“She’s going out with a friend today. How about you? Any plans?”
“You grounded me, so no, I’m stuck here.”
“You could have someone over.”
“Good idea. I’ll see if Shayla is free.”
“Rumor, we talked about this. I don’t want you being friends with that girl. You’ll only make things more difficult for yourself.Punching a girl was bad enough. You don’t need to damage your reputation even more.”
“I didn’t damage it. People admire me for hitting her. Everyone wanted to and I finally did it.”
“It’s not going to happen again. Understand?”
“Yes, Uncle Brock,” I say in a smart-ass tone. “I’ll behave.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow. Tell the boys to call me when you see them. They’re not answering my messages.”
“I will. Bye.” I put my phone back on the nightstand and sink into the soft sheets, pulling the fluffy down comforter over me.
“What’d he say?” Jackson comes out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist.
“He’s staying in LA. Coming back tomorrow.” I sit up. “I almost forgot. I need a ride to an ATM. I had to bribe Morgan’s bratty daughter to convince her mom to get Brock to LA last night. Cost me five hundred dollars, which I didn’t have so I took it from Brock’s desk. I have to put it back before he finds out.”
Jackson walks to his dresser and opens the top drawer. He comes over to me holding a stack of cash. “Take what you need and put the rest back.”
It’s a stack of hundred-dollar bills.
“I don’t need this. Just take me to an ATM.”
“I would, but I was thinking we shouldn’t be seen around town together, especially during football season.”
“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“Just take the money and put it back in Brock’s desk before you forget.”
I count out the bills, then get up and put the rest of the money back in his dresser.
“You have time for a shower?” I hear Jackson say as he comes up behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist.
“Just a shower?” I say, sounding disappointed.
“Come with me and find out.”
I turn and kiss him, running my hands over his muscular chest, already feeling the heat building inside me.
The doorbell rings, startling us both.
“Who the hell is at my door this early?”
“Kristen,” I say with a sigh.
“She wouldn’t ring the bell. She’d just let herself in, even though I keep telling her not to.”
The doorbell rings again.
“Maybe it’s a delivery guy,” I say.
“Not this early.” Jackson lets me go and walks over to his nightstand and picks up his phone.
