“Oh my—” she huffed. “Seriously? You think now is the time to get laid? How long before she sells you out to the tabloids? I can see the headlines now. McCall ‘grieves’ with skanky one-night stand.”
“First of all, she’s not skanky and she’s not a simple lay. Her name is Bristol Reese. She bakes for a living. And she’s really damn sweet. Second, she has no idea who I am.”
“Get real.” Candia was jaded on a good day, and this wasn’t a good one at all.
“I’m totally serious. She was in the middle of a weird family situation and I helped her out. She didn’t recognize me. No one did. Look.” He took a quick selfie of his shorn hair and clean face, bare of all leather and jewelry. Then he sent it her way. Jesse studied the image. He looked like a normal Joe.
A few moments later, he heard a ding. “Wow, that’s you? Holy shit, you clean up nice. Okay, I have to admit, I barely recognize you. Your face looks leaner, more chiseled with your hair buzzed. We should talk to Jackie about making this look permanent. It’s a surprisingly cool change.”
Jesse didn’t want to talk about his stylist now. “It’s sure a shitload easier. So anyway, I’m in this small town in Arkansas. Lewisville. Barely a thousand people live here. I’m more likely to be given a sideways glance for being a newcomer than for being an international star. Relax.”
She paused. “You know, maybe it’s not a terrible idea for you to hang low there for a few days. I mean, if this girl has no idea who you are and you really won’t see other people, that little pissant town may be the perfect place to hide.”
Candia’s proclamation made Jesse smile. He didn’t have to give up Bristol yet. Reality would intrude soon enough, but he could enjoy her company a bit longer. He wished he could confide in her, tell her about his problems and his grief. She would listen well and give good advice, he’d bet.
“Admit it. I did the right thing,” he ribbed Candia.
“In theory. It’s early days. Just keep your new bug all snug in your love nest so she can’t squeal. We’ll talk soon.”
Before he could even say good-bye, she hung up. With a shrug, Jesse pocketed his phone. In their world, time was money, and he didn’t pay her to shoot the shit. He’d rather have her figuring out how to assure the public that he hadn’t played any part in the girl’s death and that he was sorry as hell that she was gone.
Jesse made his way back to the upstairs apartment. Not a noise disturbed the space. Shakespurr prowled closer, staring him down before he gave a disdainful meow and trotted off. But he didn’t hear a sound out of Bristol.
When he crept down the hall, he found the bathroom door open, steam still clouding the mirror over the basin. A few steps more, and he stood in the door to her bedroom. She lay across the bed, dressed in a faded gray T-shirt about five sizes too big with some terrycloth turban thing wrapped around her hair. And she was fast asleep.
A fond smile crawled across his face. After her shitty evening with her family, he’d kept her awake more often than not before she’d had to slip out to work. She’d still put in almost a twelve-hour day and confronted her ex head-on. His girl had smarts, stamina, and spine.
Well, she wasn’t his, like, forever. But his for another day.
He’d love to wake Bristol and prove exactly how much he appreciated her, in every way he could show her. But right now, she needed sleep. If he intended to spend half the night inside her again—and he did—she’d need it. Along with some food. Then he’d have to figure out how to persuade her to let him stay for a while. He’d slip away for Ryan’s service and try to avoid the press. The rest of the time, he’d spend with Bristol. That made him smile. And bonus, he would be around to fend off Hayden the half-wit. Win-win.
After pressing a light kiss to her forehead, Jesse headed downstairs again to the restaurant’s kitchen. Hands on hips, he surveyed the room. It looked as if a bomb had gone off. He sighed. He was no expert with this stuff, but it couldn’t be impossible to clean. It would also save poor exhausted Bristol a whole lot of effort and allow her to spend the rest of the evening with him.
As he filled the sink with soapy water and dumped all the dirty utensils inside, the events of the past few days rolled through his head. Oddly, despite the fact that his career was in turmoil, his life upside down, and his surroundings unfamiliar, he felt completely centered. Thoughts of Bristol circled, dive-bombed. She was the reason for his Zen attitude. She amazed him. She inspired him.
A melody shot across his brain. It kind of reminded him of her—pretty, haunting, somewhat unexpected. He hummed it as he cleaned a few attachments from the standing mixer and set them out to dry. He moved onto spoons and baking pans, scouring them clean. As he wiped down the counters and display cases, Jesse realized that, despite all the crap in his life, he was smiling. Bristol did that for him. The song rolling around in his head made him kind of happy, too.
With his grin widening, he plucked his phone from his pocket and started recording the music in his head. For the first time in weeks, maybe years, he felt almost happy.
Chapter Eight
Bristol awoke well after dark. She sat up with a start and found herself alone in the rumpled queen-size bed. A glance at the clock confirmed it was nearly two a.m. She’d slept ten hours. Holy cow, she never did that. Jamie had worn her out the night before, and she’d fallen into an exhausted slumber. But at least she was up early for work.
OMG, work! She’d neglected to make sure he’d locked the front door. In fact, she didn’t hear any signs of him prowling around her apartment. Was he even still here?
The thought that he might have left without saying good-bye upset her way more than it should.
Scrambling out of bed, Bristol pulled on a pair of shorts and righted the towel turban on her head, vaguely wondering how bad her hair would look once she removed it. She shoved the thought aside and stumbled down the hall.
In the living room, she found Jamie. She breathed a little sigh of relief when she spotted him on her sofa with a pair of buds shoved into his ears, his phone in hand, and a notepad and pen perched on his thigh. He looked deep in thought, and she wondered what had him concentrating so intently.
When he caught sight of her, he clicked off the phone, closed the cover of the notepad, and shoved everything onto the table in a heap. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
“Kind of groggy, but otherwise all right. You hanging out? Everything okay?”
“Yeah. It’s cool.”
She didn’t quite believe that since he gave off the vibe that she’d interrupted something. But he didn’t look guilty, more like distracted. “Did Hayden give you a hard time yesterday?”
