was all superficial. She’d learned that lesson long ago. Along with the hard truth that the friends you thought you had were quick to disappear when things got ugly. She could count on one hand the true friendships she’d made in this business, and still have fingers left over.
“They do it because I live my life out loud. Social media is basically my second job.” She brushed a nonexistent fluff from her arm, trying to warm herself without showing it. “They think they know me, like we’re old friends. So when I do something unexpected, they snap a pic like it’s a keepsake for their scrapbook. Except that scrapbook is the World Wide Web.”
Jordan continued to glower at her, and she wasn’t sure if he was confused, irritated, or plain mad. If she wasn’t freezing her ass off, she might have given more explanation of the whole being famous conundrum, but she was starting to shake so bad she almost bit her tongue.
“Fuck,” he muttered, before slipping off his black leather jacket and draping it over her shoulders.
The blast of warmth was immediate, as was the scent—leather mixed with a rugged spicy aroma she couldn’t quite place. The combination was intoxicating, and she snuggled against the soft fabric.
“It’s winter,” he informed her, as if she hadn’t known that. “You should wear extra layers next time.”
“I’ll have you know my clothing is a gift from an up-and-coming designer. I’m a walking advertisement.” Come to think of it, the photo blitz tonight would probably work to the designer’s benefit. This outfit would be all over the internet by morning.
“Princess, I can design clothes with more material than that.”
She snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”
He ignored her and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. “I’ll call you a cab.”
“Oh, I don’t do cabs.” She tightened his jacket around her neck. It really did smell good.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll call Anderson.”
“That’s Joel and Lucy’s driver when they’re in town.” He said this in the most monotone of monotones, one that matched his current facial expression.
“Yes,” she replied. “And they told me I can call him anytime I want.”
Jordan’s blistering glare could break weaker people. Of course he’d find a way to think the worst of her.
“Well, Mr. Judgy, not that I care what you think, but why wouldn’t I accept a service that’s been offered to me? Besides, cabs aren’t always reliable. And some are downright gross. You never know what’s on the seat.” She reached in her bag and retrieved her own phone, scrolling to Anderson’s contact and sending a quick message. “Trust me. Iheard a podcast about it once. Much more sanitary to use a private driver.”
